Author Charlie Richards

Giving love and imagination free reign


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Silver-Tipped Justice

Kontra's Menagerie: Book Eight

Kontra Belikov has been searching for his mate, Tim Laurent, for nearly sixty years, ever since he missed his chance by giving the just-of-age teen time to experience life. While heading back to his gang, he's surprised, but grateful, to discover Tim in a small town. When Kontra pursues Tim, they're chemistry is explosive, but right after, Tim pushes him away. Tim doesn't believe they're mates and feels guilty accepting affection since his lover of almost twenty years passed away just six months before. Frustrated, Kontra gives Tim his space, all the while vowing to get through to his mate. Space, once again, seems to be a mistake when the next morning, Kontra discovers Tim has been kidnapped. Can Kontra rescue Tim, find out why his mate's old flock is trying to keep them apart, and convince Tim they are meant to be together?

Excerpt - Silver-Tipped Justice

The excerpt below contain explicit adult language and sexual content.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.

If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

     Kontra led the way down the street to the corner, then crossed and strode into the bar. His eye-sight adjusted nearly instantly to the dimmer light, and he headed toward a back corner booth. Payson made a stop at the bar, most likely to order a couple beers.

Settling on the seat, Kontra stretched out his legs and relaxed. The short walk and real seat felt nice after riding his hog for ten hours, with only the occasional stops for fuel to break up the monotony. He felt the corner of his lip curve up slightly as he watched Payson head his way with a couple beers.

Payson set one in front of him then slid into the booth, moving halfway around the U-shaped seat so his own back was toward the wall and he could look out. Kontra picked up his glass and clinked it against Payson’s.

He took a healthy swig then hummed his pleasure as the cold, dark brew slid down his throat. “Very nice,” he murmured appreciatively.

His buddy winked and took a large gulp of his own beverage. They sat in companionable silence as they perused a tall, narrow card listing offered eats on one side and drinks on the other. It was typical bar fare, fried onion rings, hot wings, potato skins, and greasy burgers. Kontra licked his lips. Perfect!

“Hey, gents,” a waiter greeted. “What can I get for you?”

Kontra glanced at the man, taking in his broad shoulders hidden under a black t-shirt, his engaging smile, and the friendly light in his brown eyes. He would have been surprised the man didn’t appear wary, but the guy probably stood around six three and looked like he could handle himself. Their waiter, and most likely the owner of the joint, if Kontra didn’t miss his guess, probably didn’t run into much he couldn’t handle on his own.

Returning the guy’s friendly smile with a slight curve of his lips, Kontra said, “I’d like a double cheeseburger with bacon, heavy on the pickles, light on the mustard.” He tapped his menu and added, “How about some potato skins, too.”

The human grinned. “You won’t be disappointed.” He turned and lifted a brow at Payson in silent question.

“I’ll take the same on the burger, but add mushrooms and jalepenos to mine,” Payson requested.

Their waiter nodded. “You got it.” He glanced between their half-finished beers. “Gonna need refills with the meal?”

“Maybe even before that,” Kontra replied, finally giving the human a true smile. He liked an attentive waiter.

The man laughed and nodded. “I’m Shep. Just holler at me when you want it and you’ll have it in a jiff.”

“Thanks, Shep. We’ll do that,” Kontra replied, lifting his mug and tipping his head in thanks before taking another swallow.

Their skins came quick, along with another round of beers. Dipping the greasy, tasty morsel in sour cream, Kontra brought it to his mouth and took in half. Seconds later, he swallowed the other half.

“Oh, that’s good, boss,” Payson muttered around a pleased groan.

Kontra chuckled. “Maybe you should take a plate or two of those back to the room this evening,” he teased.

Payson snickered. “Think they’d let me?”

He tilted his head toward the front where a white plastic bag sat, the distinctive shape of togo boxes filling it out. “They seem to offer take out.”

“Nice,” Payson crooned, following Kontra’s gaze.

Shep arrived at their table and placed plates holding massive burgers and heaps of criss-cut fries. “Thanks,” Kontra said while Payson just grinned and dug in.

Kontra was half-way through his meal when a sweet and tangy smell tickled his senses. Looking up, he surveyed the room, trying to determine the source of the scent. His eyes narrowed as he watched a lithe man stride toward the bar, the sway of his slender hips catching Kontra’s eye.

The way Shep grinned at the stranger had Kontra fighting back a growl. “Hey, Tim,” Shep greeted the man. “How’s your day going?”

Tim? Kontra inhaled again, and this time the way his dick reacted, pressing painfully against his fly, made sense. “Holy shit.” After all this time, Kontra had found him.

“Oh, he’s cute, boss,” Payson said, following his attention. “You gonna try to go for him?”

Kontra turned and looked at Payson. From the way his pack-mate cocked his head and frowned, he knew his stunned shock must be clearly etched on his features.

“You okay, boss?” Payson asked.

    He had to swallow hard before he could answer. Finally, he managed to croak out, “That’s my mate.”

Adult Excerpt - Silver-Tipped Justice

    “Tim, please don’t run.”

Swallowing back his moan at the deep sexy voice, Tim slowly turned. He forced his head up, so he could meet the man’s dark brown-eyed gaze. He licked his lips, his nerves skittering along his endings. “What do you want?” He barely managed to get the whispered words past his lips when the man took a step forward.

Tim instinctively backed up to avoid being crowded by the guy’s big body. The close proximity also gave him a lungful of the man’s earthy, musky scent. “Oh, shit. You’re a shifter,” he blurted out, clutching his to go bag to his chest like a shield.

The big guy nodded once, glanced over his shoulder and waved at someone out of Tim’s line of vision, then stepped fully into his small home and shut the door.

It dawned on Tim that, as a shifter—one that certainly had a better sense of smell than Tim—this guy probably scented Tim’s arousal. His shocked mind struggled with how to play off the uncomfortable boner in his slacks, should the guy ask.

What came out was, “There isn’t a flock here. If you’re scouting for new territory, this land is free. I’ll be leaving in a week, so it’s all yours.”

“What? No,” the man practically growled.

Tim’s brows shot up and his jaw dropped open. Surely this guy didn’t think he could force Tim to stick around. Shifter or not, awesome smelling and handsome or not, Tim wasn’t staying in this town. He’d been here long enough for people to start noticing his lack of aging and had been pushing it because Gabe wasn’t ready to leave yet. Then his partner had gotten sick, and it had been a long, grueling two years battling cancer.

Every instinct in Tim screamed for him to get the hell out of dodge.

He snapped his mouth closed and scowled at the man. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? You have no say over me.”

To his ever-loving shock, a feral smile curved the man’s handsome goateed face. The man stalked forward. Tim’s pride warred with his good sense, the latter quickly winning, and he lifted his hands in placation as he retreated.

“My name is Kontra Belikov,” the shifter stated, his gravelly voice low, sensual, and gruff.

Tim’s cock hardened further at the sound. His back whapped against a wall, stopping his progress.

Kontra grabbed Tim’s palms in a surprisingly gentle grip and lifted them over his head, pinning them on either side. “And you, Timothy Laurent, are my mate.”

Tim gasped as Kontra pressed his nose against the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply. A low rumble vibrated through Kontra’s chest, making Tim’s nipples bead into sharp, tingly points where they pressed against the man.

Lifting his head to capture Tim’s gaze, Kontra’s dark brown eyes bore into his own. “Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you, Tim?”

Somehow, Tim managed to shake his head once. His mouth formed the word no, though no sound came out.

Firm lips wreathed in surprisingly soft hair brushed across Tim’s jaw once, twice, then moved to his ear. Kontra’s warm breath had pin-pricks of pleasure dancing across his nerve endings, making it incredibly difficult for Tim to focus on the shifter’s next words.

“It will be sixty years to the day in three weeks, Tim,” Kontra whispered. He sucked Tim’s earlobe into his mouth and tugged gently.

Tim whimpered, the pulls seeming to transfer straight to his painfully hard cock. Suddenly, Kontra’s big hands palmed his ass-cheeks and lifted. Tim found his hands free and he quickly moved them to the big man’s shoulders and clutched at the shifter’s black leather jacket.

Kontra slid him up the wall and pressed closer, aligning their groins. Tim reacted instantly by wrapping his legs around Kontra’s hips. A large ridge of flesh pressed against his trapped erection through several layers of fabric. Sparks of fire danced along his nerve endings, and Tim shouted hoarsely and rocked his hips to get more of the delicious sensations.

The rush of blood through his veins reminded Tim that he still lived, that he could still feel desire and pleasure. Kontra groaned, his grip tightening on Tim’s ass. The sexy shifter used his hold to rock their groans together.

Through a haze of bliss—caused by Kontra’s sharp teeth nipping and scraping up and down the tendons of his neck, the feel of his hard dick rocking against his own, and the sexy growls and grunts vibrating through the shifter’s body into his own—Tim felt his testicles draw up tight to his body. His dick swelled even more, and Tim just knew he was about to come.

    “Oh!” he murmured, his eyes widening in realization.