The Mane Event

by Shelly Laurenston

  “They were as worried as I was.”

  “You could have gotten them killed. In my house! The man’s a goddamn SEAL. He eats entire tactical units for fuckin’ breakfast!”

  Bukowski shook his big, shaggy head. He often reminded her of one of her dogs. “I thought you were smarter than this, Dez.”

  “Smarter than what? What is your problem with him?”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.” She sighed. Here came the big brother syndrome right on schedule. “No. Really. A guy like Llewellyn, all he’s going to do is use you.”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  “And you haven’t seen him in more than twenty fuckin’ years, but you went ahead and hopped right into bed with him.”

  “I don’t hop.”

  “Dez, I don’t wanna be cruel. But come on. A guy like that with somebody like you?”

  She wasn’t as hurt as she probably should have been. She knew exactly where she stood with Bukowski and, in his own brutish way, he wanted to protect her. Still, that seemed a little harsher than necessary. And she was about to tell him where he could stick that particular comment when the swinging door to her kitchen exploded open, the wood banging off the wall and coming off its hinges.

  Mace stormed into the living room, amazingly pissed off in just his jeans. It didn’t help his fly was only halfway zipped up, reminding her of what Bukowski forced her to miss out on. She could still taste Mace in her mouth.

  Dez stepped aside as Mace strode angrily across the room. Usually the man didn’t let anything get to him. Not with that military-trained feline personality. Yet here he was, protectively pushing Dez behind him as he faced off against Bukowski.

  Great. Another male protecting her. How did she keep getting into these situations?

  “If you’ve got something to say, why don’t you say it to me?”

  Dez glanced behind her. No sign of the other three. They must have left once they realized she was fine. They knew better than to stick around for her wrath. They’d seen the damage she could do when that MacDermot temper made its rare entrance.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Bukowski barked angrily.

  “Well, ya are now!”

  Mace towered a good six inches over Bukowski, but both men refused to back off. Idiots. God save her from protective men.

  She sighed. “Would you two just—”

  “Shut up, Dez!” They both said it at the same time, never once taking their eyes off each other. It took all her strength not to grab the gun she kept hidden under her couch cushions and shoot both of them in the head.

  Instead, Dez turned on her heel and headed back upstairs, her two dogs trailing faithfully behind. At least there were some males in her life that obeyed her. “When you two are done pissin’ around me, feel free to let yourselves the fuck outta my house!”

  Mace watched that cute ass walk away from him and he didn’t like it one bit. Well, he liked the view. A lot. But he didn’t mean to push her away. Not when all his future plans involved her.

  “I swear to God, you hurt her—”

  “Shut up. And get the fuck out.”

  “She told both of us to leave.”

  Mace ignored him, heading for the stairs. Bukowski stopped him with a hand on his arm. Mace looked at it, then at the man it belonged to. At least, the man it belonged to for the moment.

  “Get your hand off me or lose that arm.”

  He didn’t know what the little man saw, but his startled expression would be funnier if Mace wasn’t already so pissed.

  “Jesus Christ.” What is this idiot’s name again? Bukowski? “You do care about her. I can see it on your face.”

  Sometimes full-humans are as dumb as dogs.

  “That’s brilliant deductive reasoning there, Sherlock. I’m surprised you don’t run the whole fuckin’ precinct. Now leave.” With that, Mace followed Dez up the stairs.

  Chapter Seven

  Dez snuggled under the covers, her face buried in her pillow. She should have remembered her Grandmother Fiona’s words to her when she turned ten. “Honey, all men are idiots.” As always, the older generation called it.

  She didn’t know Mace was in the room until he laid his long body out on top of hers. A heavy, muscle-laden man, his weight still felt good against her.

  “Are you and Bukowski meeting at dawn for a duel with pistols? Or you going the Brooklyn way and using a couple of two-by-fours?”

  He nuzzled the back of her head, licked her neck. His tongue dry and rough. Well that’s damn distracting.

  “Are you even listening to me?” she demanded as she turned over, pushing his big body off her. With a sigh, he rolled to his side and watched her. She ignored his obvious annoyance, wanting to get a few things straight before he started distracting her with that big dick of his.

  “I can handle Bukowski. He’s my partner. We’ve been in some ugly shit together, and I don’t need you or anybody else stepping in and saving the day for me.”

  “But isn’t that what Bukowski and those three guys did? Come in to save you from the big, bad lion.”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not fucking them! I don’t care what they do. I care what you do.”

  “I’m unclear about your logic.”

  Dez grabbed a pillow, covered her face, and yelled into it. When she pulled it away, Mace still watched her impassively. Just staring and blinking.

  “And you’re fixing my kitchen door!”

  Mace rolled those gold eyes and sighed. “Whatever.” With a good yank, he snatched the comforter completely off her.

  He couldn’t believe she was giving him shit about that door. She let that asshole Bukowski walk out without putting a bullet in his tiny pea brain with that gun she had hidden in her couch. But she orders him to fix the door. Did she believe for even a second he would ever let that idiot talk to her like that?

  He gazed down at her ripe body. The woman was absolutely perfect. She tried to shimmy away from him, but he trapped her with his leg. Didn’t she know he was busy? He didn’t need her distracting him with her nonsense.

  “What do you want me to do to you?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. What do you want me to do to you?” She didn’t answer, and he finally looked up to find her glaring at him. “What?”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  Where the fuck did that come from? “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She knocked his hand off her chest and pulled herself away from him. “You don’t trust me to take care of myself. I can see it on your face. That’s why you’re so busy trying to distract me with those big lion hands of yours.”

  “That’s a load of shit, Desiree, and you know it.”

  “Fine. Prove it.”

  He really didn’t like the sound of that. “How?”

  She slid off the bed and walked over to her dresser. He really hoped she didn’t turn around with her gun in her hand. Although he wouldn’t put anything past her.

  He heard metal clink and she turned around, her handcuffs dangling from her index finger.

  “Not on your life, MacDermot!”

  “See? You don’t trust me.”

  Tricky, manipulative, little dog lover! Mace closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Look what she’d reduced him to. These shenanigans. Suddenly Pride life began looking better and better.

  She pouted. “You don’t have to trust me, Mace. It’s okay. It’s okay I trust you but you don’t trust me. That’s fine.”

  With a short roar, he stretched out on the bed, his arms over his head. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

  He ground his teeth together to keep from coming in his jeans. He’d been thinking about something like this as soon as he realized she’d become a cop. Of course, she’d been the handcuffed, not the handcuffer.

  Still naked, Dez stepped up on the bed and settled her curvaceous body ov
er his chest, straddling him with her long legs.

  She held the cuffs up in front of his face. “You sure, Mace?”

  “Don’t bullshit around with me, woman. Just do it.”

  “Okay.” She leaned over him, her breasts in his face as she worked to secure his wrists to the bed frame. Being a cop, she hooked him up in about ten seconds. Even before he could get his mouth around her nipple.

  She pulled away and smiled at her handiwork. “You’ve got huge wrists.”

  He smirked. “Thanks.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment or anything. Merely a statement of fact.”

  He closed his eyes. The woman wanted to make him insane.

  “Wanna see what I can do?”

  Part of him wanted to say “No” and pout like a ten-year-old. But he was trying to be cooperative. It went against his very nature but, clearly, he would walk through fire for this woman.

  Mace opened his eyes. On an annoyed sigh, “Yeah. Okay.”

  Dez lifted her right breast in her hand, leaned forward, and wrapped her tongue around her own nipple. Her breasts were large enough so it wasn’t a challenge for her at all. Yet it was knowing she somehow discovered that little trick on her own—Mace swallowed. Dear God in heaven.

  She licked her nipple, swirling the tip of her tongue around it. Mace could almost feel it on his own tongue. His cock strained against the hard material of his new jeans and in a few more seconds he’d end up destroying the bed frame to get to her.

  Dez pulled back. “Cool, huh?”

  All Mace could manage was a nod.

  “Wanna see me do the other one?”

  He nodded again. She held the other breast and repeated her actions, turning herself on in the process. He could smell it. And her squirming on his chest—so not helping.

  She entertained him and her breasts for a little longer. When she finally pulled away, she’d begun panting. They stared at each other.

  “Come here, Dez.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to.” Funny, she smelled like she wanted to.

  “What do you want?”

  Dez bit her lip. Then, taking a deep breath, she ran her hand down between her breasts, past her abs, and between her legs.

  “Dez…what are you doing to me?”

  “At the moment? Absolutely nothing.”

  Mace watched Dez’s hand as she slid her middle finger inside her pussy, slowly drag it out, and across her clit. Why did she insist on torturing him? Okay. So he had tortured her a little the night before. And this morning. And in the kitchen. But nothing like this. This was killing him.

  Her finger circled her clit as her hips slowly thrust against him. He watched her, completely entranced. How could he not be? She looked so gorgeous, riding him while she sought her own pleasure. One of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen and all he wanted to do at the moment was bury himself so far inside Dez he knocked her tonsils out.

  It didn’t take her long. Her head thrown back, moaning, saying his name. God, she moaned his name. With that voice. Before he knew it, she was coming. Her legs gripping his hips, her body shaking. When the spasms passed, she slowly looked down at him.

  “Fuck me, Dez,” he growled. “Or I’m buying you a new bed frame after Christmas.”

  “We left the condoms downstairs.”

  “Then get ’em. Now.”

  Dez slipped off his body and walked out of the room. Great. Now he was panting. Mace closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of Dez walking around the house. Anything to keep him from coming as soon as she touched his cock.

  He heard her go down the stairs and into the kitchen. Heard her pick the box of condoms up off the counter. Heard her feet walking back the way she came. His cell phone rang and she stopped. He heard the swipe of metal against the counter as she scooped it up and headed back to the bedroom. He blinked in surprise, though, when he heard her answer his phone. Dez didn’t seem like the type to cross those kind of boundaries, until he remembered he had caller ID on the front of it. Which meant only one thing…

  “Well hi, Missy. How you doin’?”

  By the time she walked into the bedroom, Mace was laughing so hard he could barely see straight.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Desiree. Although you can call me Detective.”

  She dropped the box of condoms on the nightstand, grabbing one before returning to Mace on the bed. She crawled back on top of him.

  “Oh yeah. He’s here, hon, but he’s handcuffed to my bed right now and kind of sticky, which is my fault.” She sighed. “Well, I can ask him to see if he wants to talk to you. But I was about to make him see God…oh. Well, you don’t have to get nasty. Hold on.”

  She leaned over him, holding the phone to his ear until he could pin it against his shoulder.

  He cleared his throat to stop from laughing. “Hello?”

  “You stupid son of a bitch! Tell me that woman doesn’t have you handcuffed to her bed!”

  Mace should have been mad his sister yelled at him like a child, but with Dez kissing his neck and rubbing his nipples, he found it really hard to care.

  “Is there a reason you called, because she’s getting awfully insistent. And I must obey all her commands.” Dez snorted as she moved down his chest. His sister became deathly quiet.

  “What the hell does that mean, Mason?”

  “That I’m the bottom to her top. The sub to her dom. The slave to her master.” Dez began laughing so hard she rolled off Mace and right out of bed.

  “Please tell me you’re kidding?”

  “I can’t. I can’t tell you anything. Not unless she tells me I can.”

  He stifled his own laughter as Dez’s became more intense.

  He could hear Missy’s attempts to calm herself down. “Mason Rothschild Llewellyn…I will talk to you another time.”

  “Well, only if she’ll let me talk to you another time—” He heard the click from the other end.

  Okay. Even he had to admit that was one of the best moments ever. He released the phone, grabbed it with his teeth, and tossed it across the room.

  “Get your ass up here, Desiree. Now.”

  She crawled back up onto the bed, but she laughed so hard she’d begun to cry. She barely managed to get back on his chest. Then she buried her head in his neck, her entire body shaking with laughter. Christ, he could be like this until next Tuesday. He wasn’t even sure she’d be able to find the key to let him loose. He shrugged. Looked like he’d be bed shopping come December twenty-sixth.

  Chapter Eight

  Mace woke up to a cold, wet snout in his ear. He growled and snapped. Dez’s two dogs charged out of the room, leaving a lovely trail of piss in their wake. Great. Something else he had to clean up himself. Mace sat up and glanced at the dresser. Her badge and gun were gone.

  Dammit, where was that woman? She kept disappearing on him. He knew she wasn’t in the house. He always knew when she was around. He could sense her, feel her. So the question became where the hell did she go this time?

  Sliding out of the battered bed—the bed frame another replacement he had to make—he quickly found something to clean the floor and then jumped in the shower. He just finished washing his hair, which now reached to his shoulders, when it suddenly occurred to him where Dez may have gone.

  The one place where she could get herself killed.

  Dez watched as Mace stormed out of her house, down the front steps, and headed…somewhere. Maybe he decided to bail. Thinking he could finally make a run for it. Ah, who the hell am I kidding? She knew Mace wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. If she wanted him gone, she’d have to do it herself. Part of her wanted to make that happen too. Before she got in too deep. Another part—the one attached to her heart—kept telling her to back the hell off. Her heart wanted Mace to hang around for as long as she could keep him. But how long could she keep him once she started working again? When she got late-night calls about a murder th
ey wanted her on? Or when she had to leave in the middle of dinner? Or she missed his birthday? How long would he put up with that?

  She remembered her ex-husband’s words as clearly as if he were saying them right in her ear at that very moment. “You just aren’t pretty enough to put up with this kind of shit, Desiree.”

  Mace spotted her SUV. He stopped and stared at it. She found it fascinating to watch him move. He’d been right, of course. She always knew he was a predator. That he wasn’t quite human. She’d known it deep in her bones.

  He sniffed the air, then spun around, his eyes locking on her. With a growl, he stormed over to her as she calmly sipped her coffee.

  “You’re making me crazy!”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Don’t ya think I know that?” Mace sat down on the stoop beside her, his thigh barely touching hers. She suddenly wanted to crawl into his lap and let him hold her, but she had never been good with public displays of affection. Mostly because she didn’t know how to do it.

  “I thought you’d gone back.”

  “Gone back where?”

  “To that club from last night.”

  “The one with the hyenas?” Had the man lost his mind? “Wow, I didn’t know I had ‘stupid idiot’ tattooed on my forehead.”

  He smiled and she immediately became wet at the sight of it. “Not stupid idiot. Big, bad cop.”

  “No way, cat. They tried to kill me once. Why would I push my luck? Besides, vice squad’s raiding them as we speak.”

  Mace closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh. “You didn’t.”

  “Oh, I fuckin’ did.” She took another sip of her coffee. “They can probably only close them for a night or two, but it will still give me such joy.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “There’s no hard evidence of that.”

  Mace suddenly lifted her arm up and stretched out, his head in her lap. He placed her hand on his head. “Stroke away, baby.”

  She put down her coffee and started laughing. It seemed she didn’t have to know how to show affection. Mace would command her. Actually, that kind of worked for her. If she wasn’t in the mood, she could always roll his ass down the stairs.