by Rebecca Main
“Have you been spying on me again?” I ask, scandalized. A blush creeps up my neck to my cheeks. He chuckles. The sound dark and hypnotizing. “For your information,” I tell him pertly, “I’m not wearing my matching set, just the bra today.”
The back door at the end of the kitchen slams open. Xander strides forward snapping his phone shut. Excitement pools at the juncture of my thighs.
“You’re not allowed to be here during work hours,” I scold lightly, my breath catching as I spot the roguish look in his eyes.
“You closed ten minutes ago,” he notes, stalking closer as I wind my way around one of the metal worktables. “Come here,” he orders breathlessly. The familiar desire to heed the alpha’s order pulls at me, but my own will trumps it and I stand my ground.
“Nuh uh,” I respond coyly, letting out a squeal as he speeds around the table’s side and sweeps me into his arms.
“Liar,” he says with a knowing smirk as he moves aside my thong with deft fingers and traces the wetness that has gathered between my legs. I shudder a laugh, pushing my hips eagerly into his wandering hand. I moan as he inserts two fingers that begin to pump in lazy strokes. He nips at my cheekbone.
“Oops.”
The thick, hard outline of his cock presses against my hip as he inserts a third finger, preparing me for what is to come. I moan into the bruising kiss he delivers, shivering in delight as I feel the fabric of my panties being ripped from my body.
“I’m running out of my last few panties, Xander,” I scold with a laugh as I pull back from our kiss. He frowns at me in feigned confusion while lifting me onto the metal table and unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants. My hands reach out to stop him, and his confusion turns to exasperation.
“I told you I would buy you new ones,” he tells me, pressing a hard kiss to my lips, effectively shutting me up. For the moment. I dive into the kiss. Press my tongue against his and drink him in.
“You said that five weeks ago,” I say with a gasp as his lips voyage down my neck. My hand finds his cock, throbbing and warm. Hard and ready.
He smirks and drags me closer to the edge of the table, the head of his dick pressing firmly against my entrance, already slick with want from anticipation. “Oops.”
Our shared laughter changes quickly to moans of appreciation. The sound of our coupling reverberates through the small kitchen. Xander sets a slow pace, grinding up and into me with long, measured strokes that drive me wild.
“Faster,” I plead against his lips, my hands making quick work of his shirt to rake my nails down his dark-haired chest.
“Whatever you want,” he grunts back, his pistoning hips driving faster and harder. “Fuck, Zoelle,” he growls into my ear as my hand slips past his shoulder and presses against his soulmark. He bites down on my neck just as I cry out my orgasm. He growls, hips slamming one more time into mine as he reaches his own climax. We take a moment to calm our racing hearts. “Why did you do that?” he asks breathlessly. "We were just getting started."
I smooth his hair back before gently pushing him away, a satisfied smile on my lips. “Because,” I announce, slipping off the counter and tucking his softening dick back inside his pants, “work sex has to be quickies only.”
He frowns at my response, prepared to argue when the back door slams open once more. Xander presses me behind him as he steps in front of me, a vicious snarl on his lips that stops almost as soon as it came.
“Ryatt? What are you doing here?” I peek around Xander’s side to see Ryatt looking particularly out of sorts.
He takes a deep breath. “We have a problem.”
Midnight Scoundrel
Midnight Scoundrel | Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Connect with Rebecca
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Two days prior
Ryatt
The bar is a dump. A skim of the narrow landscape is all that’s needed to confirm the fact. My nose wrinkles at the smell of stale, days-old alcohol. The likes of which seeped into the walls decades ago, along with the patrons. It is not a place to meet new people. Nor to gather with friends and lament your day’s end. Here the patrons sit widely apart, each oozing their declarations of “fuck off” with slumped shoulders and threatening scowls.
It suits my needs exactly, for I’ve no wish to be bothered. I stop midstep when my inspection is interrupted by a golden beauty sulking at the dingy bar.
She’s wearing one of those off-the-shoulder dresses that seem to be all the rage this summer. Her hair, half up, sits high atop her head in one of those messy little buns with glimpses of silver dripping from her ears. And then there is her skin. Tan and healthy—glowing. She is like an oasis in this desert dump, pining away over several empty shot glasses and a cell phone. The beauty casts a wary glance over her shoulder as the door slams shut behind me. Her blue eyes widen from afar, her lips falling into a gentle “O” before she sends me a determined frown. It’s a much gentler “fuck off” than all the others I receive. It’s quite adorable really. Certainly not enough to stop me.
I send her a grin that falls somewhere between lascivious and mischievous and saunter forward.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a bar like this?” I ask, making sure my voice is a pleasant, husky hum as I seat myself next to this golden goddess. The duffle bag I carry is set gingerly underneath the barstool I chose.
“How original,” she responds tartly. Disdain evident. Her eyes flicker toward me curiously, to run the length of my body, lingering a tad too long to be respectable. I make sure to keep myself poised under her scrutiny, muscles flexing minutely under it. She scoffs belatedly, a blush rising to her cheeks as if she is aware of her faux pas. A pleased smile ventures onto my lips when she turns her attention to the bartender. Fingers fluttering away to signal him. “Another, José.”
“I’ll have whatever the lady is having, but make it a double.” She stiffens slightly, and I watch in interest as she attempts to ignore me. She’s certain to have a difficult time of it.
I inhale. She is by far the prettiest thing I’ve seen in miles, and she smells of a tangle of emotions: fear, adrenaline, and the faintest trace of arousal. All blended between hints of lilac and lavender perfume. Of course, there is a touch of grief mingled in between, but it’s the same as every other poor sap in this godforsaken bar. She casts another sidelong glance my way as the tequila is set in front of us. Will she take the bait?
“Cheers,” she chirps after a moment’s hesitation. Her smile is a brittle thing as she thrusts her shoulders back and swirls her creaking stool toward me. The liquid is down her throat before I can even reach my glass. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was some supernatural creature with her speed and grace, but her scent is completely human. I let out an amused chuckle before knocking back mine.
“Going somewhere, sweetheart?”
I let my eyes flick toward the pale pink suitcase near her feet, but hers do not follow as I expect. A delicate chime trills from her phone and with a sigh, she gives the electronic her attention. Her brow scrunches together, lips pursing as she furiously types a response. By the time she has finished, I have already signaled José for another round. When the drinks are set down, she gives another gentle scoff and flips her hair over her shoulder.
“Gee, thanks.” But there is nothing sweet about the way her rosy lips curl into such a saccharine smile. Playing hard to get? No problem.
“Let me guess,” I lean closer, a devious and knowing smirk in place. “You just broke up with your boyfriend. This was your first big
trip together, and you caught him with someone else. One of those dark-haired beauties around these parts. Now you’re making the trek back home, all by your lonesome, pissed off and upset that you wasted your time and money on a vacation that ended in heartbreak. Am I close?”
She swallows, her eyes widening and her heartbeat ticking up just a fraction. Her surprise is palpable, so I soften just a tad and reach for the tequila.
“Something like that,” she finally mutters.
“I’ve always preferred the fairer types,” I tell her. The scoff I earn is mixed with a furtive laugh, one she is quick to mask behind a cough. Got you. “Kyle,” I lie, lifting the shot glass in a peace offering. Her icy gaze melts and shifts to the remaining shot glass.
“Fuck it,” she mumbles under her breath, snatching up the shot glass and clinking it against mine. We down it as one and politely ignore each other’s grimaces as the amber liquor burns its way down. “Mary,” she offers. My sights narrow at the way her voice goes a little high at the end, my hearing picking up the way her heart skips a beat. She raises an eyebrow in challenge, but I only chuckle. Why not play this little game of lies and see where it takes us?
“Tell me all about your troubles, sweet Mary,” I coo. She rolls her eyes, the hint of a smile gracing her lips.
“I’m not nearly drunk enough,” Mary confesses coyly. I’m about to respond when one of her legs drags itself up and across the other. Her dress, already so short, hikes up another perilous inch to reveal more sun-kissed skin. I let my gaze enjoy the newly revealed flesh for a moment before capturing her eyes with mine. I put on a wolfish grin and enjoy the way she replies in kind with her own knowing smirk. Let the games begin.
+++
Mary is a recent graduate from the Art Institute of California in San Francisco. She waxes on about the likes of Friedrich and Turner. How the dark and gloomy Romanticism speaks to her soul.
I am a nomad. Traveling South American with all that’s left to my name in the bag at my feet. I tell her how I revel in the nights spent under the stars and my daring treks across the scorched and barren earth, but I’m always hungering for something more.
She has stopped taking her shots in one toss, preferring to sip on the molten elixir instead. Her baby blue eyes turn to steely storms, as the hours tick on. When I tease at her inability to keep up, she reminds me that she has been sitting at this desolate bar much longer than I. And that she is always able to keep up.
Somewhere around shot 11 or 12, I slip and call her beautiful. It brings the most delicious blush to her cheeks. Though she eyes me speculatively from beneath her long lashes, she does not rebuff my compliment. A few more shots taken, and she proclaims she’s never been with a real man. One who knows how to take care of a woman, or himself, for that matter. I confess that I’ve never been in love. That no woman has been able to tame my wild heart. Her eyes widen.
When I return from the bathroom—a literal shit hole—Mary is collecting her things and attempting to finish off a bottle of water she’s pulled from her purse. She wiggles it enticingly in front of me, only a quarter of the bottle left. I take it and sit down with a huff, finishing the warm water in two long drags.
“You’re leaving?” I mumble. The bathroom mirror has proven my eyes are just as glazed as hers, if not more. They lose their hunter’s sharpness, but I know in my gut this night has already been sealed.
“I leave tomorrow on an early flight,” she explains clumsily, her heartbeat picking up. “I should really go get some sleep while I can.”
I nod knowingly, but reach out and grab her wrist before she can take a step. “Where are you staying?”
“At a motel nearby,” she whispers, letting the silence grow between us as she leans her body ever so slightly toward me.
A twinkle sparkles behind my misty blue eyes. “Me too.”
+++
Our bags are left carelessly near the door of her motel room as the door slams shut behind us. I let her press my body against the cool metal. I savor the way her luscious curves sink into me as she attacks my mouth. I groan into the kiss, enthused with her eager attentions, and kiss back just as zealously. It has been rough these past few weeks trying to track down the other half of the Crystal of Dan Furth, but I did it. Now our alliance with the Trinity Coven will be cemented, and our lands guaranteed protection. I deserve a reward. One night of wicked splendor spent with this little lost lamb before going home victorious to my pack.
Her nails rake a path down my chest and tug at the belt wrapped around my waist.
“Bed,” she whispers hotly against my lips. I nod, driving forward until we land in a heap atop the questionable blanket. The bed lets out a long groan of protest as we work our way toward the middle.
“You. Are. Glorious.” I punctuate each word with a searing kiss. She lets out a breathy laugh. “And so fucking soft.” I nuzzle the warm flesh of her neck, breathing in the heavy scent of adrenaline and arousal wafting from her skin. It is more obvious to me now that I am in far worse shape than she is, as her deft fingers work magic on my body. She pulls back, out of breath and observes me through lust-filled eyes. A beat later, she reaches toward the nightstand near her head to snatch a water bottle. She downs the small amount of water left in it before tossing it to the ground with a satisfied sigh.
“You should drink more water,” she tells me matter-of-factly, tossing a look to the other half-empty bottle still on the nightstand. “I don’t want you losing steam halfway because you’re dehy—” I roll my eyes but do as she says, seizing the bottle on my second attempt and finishing it off in messy gulps.
“Good boy,” she teases before flipping me onto my back. I let out a wry laugh, pushing aside the way my head swims at the motion and placing my hands on her hips to steady myself. If she prefers to take control—scorn that ex-boyfriend of hers—so be it. The view from the bottom is one of my favorites.
Mary locks eyes with me and grinds her hips down. Immediately our stunted moans fill the room. She is stunning, her hair mussed and framing her face. Her lips part and eyes darken to a fever pitch. When she rolls her hips again, she lets her fingers fist into the fabric of my Henley, moaning low in her throat at the coarse friction. Then my shirt is being pulled away from my body to explore the expanse of my chest and abs. When her hands tease lower, I watch her through heavy-lidded eyes. She makes her descent slowly, caressing my neck, then chest with her soft lips.
A wave of dizziness stirs in my head at the sensation. An almost purr-like noise escapes as her teeth dare to nip at the taut muscles of my pectorals. I let my hands wander the length of her thighs. Venturing higher and higher until her secret is discovered. I let out a sound of deep longing and look at her with newfound interest.
“You are full of surprises, little lamb,” I hiss, fingers meeting only warm skin. There is nothing between her and me, except my jeans. She gives a saucy smile and slaps away my hand. “Tease,” I mumble, stretching my arms languidly back and allowing her to do as she pleases. She sinks lower, leaving wet, open-mouth kisses all the way down south of my navel. Nip. Kiss. A swirl of the tongue and down one inch more.
“What’s the rush?” she whispers as she undoes my belt and jeans, then jerks them down. I cannot contain my animalistic growl, the wolf inside me howling in anticipation. It is unusually riled, but then again, I have not indulged in skin this sweet in weeks. We are both starved. I attempt to lean up on my elbows but find myself suddenly extremely fatigued. I needed more water.
“Water,” I beg, voice hoarse as I look around the nightstand, then to her. My little vixen. She’s situated comfortably between my thighs, licking her lips as she stares down my cock.
“Impressive,” Mary says, tongue flicking out to trace its head and ignoring my plea. I grit my teeth and inhale deeply through my nose. Screw the water then. My hand reaches down to cup the back of her neck and guide her lips around my aching cock when the most startling sensation overcomes me. With a strangled gasp, my hips lurch u
pward and I enter the warmth of her mouth. She releases a moan, eyes wide and a bit unsure as they look up at me.