Vintage Pride Read Online Free Page B

over to the bed to pluck the book from Benoît’s hands.
    “Hey, I was reading that!” Benoît protested.
    He glanced briefly at the cover with its illustration of a country manor house shrouded in mist. “Don’t you already know how this one ends? As always, the wrongdoer will be the very last person you’d suspect.” Giving the bed an impatient pat, he snapped, “Come on, Benoît. I need to run. I’ve been tied up dealing with suppliers all day, and all I could think about was the moment when you and I would finally be able to give our desires free rein.”
    “You should let Marcus deal with that,” Benoît retorted. But he’d risen to a kneeling position and was taking his T-shirt off, giving Jean-Luc a mouthwatering view of his taut, toned belly.
    “Marcus left for England this morning. He’s combining a delivery run with a visit to his family. But you’d know that if you paid any attention at all, instead of constantly having your nose stuck in a book.”
    “I need to relax, Jean-Luc.”
    “You never do seem to do anything but…” Jean-Luc growled affectionately. He eased down his sweatpants, the only garment he had on. Like all shifters, he found clothing constricting and would have been happier walking around naked. But in a big house where he might bump into some member of staff in the corridors, it was safer to maintain some level of decorum. No one he employed had any clue as to his true nature and he didn’t want to give them the impression he was some kind of freak who liked to walk around with his dick hanging out.
    At this time of night, however, there was no danger of being seen. The people who worked in the vineyard had long since gone home and the live-in staff would all be tucked up in bed. Still, he was careful to creep down the stairs as quietly as he could. Benoît followed behind, the thrill of what they were about to do causing his eyes to shine.
    They let themselves out of the back entrance, making their way through the rows of vines and out into the quiet countryside beyond the estate. Jean-Luc sniffed the air, catching the musty scent of a fox that had recently passed this way. His keen hearing picked up the monotonous chirping of crickets and the sound of vehicle engines on the road that led to Épernay. Ahead of him, Benoît had broken into a jog, his bare, nut-brown arse cheeks flexing enticingly.
    While Jean-Luc ambled behind, Benoît dropped onto all fours and began the swift transformation from man to beast. His slender limbs became sturdy paws, his face reassembled itself into that of a lion, complete with whiskers and fangs, and his body acquired a shaggy, sandy-colored pelt. He looked quite magnificent as he shook out his mane.
    Jean-Luc closed his eyes and surrendered to the same process. He let the animal part of him take control, all but forgetting about his human needs and emotions. The petty irritations of his daily life no longer mattered. He was free to run.
    Benoît had already streaked away into the trees. Jean-Luc scampered after him, his paws making no sound where they landed on the sun-baked earth. The scents of small animals assailed his nostrils but he ignored them. The only spoor to lure him was that belonging to his mate, and he was compelled to follow it wherever it led.
    They traveled for miles, tracking a circuit that ran parallel to the main road but never came too close. Here, the farmhouses were few and far apart, open fields stretching out to the horizon. Back in the direction they’d come, the land was hilly. Perfect for growing grapes but not so good if all they wanted to do was simply run.
    When they reached a lightning-blasted tree they used as a distance marker, they doubled back on themselves. By the time they were within a mile or so of the château, its turreted roof just visible against the skyline, Jean-Luc had satisfied one of his urges but not the other. He still needed to be buried deep inside Benoît’s glorious arse.
    He came to a