Not until he was fully engaged and Stripper wouldn't have the ability to say no. Taking a fortifying breath, Wilbur scooted down the bed, coming face-to-face with his objective.

Stripper's cock.

He inwardly rolled his eyes when an internal soundtrack of the Mission Impossible theme song began to play. Wilbur shut the sound out and moved even closer to the thick shaft lying against Stripper's thigh. He licked his lips, took a deep breath, and then sucked the flaccid cock into his mouth.

Stripper moaned.

Wilbur hadn't a clue what he was doing. He sucked at the flesh, using his tongue to feel the ridges and wrinkles until Stripper's cock began to fill. It was growing too fast. Wilbur had to use a hand to hold onto the thick pole as he licked and lapped, sucking at the head because he found it hard to take the entire cock into his mouth.

Stripper hissed.

Wilbur forwent his secret mission and moved until he was settled between Stripper's muscled thighs. That was much better. He leaned up, driving the cock as far as he could into his mouth.

"Fuck, Wilbur," Stripper moaned. "What are you doing?"

There was no way he was stopping to have a conversation. Not when he had Stripper's shaft wedged between his cheeks. Stripper's fingers buried into Wilbur's hair as his head tossed from side to side.

Wilbur felt the fire inside of him ignite.

"Not a good idea," Stripper said, though his words were choked and hoarse. He lunged his hips forward, driving his cock farther down Wilbur's throat. Wilbur took it but eased back slightly when the girth became too much to handle.

Maybe Wilbur shouldn't be doing this, going against the doctor's orders, but he couldn't spend another night lying next to Stripper without at least tasting the man. Stripper was too much of a temptation, and Wilbur's resistance went only so far. He'd held out for weeks and needed to feel Stripper in his mouth.

There was absolutely nothing strenuous about that.

Suspended between carnal lust and mind-numbing pleasure, Wilbur palmed Stripper's sac, giving the flesh a slight tug. He was no amateur when it came to masturbation, and Wilbur knew what he liked. He just had to find out what Stripper liked.

Stripper's back arched as Wilbur continued to pull at his lover's sac. "Harder," Stripper groaned.

Wilbur sucked the steel cock farther into his mouth as he tightened his hold on Stripper's balls, tugging them and rolling them in his hand. They were a handful, but nothing was going to stop Wilbur from giving his first blow job.

Even though Stripper was doing nothing more than just lying there, Wilbur still found himself poised on the edge of arousal, his own cock full and throbbing. Now that he'd tasted Stripper, Wilbur couldn't live without the taste again. He needed the man, ached for him. It was like a ravening beast inside of him, a hunger he couldn't deny any longer.

The all-consuming need to be fucked washed over him. Wilbur wanted to know what it was like to have the man buried deep inside of him. He was determined to find out.

Easing back from his lover' cock, Wilbur gazed up into unfocused hazel eyes. Stripper had been watching him. Warm heat surfaced just below the skin, and Wilbur hated the fact that he was blushing.

Stripper palmed his own cock as he threw an arm over his eyes. "God, what are you doing to me?"

Wilbur wasn't sure if it was just a figure of speech, or if the man really wanted an answer. He dipped his head and licked a long path over the man's wrinkled sac. Stripper hissed as his legs spread wider. Taking that as an invitation, Wilbur mouthed each side as he used his tongue to trace the fine lines.

"Wilbur." It was a demand, but for what, Wilbur had no clue.

"Please don't make me stop," Wilbur whispered, a low plea of unstated desire echoing through his voice as he gripped Stripper's cock harder. He began to suckle at the head, and Stripper ran his fingers through Wilbur's hair.

"I should," Stripper said, his voice tight. "But I just can't. God help me, I can't push you away."

Using his tongue, Wilbur traced a path over Stripper's inner thighs. He nipped and licked until he heard Stripper's breath coming out in short gasps. Wilbur had no idea what he was doing. He was going on instinct alone. But apparently the man liked what Wilbur was doing.

He dipped his head lower, chasing his tongue over the patch of skin just beneath Stripper's sac. Stripper palmed his balls, moving them aside. Wilbur dipped his head lower and licked at the tight ring of muscle centered between Stripper's tight cheeks.

"Wait," Stripper said.

The man swung his leg over Wilbur's head and then turned until he was on his hands and knees. Without prompting, Wilbur went back to bathing the man's tight muscle. Stripper rocked back and forth, his head buried in the pillows. Wilbur curled his fingers around the man's shaft, stroking the hard flesh as he licked at the man's backside. He'd never done anything like this before and found that he loved the sensation.

"Close," Stripper said. "Don't stop."

Wilbur had no intention of stopping. As a matter of fact, he started stroking the man faster. He stiffened his tongue and pushed it deep. Stripper cried out as his ass and cock began to pulse violently. Wilbur felt the hot seed spilling over his hand.

With a deep and predatory growl, Stripper spun and grabbed Wilbur, putting him on his back. The man's eyes seemed to glow as he pressed his body close. To Wilbur's amazement, Stripper was still rock-hard.

"If you feel any pain at all, by god you better tell me."

Wilbur nodded. "I will. I promise."

Stripper reached under his pillow and pulled free a tube of lube. Wilbur wasn't even going to ask. He didn't care why the man kept it there. All he cared about was what Stripper planned on doing to him.

It took only a second for Stripper to pull Wilbur's pajama bottoms off. They were floating to the floor before Stripper dipped his head. Heat and hunger held Wilbur now. As Stripper's kiss consumed him, the man's tongue stroking across his, his lips feeling Wilbur's, he felt emotions surging inside him that he wasn't certain what to do with.

As Stripper's hands moved over Wilbur's skin, the man's callused palms and fingers stroking Wilbur's flesh, he knew he might not survive the night if Stripper didn't give him what he needed.

He felt the muscles beneath his lips flexing, and pleasure surged through his body. Stripper's lips toured from Wilbur's to blaze a trail of fire down his neck to his chest. Wilbur was so ready for Stripper. So ready for the man's fingers to delve deep inside of him. He whimpered and wiggled until he felt Stripper's wet fingers circling his tight ring of muscles.

Wilbur gasped and opened his legs wider in invitation. It was an invitation that Stripper accepted. His fingers sank deep, and Wilbur had to bite his lower lip to stop the cry of unease from escaping. He'd never had anything inside of him before, and the feeling was...strange.

"Breathe," Stripper whispered. "Don't tense."

Wilbur clung to Stripper as the man's fingers drove in and out of his body. He began to relax and then moaned as the pressure turned to pleasure.

"That's it, beautiful," Stripper whispered close to his ear.

As the pleasure continued to race through him, Wilbur tilted his hips upward, meeting Stripper's thrusts. Stripper began to kiss him again in his tongue was like a lash of pure sensation, licking, stroking, causing Wilbur's body to arch as he fought to get closer to the incredible agony of pleasure.

When Stripper pulled his fingers free, Wilbur felt empty, lost. But that feeling didn't last for long. Stripper rolled him to his side. "It'll be easier for you this way."

All Wilbur could do was nod. He trusted Stripper and would follow the man's lead. Stripper lifted Wilbur's right leg and held it firmly as the man settled behind him.

Wilbur's breath caught in his throat when he felt the blunt head of Stripper's cock pressing against him. His fingers curled into the mattress as the head popped inside of him. God, it burned. Wilbur blew out a long breath as he gritted his teeth.

Stripper's body shifted, the hard pressure of his cock easing as he pulled back slightly and then slid forward. The callused tips of his fingers stroked over Wilbur's leg as Stripper kissed a long path over Wilbur's shoulder. The feeling of having Stripper inside of him was nothing that Wilbur could have imagined. He felt so full, as if he were stretched to the limit.

"Oh god, beautiful," Stripper whispered against his skin. "So incredible. I could lose myself in you."

The room was spinning-no, Stripper was moving. He slid his other arm under Wilbur's neck, and Wilbur felt cocooned. Stripper's scent surrounded Wilbur and sank into his senses. He was overwhelmed by the man and unwilling, as well as unable, to fight against the pleasure clouding his mind. But then again, Wilbur didn't want to fight it.

"I need more," Wilbur begged. "I want all of you inside of me."

Stripper thrust deep, and Wilbur cried out in pleasure. Wilbur rubbed himself against the broad thickness of the heavy cock throbbing inside of him. Sharp waves of hunger rushed along nerve endings that seemed newly awakened, created only to respond to Stripper's touch. Sensitized and now greedy for sensation, his body throbbed and ached for more and more.

The pleasure was so intense.

"You're mine." Stripper growled the words into Wilbur's ear. "I'm never letting you go."

"Giovani!" Wilbur cried out as Stripper's cock drove deep and the man consumed him, body and soul. He was being pulled under, branded. Wilbur gasped when he felt something sharp scraping over his skin. He turned his head to see long, sharp teeth. He tried to lunge forward, to get away, but Stripper's arms tightened like steel bands.

"Don't be afraid," Stripper whispered. "I'll never hurt you. You'll always be safe with me."

The room seemed to dim as Wilbur's fears took over. He shook his head and closed his eyes, praying. "What are you?"

"Your mate," Stripper replied. "The one man who will always protect you, always keep you safe."

"Even from you?" Wilbur asked.

Stripper's strokes slowed before he nuzzled Wilbur's neck. Wilbur fought to breathe, fought to make sense of all of this. Reno had the same sharp teeth, and the man had tried to kill him.

"I'm a bear shifter," Stripper confessed. "And fate has chosen you as my mate."

Wilbur's heart was pounding viciously as he tried to absorb what Stripper was telling him. Could the man be telling the truth? Could Wilbur trust him? As a human, yes. But Stripper wasn't human. He looked human. He acted human. But even when Wilbur had been being interrogated, he had sensed something more, something raw and dangerous.

"I promise," Stripper said. "I give you my word that you are in the safest house on this planet."

Wilbur nodded. "But I'm not a very good pet parent."

Stripper started to laugh and then hugged Wilbur tightly. "I'm pretty self-sufficient. Just rub my belly and I'm a happy bear."

"O-Okay. But don't rely on me to feed you, or you just might starve." Wilbur knew he wasn't talking rationally, but he had clung to the first thing that had come to mind. He needed to mull over Stripper's revelation, examining it closely. But most of all, what Wilbur needed was time.

"Feed me sweets and I am yours for life." Stripper kissed Wilbur's bare shoulder. The man began to move again, faster, harder. The conversation faded from Wilbur's mind as he was once again pulled under and lost in what Stripper was doing to him.

Stripper shook his head back and forth, growling low. Wilbur didn't understand what the man was doing. It was as if Stripper were fighting against something. "What is it?"

When Stripper's eyes snapped open, the hazel coloring in the man's irises was sharp and dark. "I can't." The man's voice was rough.

"Can't what?"

A deep, menacing growl ripped from Stripper before he flipped both of them, Wilbur landing on his hands and knees. "Bite you," Stripper answered before he pounded his cock into Wilbur's body. Wilbur's shoulders fell to the bed as his fingers gripped the headboard.

The sensations had the power to bring Wilbur to release. His back bowed as he cried out, spilling his seed beneath him. Stripper's fingers gripped Wilbur's hips as his rhythm sped up. The sound of skin clapping echoed in the room before Stripper shouted Wilbur's name, and his thrusts became uncoordinated as he buried himself inside Wilbur's body. Stripper's cock pulsed, filling Wilbur with the man's seed.

Wilbur collapsed to the bed, Stripper following him down. Stripper cursed softly before he curled his body around Wilbur's, holding him tightly.

He had no idea what his lover was fighting. But whatever it was, it had Stripper holding on to Wilbur as if Wilbur would vanish at any second.

Chapter Nine.

Sam, Shott, and Mason sat in a van disguised as a plumbing vehicle as they watched the house across the street. Sam hadn't approved of the civilian coming along, but they were shorthanded. Although Mason had been in only the reserves, at least he had some sort of training. The ranch hand was large and lumbering, and Sam hoped that was in their favor.

They had gotten word that Ms. O'Connor was being held in this residential home. Sam sure as shit hoped their intel was accurate. They couldn't leave the van running, which meant it was hotter than hell in the back. He was sweating his ass off as he sat there with the headset on.

So far they hadn't caught up with Reno. Although the man had threatened to take over Wilbur's life, Reno hadn't shown at Wilbur's home or job. It was if the man had vanished into thin air. Sam knew they were running out of precious time.

"What's for dinner?" Shott asked as he stared out of the binoculars.

Sam turned, his brows furrowed. "How the hell should I know? I'm kinda busy at the moment."

"A juicy steak would be nice," Mason commented. The man licked his lips as he tapped away on his laptop. "With some caramelized mushrooms and onions. Damn, I'm making myself hungry."

Sam gazed over the man's large frame. "You look like you eat all the time."

Shott snorted. "He could probably eat a whole cow in one sitting." Shott narrowed his eyes. "You haven't been eating our cattle, have you?"

Sam rubbed a hand over his chin. "Rowdy did mention something about some missing cattle."

Mason stopped tapping as he narrowed his eyes. "If I was eating your cattle, you would notice."

"I don't know," Shott said. "Maybe you're eating the Triple-B's livestock."

"They breed horses," Mason argued. "People don't eat horses."

"If they're hungry enough," Sam said. "You just admitted you were hungry."

Mason didn't fluster easy, and Sam liked that about the man. Mason jabbed a finger toward Shott. "He's the one that brought up food. Now I'm starving. Maybe I will eat a couple cattle and some horses. While I'm at it, why don't I just poach a few deer and skin a few bears?"

Sam chuckled. "Just giving you a hard time, Mason."

The man grunted as he went back to tapping at his laptop. Sam could see the smirk on Shott's face. They were all bored out of their ever-loving minds. There was a cleaning company at the house they were watching, and Sam and the others were waiting until the driveway was empty before they moved in.

"Got activity," Shott said. "Cleaning crew is leaving."

Mason closed laptop as Sam removed his headset. He grabbed his gun off the small table and shoved it in the back of his waistband. The three waited until the car had pulled from the driveway and was halfway down the block before they exited the van. They were dressed in blue jumpsuits with a fake company logo on their backs.

Mason carried the heavy equipment while Sam had a clipboard in his hand. They moved up the driveway, and then Shott disappeared around the back of the house. Sam knocked on the side door and then glanced around before he picked the lock.

Sam noticed a light and airy scent as he and Mason walked inside. Maybe he should hire that same cleaning company because the house smelled and looked great. He could still smell the light fragrance of dryer sheets.

As if he knew what Sam was thinking, Mason picked up a business card off the counter and handed it over. Sam glanced at it and smiled. It was the cleaning company's business card. He shoved it into his overall pocket before he unzipped the long zipper, reached inside, and pulled his weapon free.

He took the lead since Mason didn't have a gun. The man was there for muscle and muscle only. Mason's job was to grab Ms. O'Connor and get her out of there if shit went south.

Sam did a sweep of the kitchen and living room to find the two rooms clear. They were tastefully decorated, almost as if this house was nothing more than a showpiece. As he glanced around, he noticed there were no family photos on the wall or mantel. There was nothing in the two rooms that made this place personal or cozy. Everything was white, pristine, and sterile. Sam liked the McMaster place. Toys might be scattered around, shoes cluttering the front hallway, and loud kids everywhere, but that's what made it a home. Controlled chaos.