by Zoey Marcel
Brad chuckled to himself over the thought of her slapping him in real life if he ever uttered anything so obnoxious to her like that. He might do so jokingly just to see her get fired up over his arrogance, but in his fantasy he could be as full of himself as he wanted and she would eat it all up.
“I know I can handle it. I’ve never seen anyone so big.”
“I know you haven’t. Is it overwhelming for you?”
He smiled to himself, wondering if his over-the-top fantasy had anything to do with the fact that he knew the real her and enjoyed pissing her off.
In this mind, however, she couldn’t refuse him or sass him. Oh, no. She could only ache and plead for him as it should be, as it would be when he got his hands on her.
“Yes. Help me through this. I want to make you happy. Teach me to please you,” she begged, stroking his thigh.
Brad ran her panties up his inner thigh, feeling his groin tighten at the impending contact with his erection. “Touch my cock, babe. Take it in your mouth and suck it.”
“I want to so bad, but I’ve never done that before.”
“Never?”
She blushed and shook her head. “I’ve only had vanilla sex with boring, ugly men. They never took the time to pleasure me. You gave me my first orgasm in the library. The pleasure almost killed me. Tell me what to do and I’ll obey.”
He moaned when the delicate rasp of lace smoothed over his pulsing shaft. “Take my cock in your mouth and suck me off. Play with my balls, too.”
“Yes, Brad. Thank you for letting me pleasure you.”
Brad grinned at that last part. Yeah, she’d say that over his dead body. He groped his testes with the panties, groaning at the blissful stimulation. The thong slid up his organ, caressing it gently on the ascent. He wrapped her underwear around his swollen dick and pumped himself swiftly.
Her cheeks bulged as they tried to take in as much of his erection as she could. She was timid and uncertain, but he crooned to her softly in between panting as he tenderly guided her through this unfamiliar terrain.
She’d probably never had anyone give her oral sex before, either. Well, maybe that was a bit far-fetched, but he’d bet his life she’d never been penetrated anally. He would be the first and he’d rock her world doing it.
He felt himself close to finishing and capped his cockhead with her panties as he jerked himself toward abandon. In his head, his semen flooded her pretty mouth, but even the reality that he just shot his cum into her panties to mingle with the lust stain in the crotch of them was equally titillating.
He lay there a moment, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t know which part he would enjoy more, having sex with her or holding her close in the afterglow of passion. It would be beyond paradise to feel her soft, warm body lying against him, skin on skin, as she gazed at him with those lovely green eyes of hers and whispered sweet endearments to him.
He snickered ruefully. If his fantasy had been stretching before, it was utterly ridiculous now. She loved his younger brother, Dawson, not him. Her attraction to him was purely sexual.
Cory bugged her with his pesky, pseudo-stalker tendencies toward her, but Brad could tell she found him appealing.
And yet she denied all three of them—four if one counted all the wicked gratification she denied herself by her refusal to succumb to temptation with them.
Brad grabbed his clothes and some fresh underwear and headed into the bathroom to shower. He would wash her panties when he was done and when they were dry he’d lay them out on one of his satin decorative pillows just like he told her he would.
As the deluge of hot water merged with the soapy lather to cleanse and soothe his spent body, his mind wandered back in time. Chanel had dated Dawson in high school. They lost their virginity to each other.
Cory had liked her, too, but he knew better than to make a play for one of his brother’s crushes. He flirted with her, but Brad sometimes wondered if Cory’s feelings for her ran a little deeper than he let on.
Brad knew the moment Dawson brought her home with him to meet them that she was his mate. He tried to convince himself it was only lust and she wasn’t predestined for him, because Dawson was crazy about her. But Brad couldn’t change how he felt, so he moved away from Pasadena, California and settled in Temptation, Wyoming instead. The fates might not give a damn whether or not his younger brother got hurt, but Brad sure did.
But Dawson did get hurt. Chanel broke up with him right after he apparently told her he was a shape-shifter. Brad could comprehend her surprise, even uncertainty over being with a were creature, but to freak out and end her two-year relationship with Dawson over it?
The poor guy had tried to reason with her, but she moved away, claiming she needed to focus on her career rather than romance and it didn’t bother her that he had an animal counterpart to his nature.
Brad knew that was a bunch of bullshit. While Chanel was definitely driven and ambitious, back then at least she’d struck him as the kind of girl who would give up anything for love, even a career. For some reason, it unsettled her that Dawson could shape-shift. Still, he was a fucking bunny. If anything she should be petting him and fawning over him since she liked cute, cuddly animals so much.
Dawson had eventually moved to Temptation after college and moved in with Brad. Cory was the youngest, but he eventually came to live there, too, a few years later.
Chanel’s older sister, Jill, had moved there after marrying Sheriff Ben Easton, and Chanel eventually came to Temptation to be near her sister. After some kind of fight, Jill had left Ben and moved back to California, though they were still legally married. Brad didn’t know what the fight was about. Ben never talked about it, but Brad knew the sheriff still loved his estranged wife. He hoped someday they got back together and worked things out. He recalled how happy and in love they had been together.
For some reason, Chanel didn’t follow Jill back to California. Brad liked to think she stayed behind because she’d seen him and his brothers in town and wanted to be near them again.
Cory had been the first to admit to Dawson that he’d always wanted Chanel. Cory was drunk and blurted that she was his mate. Brad and Dawson added that she was their mate, too. After a bit of arguing and two days of silence, they finally agreed that ruining their relationship over a woman wasn’t worth it, but none of them wanted to give up the chance with Chanel, either. They concluded that sharing her was the only option, as that seemed to be what fate had in mind all along.
Now the only problem was convincing the thirty-three-year-old hellion that she was meant for all three of them. He also wanted to get to the bottom of her issue with shape-shifters in general. She hadn’t merely broken up with Dawson all those years ago because he was a were-rabbit. She seemed to have a problem with shifters period. A nasty, vehement problem with them that seemed a little too potent to be normal.
Chapter Two:
Lucius
Chanel took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder before going into the magic shop. It was dark out so no one should see her. She often had to be on the lookout for Cory Taylor. The man was twenty-eight, about five years younger than her, but for some reason, he got a big kick out of pursuing an older woman who pretended to want nothing to do with him. He was a loveable cross between an adorable, mischievous puppy and a shameless flirt.
Him she could handle in the bedroom. It was that oldest, twisted brother of his that made her nervous. Brad was dark and sexual. Although he was probably the hottest man she’d ever seen and his arrogance was strangely one of his irresistible charms, it made her roll her eyes that he seemed to think he was God’s gift to her. As if she were a clueless virgin he expected to simper in his arms and die from his expertise in the sack. Ha! If he only knew some of the kink she’d tried it would probably humble him or piss him off to know she had as much experience as she did.
Sex with Dawson back in high school had been tender and sweet. Even though she’d matured sexually since then, she
still counted those first awkward, intimate encounters as the best of her life, because it was the only time she had ever truly made love to someone and been so touched by a man that it made her cry.
If she were ever careless enough to sleep with Cory, she’d give it to him playful and fun. Maybe even dominate him a little. She had a feeling he would like the abuse. After all, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the constant rejection she gave him. A little pain with his pleasure would probably make him really happy.
But she and Brad would never work. He was too powerful and dominant. She got the impression and he’d laid it out for her in explicit terms that he liked to be in charge in the bedroom. Well, too freaking bad, because so did she.
She could see Cory going both ways, but she couldn’t see Brad yielding control to anyone, let alone a woman. Neither would she. She enjoyed equality during vanilla sex, but no man was going to tie her up, hold her down, and have his way with her again, for as much as the idea still turned her on. She was the queen bee in the bedroom now, and her little drones must obey her and revel in her skill.
She and Brad were both just too stubborn to submit to anyone and would never go well together because of it, so that was the end of that. She wished he wasn’t such a stud. Resisting him would be that much easier if he weren’t so handsome and virile.
Chanel entered the magic shop, pleased to find the Scottish witch alone.
Hilary motioned for her to follow. “Hello, Chanel. Cameron will be out here to help any customers who come in, but we’ll have some privacy in the back room.”
Cameron Hunter popped up from behind the counter as he put merchandise away. “Hey, Chanel, what are you doing here? You know this is Satan’s warehouse, don’t you?”
Chanel rolled her eyes. She probably shouldn’t have said those things to them in the past, or called Hilary an underworld concubine for selling her soul to the dark arts. The witch had been surprisingly forgiving of her when Chanel approached her about doing a locator spell.
“I just need Hilary’s help. That’s all,” she explained.
Hilary turned to her man. “We probably won’t be long. I’m merely going to do a locator spell for her. Be sure no one disturbs us.”
“No problem.” Cameron smiled lovingly at Hilary and her face lit up when she thanked him.
Chanel followed Hilary into the back room and shut the door behind them. There was an enormous map of the world on the floor that looked to be made completely of salt dough—the kind she’d enjoyed playing with in elementary school as a kid.
“Is that salt dough?”
Hilary was beaming. “Aye, they were out of those atlas rugs at the toy store so I made many batches of salt dough to represent the world.”
“Wow. You even took the time to paint it.”
“Oh, aye. It will be easier to identify different terrain and landmarks this way. I only marked the very largest cities in each region. I ran out of time and would like to get back to my life outside of handling dough.”
Chanel smiled. “I can understand that. Thanks for going to all this trouble for me.”
“’Tis all right. Sit down.” Hilary lit some candles, and they sat on the floor near the dough map surrounded by burning candles. “Now who is the person you want me to find for you?”
“His name is Lucius.”
“Do you know his last name?”
“No. Not his real one. I don’t think he even has one.”
“Did you bring something of his like I told you to?”
“Yeah.” Chanel pulled the freezer bag out of her purse containing the pocket knife with dried blood on it. “This is his blood. It’s years old, but it should still work, right?”
Hilary just stared at the knife she pulled from the bag and handed to her. “Aye, it will. I’m certain there is an interesting tale behind this?”
“I paid you to do a spell for me, no questions asked. Remember?” Chanel asked firmly.
She remembered the night Lucius wanted her to cut him after he used his own knife on her. He wanted them to always have each other’s blood on the other one’s knife as a sort of dark bond between them.
“Aye. My apologies.”
Hilary took the knife, said a chant in another language, and sprinkled some kind of glittery dust over the blade. She let go of the knife and it floated in the air between them, the dust and blood now glowing. After a few more words, the knife turned and stuck suddenly into the salt map as if it had been thrown there by an invisible force.
Chanel stared at the blade stuck in the dough over what appeared to be the Nevada region in a dot marked Las Vegas. “It worked.”
“Aye, it appears he is in the place some refer to as Sin City.”
“Is there any way to find out where at exactly?”
Hilary removed the knife and placed a crystal ball over the dot in its place. She spoke foreign words as she lightly touched the sphere with the blade and it lit up, revealing the nocturnal streets of Las Vegas before the image changed to the inside of a casino.
Chanel stiffened when she saw him. Lucius sat at a gaming table, playing poker. She would know that face anywhere. The sight of it made her stomach knot up nearly to the point of nausea as memories resurfaced. He looked up at one of his comrades and she saw his soulless, pale blue eyes, the slow, evil grin he wore, and the scar on his right cheek.
She couldn’t look at him without breaking. Couldn’t be reminded of the past without despising him and herself for that horrible night. She gawked at the haunting image of him in the crystal ball, unable to keep her eyes from welling, her mouth from gaping slightly, and her hands from shaking.
“Is that the one you’re looking for?” Hilary asked.
Chanel snapped out of her painful trance and shook her head frantically, fighting back the tears. “No, it’s not.”
Hilary frowned. “Are you sure?”
“It’s not him,” Chanel insisted as she staggered to her feet. “I have to go. Thank you for your time.”
She packed the knife up and hurried out as the tears broke free. She dashed out of the store and got into her car as quickly as she could, wailing uncontrollably. God damn him. She would kill him. Even if she had to sell her soul to do it she would kill him.
A gentle knock on her window startled her. She looked up to see Cory Taylor waving at her and looking concerned by her bawling. He took a step backward when she opened the car door a crack.
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Why are you crying?” His tone was tender and he looked so sweet standing in the darkness with the snow falling lightly onto his blond hair.
“Mind your own business. I want to be alone right now.” Her eyes squeezed shut, milking fresh, hot tears from her. She was too upset to pretend with him. She did want to be alone right now, but at the same time, she also really wanted him to stay with her.
“Don’t be that way, sugar. I can help you.” He gently brushed away one of her tears with his finger. “I just got off work. I’ll buy you a drink. I know pink martinis are your favorite.”
His caring touch warmed and chilled her. The beckoning smile on his boyishly handsome face lifted her spirits and she nodded. “Okay.”
* * * *
Stein’s bar was hopping when they got there. The place was owned and run by Lars and Millie Stein. They were both German and had turned the establishment into a German bar complete with imported beers and authentic German food, though they did have other drinks and food there as well. The ambiance definitely had a unique feel to it and they often played music from Germany there, though they sometimes changed it up a bit. Tonight they were playing country music.
Chanel loved how the girls that worked there wore dirndls. She’d come in a few times for a drink and seen Cory tending the bar. He’d been hired recently and she found the drinks he made were exceptional, but that could’ve been a bias on her part.
She sat up on a barstool with Cory at the counter and drank
her pink martini a little faster than usual, wanting to get drunk. Anything to drown out the pain and sorrow crippling her at the moment.
Cory had a blue martini and periodically rubbed her back gently to comfort her, even though she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. The benevolent contact soothed her.
“Did you have a good day at work today?” he asked.
The question reminded her of a discussion a husband and wife might have together over dinner. “It was fine.”
“Did anything happen?”
Her cheeks became warm when she recalled what Brad did to her earlier in the classic books section of the library. “No. Did he tell you?”
Cory seemed confused. “Did who tell me what?”
“Nothing.”
He grinned. “Oh, come on. It’s something good, I can tell.”
She blushed and took another sip of her drink. “Never mind.”
There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “Dawson texted me a little bit ago before I found you outside. He said you agreed to go to Sally Moore’s Christmas party with him and then you changed your mind just like that a few minutes later.”
“So?” She felt numb inside.
“Is it because he wanted you to go with all three of us?”
“A woman going to a Christmas party with three men is hardly a date.”
“It’s a ménage, honey.” He took her hand in his. “It’s what we want with you.”
Chanel knew she should pull her hand away, but his big, warm hand felt so inviting and right holding hers. “Be realistic, Cory. You guys just want to fool around with me like you’ve done in the past with other women. There’s no future for me in that.”
“You’re wrong, my little Tootsie Roll. I mean, I’m not gonna lie to you. We’ve got all kinds of raunchy things we’d like to do to you, but we want you for keeps.”
“I can’t have a family with you guys.”