by Knox, Abby
Ash, though surprised to hear her claim inexperience — she seemed abundantly sure of what she wanted since the get-go — reassured her, “My mama didn’t raise a slouch. Bobby will make sure Pen gets home. Let’s go, Ms. DuChamp.”
Chapter Two
Ash
How was it possible that Ash was speeding along the highway in his 1969 GTO with the daughter of his father’s most hated enemy in New Orleans?
He didn’t know how these things happened, and he didn’t care to question fate.
Rosemary, the little sexpot, couldn’t even wait until they had made it to her place. She was already unzipping his pants and springing his little beast free from his boxer briefs as he drove.
“You starting already?”
Rosemary replied not with words so much as her mouth. She leaned down and teased the tip with those plump little lips, that sexy pink tongue. Ash wanted to pull the car over and claim her body right then and there, but he had to keep them both safe as he drove. This wasn’t entirely fair. But it was nice.
Ash sped up, racing closer to her place, following the directions she had previously typed into his car’s GPS. Why this chick would be living on her own in an old sugar warehouse when her daddy had more money than God and the biggest mansion in the Garden District he did not know, but he was grateful for that fact at the moment. He was looking forward to a night of dark and dirty business with Rosemary, free from the scrutiny of the rarified world he imagined she lived in.
Ash just needed to get them to their destination before all the blood left his brain and he crashed the car.
As his speeding car reached 75, 80, 85 mph, Rosemary’s mouth worked his shaft with increasing urgency. Her fingers frantically tugged at his shirt. Ash obliged her by pulling his shirttails out of his waistband so her hands could reach under and caress his pleasure trail. Damn. Damn, damn, damn, she was working him up.
Ash wanted to tell her to stop, but he also wanted to see how far this would go.
“Slow down, baby girl. Tell me where to park.”
He had exited the off-ramp and was now headed down her street.
Rosemary kept going while managing to produce a key card from her purse and handing it to him. A multi-tasker of epic proportions. Ash thought he might love this woman already. He swiped the card at the gate. Thank god for automation or some parking attendant would be getting quite a show right now.
“Babe, I don’t want the first time we do this to be in a parking garage. Call me a hopeless romantic.”
She slowed her pace. Then she sat up and looked at him. “There’s going to be a second time?”
He grinned. “And a third, and a fourth, and a thousandth. I don’t do one-night stands, sweet thing. I hope that doesn’t scare you. Because even if it does, I ain’t letting you get away.”
Rosemary’s satin voice came out in a low whisper. “I don’t know if you realize this, but if you’re into me for the long term, Daddy’s gonna find out. And he ain’t gonna like it one bit.”
“Who’s your daddy?”
She looked at him blankly. “Lionel DuChamp, silly. I thought we’d been over this.”
Ash grinned and gave her his best bedroom eyes. “Nah. Tell me who’s your daddy now?”
It took Rosemary a second, but then she caught on, and a devious smile her face. She arched an eyebrow at him and whispered, “You are?”
“What? Was that a question? I didn’t hear you,” he teased. “Could you speak up?”
“I said you are. You’re my daddy.”
“You know that’s right. Now let’s go upstairs and finish this, ’cause I’m gonna take care of you so good you won’t know which way is up when I’m done with you.”
Upstairs, her “apartment” looked to Ash more like an entire third floor of a hastily renovated warehouse. He didn’t see much of it in the dark except the vast amount of space bathed in the lights from the street. She pulled him into her corner bedroom and plugged in a string of pink lights that were haphazardly pinned to the crown molding.
The effect was a rosy glow that allowed him to watch what she was doing to him. It had been one thing to feel this aggressive little mate of his have her way with him while he white-knuckled the steering wheel and willed himself to keep his damn eyes on the road. Crazy exciting. But sitting on the edge of her California king-size bed, watching her smile at him as she kicked off her high heels and knelt in front of him was just beyond everything.
Rosemary expertly sank his shaft deeply into her mouth and all the way to the back of her throat, not wasting a moment of anyone’s time.
“I like a woman who gets right to the point,” he growled, threading his fingers into her wild layers of hair. Now that she was between his legs and not sitting beside him, she could pull him in much deeper, explore more of his body with both of her hands. She worked her way up to a frantic rhythm, cupping and squeezing his balls at the same time, making him curse and gasp with the pleasurable pain of it. When he was almost at blast-off, she moved her hands around gripped his ass. The rumble that escaped Ash’s lips quickly rose into a roar of epic pleasure. He exploded into her mouth and she took it all in with gleeful enthusiasm.
It was then Ash realized he’d forgotten to warn her of one thing.
“Oh fuck. Baby, I’m so sorry. It’s too much, I forgot to tell you,” he huffed.
But if Rosemary had noticed an unnaturally large amount of cum than a normal human male, she didn’t act put off. She took it all in with the same ease that she tossed back her liquor.
When his orgasm subsided, Ash caught Rosemary up in his arms and pulled her into his lap. She circled her arms around his ribcage, squeezed, and laid her head on his chest. All he could think about was his need to kiss those generous lips of hers, tear off that flimsy dress, and make her feel as alive as he felt right now. But with her head down like that, she seemed to want to snuggle. He was okay with that, too. They would have plenty of time for more dirty deeds later. A lifetime together, if he had his way.
“Baby, I wanna kiss that mouth,” he breathed.
“Not yet,” she answered. “Not on the first date.”
Ash chuckled. “Are you serious? After what just happened?”
She sighed and ran her hands over his chest. “I’ll explain later. Can you just let me ravage you tonight?”
There was no question about whether she would get her way. She was his mate; it was settled. Some part of him knew as soon as she walked into the door of Bobby’s bar, as soon as her scent filled his lungs. No going back after this.
Rosemary might have thought she’d weaseled an invite to meet the offspring of her father’s enemy. But none of that mattered. She was his. He was hers.
Whether she knew it or not, she had been claimed by the wolf.
* * *
The sun rose over the French Quarter. Ash was alone on his rooftop overlooking Bourbon Street. Utterly spent after a night of passion with his new female, he should be sleeping it off—the booze, the exhaustion, the comedown after four orgasms in one night—but he needed to think.
And here on the rooftop is where he came to think.
Specifically, about why Rosemary wouldn’t let him undress her and please her in return. As Ash looked at the sunrise in all of its pinks and oranges, he knew he wanted to share this with her. Every morning for the rest of his life, if possible. He refused to screw this up. If she needed to take things slow when it came to her body, so be it. As long as she understood she was his.
But there was another problem. He could deal with her quirks, but could she deal with his whole laundry list of issues?
Perhaps he should just tell his brain to shut up and enjoy the ride for now. Wait for things to unfold naturally and get her parents used to him slowly. Draw it out. Let their love be the small but constant drip of water that eventually creates a beautiful canyon and nobody could imagine life without them together.
That’s it. That’s the only way. Get her, and her family, used to
the whole idea, little by little.
And if that didn’t work? They could elope, move away, and change their names to stay out of the crosshairs of the legendary Lionel DuChamp. That was also a plan.
Chapter Three
Rosemary
“Daddy, Mama, I hope you don’t mind, I’m bringing home my boyfriend for dinner next week.”
Betsy and Lionel DuChamp both dropped their silver forks with a clatter onto the maple Louis XIV dining table.
“Well, sweetie, who is the lucky fellow?” Betsy asked, barely able to hide the wild curiosity behind her genteel exterior.
Rosemary could barely contain herself either, she was so excited to see her daddy’s reaction. “Ashton Boudreaux! I think you know his daddy, Jimmy?”
Then to add a little extra flair to her announcement, she sang the commercial jingle: “JB stands for Just the Best!”
The color wheel on her daddy’s face rotated from gray to beet red to rutabaga purple.
Her mother folded her linen napkin and placed it on the table. “Jimmy Chicken’s loin fruit. Well, my goodness.” Then she crossed her fork and knife at the top of her plate to indicate that she was finished eating, though she had eaten nothing. She had no more appetite for chicken.
“If you’re not gonna eat that, I’ll take it. I am famished. Ol' Ash and I had quite the night out on the town last night and I was so exhausted I slept all day and haven’t eaten a single thing since brunch at Du Monde yesterday.”
Rosemary got up and cleared away her mother’s plate and carried it back to her place at the table. She stared at her parents and waited for the ax to fall. “Well, gosh, you two. Say something. Anything!” Rosemary cajoled, with a mouthful of chicken. So much for finishing-school table etiquette.
Lionel finally did speak. He turned to his wife and said, “Betsy, I’ll be in my office.” And with that, he stood and gathered up his plate, fork, and knife and walked away.
Rosemary watched him go and then turned to Betsy, pointing a forkful of chicken thigh in the direction of her father’s back. “You know, that man is remarkable. Nothing can piss him off so bad he won’t eat.”
Betsy finally looked at her daughter straight in the eye but did not rejoin the comments about her husband. “My only child doesn’t appreciate anything we’ve done for her. She leaves my house to live in a moldy warehouse and teach kindergarten. God surely has a sense of humor.”
Rosemary stuffed her mouth with some fried okra. “Doesn’t she, though?” she said.
“Oh, Rosemary, it is too late to try to get a rise out of me with your nonsense. You fried that nerve straight away by announcing that you’re dating a child of that vulgar sneak Jimmy Boudreaux.” Betsy spat the nickname out as if it was grit in her mouth.
Rosemary was going to reply with another witticism, but she stopped herself when she spotted the tear in her mother’s eye. And there it went, down her cheek.
It wasn’t a serious bout of waterworks. Just a single tear. Somehow, that single tear was much more affecting than a full-blown sob fest.
“Mama.” Rosemary stood and rushed over to her mother’s side. “Mama, don’t cry. I was just so excited. I know you don’t like his family, but I just can’t do anything about this stupid heart of mine. I like him. I like him a lot, I think.”
When Betsy didn’t reply, Rosemary stood up straight and took a deep breath. Time to let it go, for now, she thought.
Betsy said, “I need to have a lie-down, and we’ll discuss this in the morning.” That translated to I need my Xanax and a glass of wine, and I’m going to go to sleep at eight p.m. so I can end this most wretched of days as early as possible.
Rosemary was left alone to eat two plates of chicken, sweet potato, and the best damn fried okra in the entire South. Which was fine with her, because it gave her time to think about the future.
She didn’t just really like Ash, as she’d told Betsy. Rosemary was certain he was the one. She’d felt the connection before they’d even laid hands on each other. She didn’t have much experience with men, but this near-tangible thread between her and Ash pulled and pulled at her with a mystical force.
The biggest issue hanging over any potential relationship with Ash was a doozy. This family secret could be a dealbreaker. It would crush her if that was the result. So it was a good idea to tell Ash immediately about who—or what—she was. Better to be crushed now than destroyed later.
The secret she kept was a beast inside her. It was such a hushed secret that sometimes she forgot it herself, except at the new moon. Those nights, the big cat had to come out and prowl. On other days, they had control of the cat but could let them out at will. She hardly ever shifted voluntarily; she was afraid of the harm she could do to other humans.
On new moons, Rosemary felt at home within her own family. The DuChamps descended from a long line of panther shifters, and their clan had stalked the Gulf Coast for centuries. They lived large as humans, but once a month they disappeared into the shadows, leaving their NDA-bound house staff to supply standard, vague answers to prying questions from acquaintances, the media, and business associates.
The family, its house staff, and the family’s closest friends had been sworn to secrecy for centuries, and so far, none of the “Normals” had ever found out. Their secret was still a secret, as far as Rosemary knew. So how did the DuChamps, historically, tell their significant others about their secret identities? she wondered.
At what point would she tell Ash what she was? And how would she go about it? Her mother had had a difficult enough time schooling Rosemary on puberty and how babies were made, but she’d never prepared her on how to tell a future mate that they were getting mixed up with a shifter family.
“This family sure loves to keep their shit locked down,” Rosemary said with a sigh, poking at her sweet potato fries. “So locked down that a girl barely knows how to function in society.”
Accepting the idea of marrying a shifter was a big ask for anyone to accept. The idea that their children could inherit that pesky feline DNA? Putting herself in his shoes? That would be terrifying for anyone. And a mate from one of the most popular families in the city? Forget it. He would run for the hills, and Rosemary wouldn’t blame him. If he did run for it once he found out what she was, she had another, trickier, problem—how to keep him from blabbing about the DuChamps to everyone in town.
Wow, she thought, popping a sweet potato fry into her mouth. I am woefully unprepared for every extenuating circumstance, ain’t I? I sailed through high school, college, finishing school, and the world is my oyster should I choose to keep living with Daddy’s money. But the truth is, I don’t know shit.
Rosemary piled a fork-load of sauce with chicken into her mouth. She chewed on her thoughts and on the chicken. She had a feeling about Ash. She already knew they were meant to be together. Much in the same way that Daddy sometimes would talk about how he knew Mama was his mate. Lionel and Betsy may be old, stubborn sticks in the mud, but back in their day, it was said they were fated mates from the moment they met. If Rosemary understood all this correctly, this was the same feeling she got around Ash. As soon as she had set eyes on him, she knew he was the one.
So that was just how it was going to be. They were meant to be together. And he would just have to accept her for who she was, or she would suffer and pine for him forever. Maybe settle down with someone her daddy liked better, someone from the country club.
But she couldn’t see that happening. She only saw herself with Ash. If worst came to worst, maybe that trust fund would help soften the blow.
Chapter Four
Ash
“Baby, I was kind of hoping to drop that truth bomb with a little more finesse.”
Ash was white as a sheet as he listened to his girl Rosemary tell him her story from last night’s dinner at the DuChamp mansion.
“Finesse? I’d love to see you try to finesse Lionel and Betsy.” She stood with her arms crossed, looking as sexy as hell even tho
ugh she showed almost no skin. Tonight they had decided to meet up at the cemetery to go for a walk and talk, to get to know each other. She was wearing a practical peacoat and jeans with some crazy-hot boots. Even covered up, his saucy little Rosemary was making his chinos feel tight.
“I just meant,” he continued, “that when you lower the boom, put some butter on it first.”
Ash stopped on the narrow walking path to help Rosemary step over a jumble of tree roots that had broken up the walking path in the oldest part of the cemetery.
Rosemary smiled. “Put some butter on the boom? Sure, the old time-tested butter boom. That your nickname for your little friend I had in my mouth the other night?”
The path widened again as they entered a small grove of trees, and he fell in beside her again. Ash had to admit he had sounded absurd. “I don’t know, I was just thinking of doing it a little more slowly. Let them get used to me being around. Like a drip, drip, drip of water that makes a beautiful canyon.”
Rosemary suddenly stopped and looked at Ash straight on. She had something serious to say. “Ash, what is your middle name?”
“Odd question to ask at this juncture, but okay. Lewis.”
The magnolia tree behind her had to be hundreds of years old, Ash thought as he watched his girl chew him out, and he couldn’t help imagining how pretty it would look in full bloom in summertime, made even prettier with his Rosemary framed by its white blossoms and glossy dark leaves. “Ashton Lewis Boudreaux, are you high? Because if you are using drugs, we are just going to go ahead and end this thing before we even start.”
He laughed and looked over at a very old crypt that bore the name of a family he didn’t recognize; they had wandered into the most remote part of the cemetery. Ash laughed. “I’m not high. I’m talking about easing into things. Getting people acclimated to seeing me around before, you know, going public with our private business.”