by Quinn, Taryn
Creamy nougat teased her tastebuds after she popped the candy in her mouth. She chewed and wandered into her living room, turning on her myriad Halloween decorations on the way. Jack-o-lanterns and motion activated mummies, the ghost train that chugged in endless loops on its track in the spooky village she’d set up on the coffee table. She loved decorating and couldn’t wait until she was a real estate agent and could wander through other people’s homes, imagining families enjoying the house it would be her job to sell. Homes had their own personalities, and she thought matching the right one up with the perfect person to inhabit it was kind of an art.
Next week she’d take her test and then she’d wait to find out her fate. Whatever happened, she’d studied hard and she would keep trying until she passed. And then one day, maybe she’d work with Easton in a different capacity than as his assistant. She’d have her own listings, her own clients…
“Your own dead love life,” she muttered, sitting down in her favorite recliner and grabbing the remote. How apt that the first thing she encountered on the tube was a vampire film fest. She was just about to settle in when she remembered the caramel apples and candy corn in the kitchen. Sweet things were a weakness of hers, and she intended to indulge in at least one weakness tonight.
She retrieved her goodies and settled in her chair. One by one, she carefully cut off slices of tart apple saturated in creamy caramel. She’d planned on making more apples and handing them out to some of her favorite neighbor kids—the ones who knew and trusted her—but she’d lost interest in favor of vamping it up for Patrick. The half-used bottle of caramel sat in her refrigerator, just waiting.
Warmed caramel would feel so good on skin. Soft and silky and hot, perfect for her to eat off his cock as she sucked the hard length between her lips. She’d paint it over his stomach and those muscled thighs she only ever got to ogle in tight jeans. Even so, she remembered very well how they’d felt when he slammed into her from behind. Strong and firm, like the erection she’d brushed against tonight under his robe.
Nikki shuddered. God, would he come over tonight or not? Because if he didn’t, she’d have to take care of things herself.
She ate some of the candy corn and nibbled her apple, finally acknowledging she didn’t have much of an appetite. Too nervous. She turned off the movie and tossed out the last of the fruit.
Just as she was about to tuck away the candy, an idea occurred to her. Smiling, she hurried into the front hall and then traced the steps back to her bedroom. It helped that she had a small ranch-style home with only two possible directions to take from the front door. Either right into the living room and connected dining area or down the short hall to her kitchen, which then branched off into another hall and the home’s two bedrooms and bathrooms.
But she’d made it easy for Patrick to find her if he wanted to, especially since the Halloween decorations that seemed to occupy every corner offered just enough light. He could follow the path she’d left right to her bedroom.
In the meantime, she had to get ready. Just in case.
Seven
Though Patrick had wanted to chase after Nikki immediately, he couldn’t. He didn’t feel good about leaving East’s house without someone there to supervise. The guests weren’t exactly the rowdy, untrustworthy types, but still. A quick call to East’s cell had yielded only voicemail, as it did when he called an hour later.
Whatever East was up to, he didn’t want to be disturbed.
“Bastard,” Patrick said under his breath, giving a cheery goodbye to a departing druid priestess and her date, who appeared to be a cartoon character of some sort. Goodbyes made him happy. He wanted everyone to just go so he could go, too.
Which was why, at eleven-fifteen, he decided he’d had enough. People were not getting the hint and he was tired of kindly insisting people leave now to “beat the crowd.”
He switched off the music and waited for conversation to die down. Didn’t happen. He tried whistling on his fingers to get people to notice him. No go. Finally, he whacked the skeleton attached to a length of rope across the ceiling, sending it flying across the living room with a blood-curdling scream.
That worked.
“Sorry about the interruption, folks.” Patrick flashed a genial smile as a sea of displeased faces turned his way. “But now that I have your attention…”
By twenty minutes to midnight, the last of the guests had been ushered out. He did a quick tidying up job and ran out to his car, determined to get to Nikki’s house with a few moments to spare. Luckily she only lived a few miles away in a charming neighborhood with old-fashioned lamp posts, beautiful gardens and more wicker gliders on porches than he could count. Nikki’s home didn’t have a porch or a glider, but she did have a slightly menacing jack-o-lantern perched beside the front door on what appeared to be an old milk jug. He turned his head at the tinkle of wind chimes. Dancing glow-in-the dark skeletons swayed in the breeze.
Shaking his head, he reached for the doorknob. He had to fumble for it in the darkness and nearly bumped his head on the clutch of dried flowers spilling out of a purple bat-shaped container on the door. He grinned in spite of his sudden rush of nerves.
Nikki Carson clearly had a thing for Halloween. Just like his deceptive jerk of a younger brother.
Before thoughts of how East was spending his evening invaded his brain yet again, Patrick opened the door. And stepped into a pile of candy corn.
If it hadn’t been for all the lit things all over, he would never have seen the trail left for him. There was no doubt the candy led somewhere. Preferably right to Nikki’s luscious naked body.
He glanced at his watch and turned on the light on the side. Eleven fifty-two. Cutting it close.
His smile returned as he carefully made his way down the hall, sidestepping the triangles of sweet goodness that would lead him to glory. Unless she flipped out at his identity and sent him packing. But he chose not to dwell on that possibility. He’d just calmly enter her bedroom, assuming that was where she wanted him to end up, and state his case.
I’m not Easton, your boss. So, you know, if you were fulfilling some naughty boss-secretary fantasy and hoped one day I’d paddle you while you bent over my desk, sorry, not happening. If you wouldn’t mind stretching out to sunbathe on a steamy roof, however, maybe we could get some hot workplace action going just the same…
The smile forming on his face disappeared the instant he followed the meandering candy path through the kitchen and ended up in a darkened hallway that smelled of vanilla and rose. Women’s scents. Potpourri maybe, or fancy soaps. She was here, waiting for him. Probably pissed he’d taken so damn long.
He’d have to make it up to her. He grinned. Thoroughly.
Patrick made himself take a step, then another, until he reached the partially open doorway at the far end of the hallway. The scents of vanilla and caramel wafted out to him, and he gulped in a breath as he crossed the threshold.
Even before he’d begun to take in the spacious bedroom, her husky voice trailed over his skin and curled sinuous fingers of lust around his growing hard-on. “I’d put this away,” she said, bringing his gaze to where she sprawled on her enormous bed, her fingers stuck in a jar of something. “But then I was hungry and bored and needed something to do other than touching myself all night. Because, really, that can get old.”
While he watched, his heart drumming in his chest, she licked what looked like thick brown cream off her thumb. “Caramel,” she explained. “The good stuff. Bought it for apples. Then I started thinking of all its other uses…”
Somehow, somehow, he’d only vaguely glimpsed that she’d undone the closure at her waist and freed her breasts. His gaze had shot to her face and stayed there, but now he saw what he’d missed. Her curves shone in the triangle of moonlight beaming through the window and her sleek dark hair gleamed across her pillow. Shadows and secrets highlighted the intriguing peaks and valleys of her body, drawing him closer like a crooked finger and
a whispered promise. The dabs of caramel crowning each perfectly round breast taunted him. Beckoned him to touch and taste and devour.
But he couldn’t. Not until she knew who he was. For certain. This time he’d come clean and if she asked him to leave, so be it.
At least he’d have a fantasy to jerk off to until the misery faded.
“Nikki, I’m not who you think,” he began, prepared to recite his little speech no matter what.
But that no matter what hadn’t included Nikki setting aside her caramel and rising from the bed in one fluid motion. She strolled closer to him and reached up to stroke his cheek, her fingers playing over the thin scar on his jaw.
His breath caught. She knew. She had to know. She’d seen Easton so many times, and she was touching the very spot that would give away his identity. Thin, but ridged, a scar like that didn’t pop up overnight. A woman who pored over decorating magazines and fiddled with details like Nikki wouldn’t have missed it.
But instead of gasping in shocked indignation, she only reached for the belt of his costume. He hadn’t removed it yet, not wanting to take the time. Apparently Nikki had no problem doing the honors.
She leaned up as close as she could to his ear. “I want you to get this off and get on the bed.”
Breathing—and thinking—were becoming an exercise in futility. “Nikki, wait. We need to discuss this.”
“No. You need to get on my damn bed. Now.” Her sexy eyes seemed to glow in the light from the green-eyed bat dangling from an exposed beam over the bed. He would’ve chuckled at its placement if he hadn’t been so damn hard. “Maybe you didn’t get the hidden meaning in what I said before. If you don’t take off every stitch of clothes, you’re going to pay.” Meaningfully, she tugged on her tail, drawing the pom-pom on the end over his inner wrist. He shuddered. “Understand?”
He nodded and tugged the costume up and over his head.
Talking was overrated.
Eight
Nikki lifted her eyes to Patrick’s chiseled face as he tossed aside the devil costume. Underneath he wore boxers and a T-shirt, but he removed those quickly as well. When he was naked, save for the glinting silver disk medallion on leather cord around his neck, he cocked an eyebrow. “Am I to be your submissive tonight?”
“You’re to be whatever I command you to be.”
Enjoying her new role way too much, she lashed his sides with her tail while she did a full circle around his body. His cock wasn’t the only tight and firm part of him. The guy had one hell of a physique. Honed from hours of hard, sweaty work, no doubt, and not on a treadmill. Patrick built and fixed things in the hot sun day in and day out, which also accounted for the deep bronze of his skin in the flickering lights from her Halloween décor. She’d saved her biggest jack-o-lantern for this room because she wanted—needed—to see.
And now she needed to take him.
“Lay down on the bed,” she said, stopping in front of him. “And stroke your cock.”
For a moment, he stared at her, his hooded gaze intent. “You do understand that if I let you get things started, you won’t be finishing them.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow. “Who has the whip?”
“Your whip with a poufy thing on the end?” His scoff nearly made her grin. “Who has the serious weight and strength advantage?”
Without blinking, she stepped forward and shoved him backward on to the bed. That she’d caught him off-guard explained why he hadn’t been able to prepare, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was on his back and at her mercy.
“Now,” she purred, pulling her tail up between her legs. That poufy thing managed to make him twitch as she swished it over his sac. “I believe your hand should be right about here.” She flicked the head of his cock and noted his groan with a satisfied smile. “Or would you rather accept my punishment?”
“Bring it,” he said, resting his hands palms up at his sides as if he had no intention whatsoever of acquiescing to her demands.
She lifted the tail and drew it between her breasts, teasing the undersides with the soft tip. When Patrick’s eyes began to glaze, she drew back and brought the whip down hard on his cock.
He jolted as if she’d branded him, and a low groan escaped his throat as she bent to kiss his erection. “Oooh, did that hurt?” She knew it couldn’t have pained him much, but a darker strip bloomed across his length. She’d marked him.
Her thighs quivered with excitement. He really was hers to do with as she wished, at least right now. She intended to make the most of it.
“I said, did that hurt?” When he didn’t respond, she lashed him again, this time on his taut stomach just above his cock. He made a guttural sound that made thrills dance up and down her spine. “When I ask you for something, I want you to answer me.”
“It didn’t hurt,” he said through gritted teeth, each word causing his cock to jerk against his belly. She’d never seen a guy so hard before. “It felt fucking great.”
“Really?” Thoughtfully, she ran her tail between her hands. “You’re a bit of a sadist, huh?”
Two more quick strikes of the whip on his hard-on earned her a loud grunt. Patrick’s big hands clutched the sheets. “Suck it. Suck my cock.”
Her nipples, still shielded from the air by the dabs of caramel, stiffened in concert with her clit. She could barely breathe. And he thought she could give him a blowjob right now?
“Don’t think you’re quite ready.” She landed more glancing blows all around his dick, coming close but never connecting. His stomach muscles trembled with the strain. With one hand she reached down to grip him, holding him still while she raised the tail high and dangled it just above the swollen head. “You’re about to drip, aren’t you?” she whispered, eyeing the pre-cum about to slide down his flesh. “You like it rough.”
“I like anything you can dish out,” he growled seconds before she lowered her head to lick off her prize. Salty and delicious, just like Patrick.
She smiled and licked faster as his eyes slid closed. After a bit, he seemed to relax into her ministrations. A rapid series of lashes from the whip elicited a deep-seated groan, and this time she groaned, too. He’d begun to pump his hips, forcing his erection into her mouth, and his cock, wet from the strokes of her tongue and his own perspiration, gleamed in the green and orange light.
“Enjoy this while it lasts. Because your sweet pussy’s about to reap the benefits.” His quick intake of breath made her giggle. “A giggling dominatrix. Here I thought I’d seen it all.”
He snaked out a hand and yanked her forward until she was straddling his thighs with her hands braced on his stomach. His granite-hard erection bobbed between them, and she licked her lips at the renewed tightening in her nipples.
God, she wanted his mouth on her. Her breasts ached and her pussy clenched with hunger every time he gave her one of those sexy lingering looks. Like he was doing right now.
“First, I think we should clean up that mess you made.” Patrick dipped his head and swirled his tongue over each beaded tip in turn before taking them between his lips. He smiled around his mouthful when she took hold of his head in both hands, then eased back long enough to tease her verbally some more. “Mmm, tastes good. Almost as good as you’ll taste down here,” he added, rubbing his thigh between hers.
It was a line. She was sure it was. She trembled anyway, from his words and his technique. He knew just how to pull on the sore tips, pressing them against the roof of his mouth before easing back and drawing lightly.
“You like caramel apples?” she managed.
He slipped back for a moment. “Never tried them. But caramel nipples suit me just fine.”
Another laugh bubbled out of her, and that was more of a revelation than Patrick’s oral talents. She smiled and laughed all the time when he was around, whether it was at work when he cracked some silly joke before heading in to speak to Easton or right now, while he tormented her nipple betwee
n his teeth.
Pleasure gathered in the pit of her belly and her skin burned from within, but she still wanted to laugh. Wanted to enjoy every minute she had with him. Maybe they were more precious because they felt so fleeting. Anytime now, she’d open her eyes and realize she’d been dreaming this whole night.
To anchor herself, Nikki touched his hair, amazed at its softness. He kept it in the messy style that had become fashionable, a little too long in back and spiky on top, but it felt like cornsilk in her hand. She scooped up more and urged him to take her breast fully into his mouth. He obliged with a low slurping sound that sent ripples of desire through her system.
“Now then,” he murmured, pulling back. He gave her a quick smile at her disappointed cry. “You want me to stroke it?” His fingers glided up and down his steely length. It was her turn to gasp. “If so, I think you should start stroking, too.”
She wasn’t ready to completely abandon her new role—though he’d pretty much already taken over—but she also needed some sort of relief. Watching him, she ran her palms up her torso to her heavy breasts. She cupped them and scraped her nails over the wet tips, startled by the sound of unadulterated longing the movement wrenched from her lips. His mouth action had just primed her for more.
“Feel good?” His voice sounded so deep and…raw.
“Yes.” She quivered from his open attention. Quivered more when he gripped his hard-on and jerked in even pulls. “You?”
“Do I feel good?” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Why yeah, guess I do. Know what would feel better?”
She released one of her breasts to grab her tail. With a grin, she tapped it against his stomach, just missing his cock. It still leaped as if he’d expected the blow. “Thought you understood this was my show.”
“You thought wrong.”
He seized her arms and reversed their positions until she was underneath him. She wriggled with laughter as he fought to pin her hands. For a second, she gained control, but then he tickled her ribs and slipped his leg between hers, just enough distraction for him to get hold of her wrists.