by Anya Breton
He came up for air, breathing in the brisk scent of plains wind. When Sam repeated the motion a second time, fast on the heels of the first, his body took over. Dion closed his lips over one bouncing breast. Soon his balls slapped her ass with a rapid staccato that drowned out the soft jazz music in the nearby room. Her back arched, pushing one ripe nipple farther into his mouth. Dion eagerly lapped at it as though it were the sweetest of cotton candy—his favorite summer treat.
Samantha’s whimpers and mewls threatened to get them caught. Begrudgingly, he released her nipple so he could swallow her noises instead. He’d not planned to fuck her while she was on the job. But now that he was, he would make sure she didn’t have any reason to regret it.
That soon became difficult when her mewls turned to keening. Dion’s own sounds were hard to quiet while her body clasped him from the inside out. She was so close. Her inner walls cocooned him in a heavenly, velvet grip.
When she let go, Dion held still, inhaling her every howl of pleasure even as her muscles mercilessly milked him. Somehow he managed to hold off until her sounds quieted. A single thrust brought him the rest of the way. His groan snaked through her throat, shaking them both as his seed flooded the condom.
Moments later, she lay sprawled back against the metal table with him pressed to her side. They panted from the exertion of a really, really, really good fuck.
He could think only one thought—it was a damn good thing he’d insisted upon fucking her multiple times.
Happy people laughing in the nearby room brought Sam out of the relaxed afterglow of what had been incredible sex. She was at work. In a few minutes she had to serve cake to the matron funding this shindig. And her skirt was currently twisted around her waist.
Sam wanted to curse Dion for doing this to her. But it wasn’t his fault. He’d kissed her, yes, but she hadn’t stopped him.
Deep down she’d always known the most dangerous part about Dion Hebert wasn’t what he did for a living or how strong he was thanks to the Were virus running through his veins. No, the most dangerous part was how much she wanted him.
“You can use my shirt to clean up.” Had he noted the defeated slump of her shoulders when she realized how screwed she was? Had that prompted his suggestion? “Do you want me to get you some damp towels?”
Sam craned her head toward him. Dion met her gaze with a sluggish lift of his lids, as though he was tired.
He was too attractive. And he knew it. He knew when a female gazed into those irises—irises that weren’t dark but instead a kaleidoscope of walnut, evergreen and gold—they were rarely working with the entirety of their intelligence.
“We have towels back here,” she told him.
“Where are they?”
Obviously the question was a hint she should get up. But her lower half still trembled from the amazing orgasm he’d given her. And getting up meant he’d pull his cock out. That would be the official end of a sexy rendezvous she’d never expected.
“I’ll get them,” Sam replied. “Just as soon as I get up.”
“Or we could just sit here until I’m ready for round two.”
Her heart did a mad skip at the wicked suggestion. Dion coaxed her with a light kiss pressed to her jawline. Sam almost agreed. Almost. “They’re expecting cake and champagne soon,” she argued instead.
“You don’t still have to bake the cake, do you?”
“No.” Sam snorted at the ridiculous question. “It’s on a cart in the corner.”
“What can I do to help?”
It was all she could stand. Sam struggled to free herself from beneath his bulk. Dion’s eyes snapped open in surprise but he did roll back on his heels to allow her to stand. She ignored it as well as the final sensation of his softening cock sliding out of her.
She must be dripping. Her lower half was uncomfortable and cold now that the act was over. Now that she could easily hear things beyond his ragged breathing and slapping skin. If she was caught like this, with her linen skirt hiked and her shirt missing, she’d never get another catering job in the city.
Sam hurried to fetch the shirt and bra where Dion had discarded them. She raced across the makeshift kitchen to the door she knew held a bathroom. Thankfully there was a stack of four fluffy white towels. More importantly there was a shower.
Sam started the hot water and then stripped off her skirt. She carefully hung the garment on the nearby towel rack for the steam to work out the wrinkles that had formed. And because she couldn’t afford the time it would take to fix her hair, she also slipped on the shower cap she found folded into a tiny square, compliments of the hotel. Seconds later she was in the shower, rinsing off the evidence of what she’d just done.
Dion didn’t want to leave her. They had things to discuss. Plans to make. She’d rushed off too soon. He hadn’t gotten his fill of her afterglow.
She was better than he’d imagined. Those tits were the perfect shape to fit in his mouth. Dion had yet another descriptor to add to his cache for her.
The witch with the tastiest tits.
And mouth. Her mouth was like sugared, savory treats on a holiday evening—warm and homey.
Homey? Where the fuck—
Voices nearing the door warned that he was about to be found. At supernatural speed, he grabbed the torn panties from the floor, his shirt, blazer and every button he could find. Dion slipped out the opposite door a split second before the kitchen was breached.
Samantha’s assistant lied about a mishap with a tureen of bisque while Dion drew his blazer over his shoulders in the empty corridor. Secure that Samantha was taken care of, Dion started for the parking lot.
He’d come to make a date with Samantha. Instead, he’d gotten sex.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad trade-off.
* * * * *
Sam twisted the hot-water knob into the off position. Her assistant’s voice filtered through the wall.
“Spent the past twenty minutes mopping up all that bisque. But Samantha’s hose were ruined. I’m not sure what else didn’t make it. We’re still on track for the reveal of your cake in ten minutes, Mrs. Hobson. Don’t you worry.”
Kacey would get a raise after this.
Sam hurried to dry her damp limbs. She left off her thigh-highs to go along with the plan. Her thoughts swirled as she brought the linen skirt up over her bare ass.
There’d been no conversation between Mrs. Hobson and Dion. Surely Sam would have heard his deep voice if he’d spoken. So where had Dion gone off to?
Had he fucked her and then run? What an ass.
Then again…if he’d stayed, he might have insisted she make good on the rest of their agreement.
With a flush riding high on her cheeks, Sam exited the bathroom to find only Kacey in the kitchen, arranging the remainder of the glasses on one of their carts. The young woman scanned Sam up and down, perhaps noting the horizontal creases in the black linen skirt.
“I’m so sorry,” Sam rushed to apologize.
Kacey’s lips spread into a mischievous smile. “You’d do the same for me.”
She wouldn’t have. Sam would have fired Kacey for doing what she’d just done. Now…now she had no choice but to accept it, were it to happen.
It was time to get back to work.
Sam squared her shoulders to give herself a boost of confidence. And then she grabbed the second cart of glasses.
Chapter Eight
Pounding bass rattled the bed. Sam dragged her pillow over her head with a pitiful whimper. Why couldn’t Kari be like normal teens? The ones who slept until noon.
Sam shot upright. Kari.
She listened to make sure the low rhythm was coming from her sister’s room rather than from a passing car. Yes, that was M.I.A.—Kari’s new favorite artist.
Sam stopped to visit the restroom before checking on her sister. Kari lay angled atop her pink bed with her legs dangling over the edge. A magazine with skinny women dressed in the latest fashions spread out before her
.
“I want donuts,” the girl announced without looking up. No doubt she’d used magic to hear Sam’s movement over the racket of her music. “It’s the least you can do considering how early I was woken up this morning.”
Kari hadn’t been home when Sam returned from the party at ten. Sam had conked right out after receiving the text message with the news her sister was out and to not wait up. Thus it hadn’t been her fault Kari was up early.
“I didn’t wake you.”
“The doorbell did.” Kari waved a set of blue manicured nails toward the door. “For your special delivery.”
Sam stumbled back in bemusement. What special delivery? She feared she knew.
Dion had escaped after sex. He’d probably sent her flowers to make up for it. Did she want flowers from a weretiger gangster?
Yes. Sam’s face warmed at her traitorous thought. But what kind of flowers would a gangster buy the woman he’d fucked in the kitchen behind a party?
Sam hurried down the corridor, far too eager to find out. Kari had probably put the flowers in the kitchen where they would get the most sun. At least that was what Sam would do.
Sam halted a foot from the living room entrance. Her jaw dropped wide open at what awaited within.
It wasn’t flowers. Unless the floral-printed throw pillows on her new sofa counted.
Dear Aer, he’d bought her furniture.
* * * * *
Sam tossed open the front door to check the weather. Was it stormy outside to match her disposition? Fluffy clouds crowded the bright-blue sky, mocking her rotten mood. She dug her nails into the wood.
He hadn’t called. Or stopped by.
Aer! She should be glad the odious man hadn’t dropped by.
Sam set her foot behind her, preparing to twist away from the reminder that no weretiger waited on her porch.
But…
That blue Ford pickup truck across the street was familiar. The vehicle had been parked nearby for the past few days. Sam squinted to get a better look. A familiar face peered back.
Sam pulled her robe close around her and then stepped out the door.
“Kevin?” she asked once she reached the door to the weretiger Gamma’s truck.
He rolled down the window for her, a blush coloring his cheeks. “Hi.”
“How long have you been here?”
“U-um…” His stammer hinted he’d been out front all night.
Sam shook her head in dismay. “Come inside.” Her tone brooked no argument and surprisingly he gave none. Perhaps because the suggestion wasn’t contrary to the commands he’d already been given.
The weretiger took a good look at the new sofa on his way through the living room. Sam hurried around the corner to hide her pink cheeks.
“Kari, one of my new interns is going to crash in the guest room for a few hours before he goes to his other job.” She shouted the lie over the pounding music.
A rank odor assaulted her senses—both her nose and her now-watering eyes. Sam opened her mouth to complain about her sister’s laundry problem. A creak from behind quieted her. Someone’s foot had hit a plank that had been loose for as long as she could remember.
Kevin.
Aer in the sky, he smelled horrible. Kari would never believe he was an intern of hers—not smelling like that. Sam smoothly turned, grabbed his shoulder and then tugged him toward the bathroom. There she pantomimed showering until he got the message.
Once he was safely hidden behind the curtain, Sam sneaked in to replace his noxious garments with an oversized T-shirt and baggy pants. She’d wash his clothes for him. No way would she let him near one of their beds in something so disgusting.
Sam dressed during the seven minutes it took Kevin to scrub himself down. Kevin must have known how bad his odor was because he didn’t complain when he stepped out of the shower to find his things replaced by unisex items. And he didn’t stop her when she told him she was going out for donuts and coffee but would be back within an hour.
* * * * *
Sam strode across the donut shop toward her best friend. Emma was dressed in a nylon tracksuit that shouldn’t have looked half as good as it did. The kid behind the counter stared as the jacket rose up Emma’s bare belly during her powerful yawn.
Sam stepped in his line of sight, where she gestured at the row of cardboard boxes waiting to be filled. “A dozen glazed. Fresh if you have them.”
The kid’s fuzzy eyes cleared. They were sharp by the time he shuffled off to prepare her order.
“I’m sooo tired,” Emma complained behind Sam’s left shoulder. “I was up half the night researching for my dissertation.”
Emma’s continuing education was one of the reasons they got along. Emma wasn’t content to slide through life as a trophy wife despite the numerous offers she’d received. Instead, the bombshell was working on her PhD in literature.
“I fucked Dion Hebert last night.” Sam hadn’t meant to blurt it out quite like that. Certainly not with the donut boy hovering six feet away. Thankfully she’d spoken quietly and no one else was in line.
A glance back showed Emma’s mouth was stuck open mid yawn. Her lips clamped down. “I’m sorry. I know I didn’t hear you right.”
“You did,” Sam hurried to reply when the donut boy returned to ask for her payment.
She passed the twenty-dollar bill across the counter in exchange for the box of donuts. A tiny bit of drool hung from the kid’s lip when he handed her the change. Disgusted, Sam swiveled around and started for the door.
They were going for coffee next and then they’d head to the house. Sam had insisted Emma meet her at the donut shop first so she’d have an opportunity to explain what had happened without Kari overhearing.
Though Emma had driven herself, she got into the sedan beside Sam. She turned in the bucket seat to stare Sam down the first chance she got. “You fucked Dion Hebert? The guy you publicly insulted in front of most of the Underground?”
Sam couldn’t argue. Not really. “Yes,” she admitted. A shameful flush warmed her cheeks.
“Why?”
“I asked him for help finding Kari. He said he would in exchange for…”
“Sex,” Emma finished for her flatly when Sam couldn’t complete the thought. “And you agreed?”
“Kari is back. He rescued her.” Sam’s pitch lifted defensively as she gestured in the direction of her house.
Even though her sister acted as if nothing had happened, as if Kari hadn’t been kidnapped by a weaver who might have killed her, she was indeed back.
“So you had sex.” Emma shook her head with a slow, incredulous movement that sent her long blonde hair feathering over her tracksuit. “How was it?”
“Oh Aer.” Sam let her head fall against the headrest. “Amazing.”
“He looks like the kind of guy who is amazing in bed.”
Then why hadn’t Emma gone after the weretiger?
Images of Emma on that metal table with Dion flared in Sam’s mind. The swift burn of jealousy rose in her gut. They needed a new topic before Sam released the hiss she was holding in.
“He bought me a sofa,” Sam announced, attention focused not on the woman beside her but on the windshield. “And a coffee table.”
“Why did he do that?”
Sam shrugged. Emma’s guess was as good as hers. She’d expected flowers. Not furniture—beautiful, comfortable, expensive furniture.
Emma’s lips quirked to the left. “You’re just that good, Sam-ham?”
“No,” she was quick to argue. Her brain must have been firing with all its pistons today because she soon recalled a few facts. “The furniture arrived before I woke at eleven thirty. I saw Dion last night at eight thirty. He wouldn’t have had a lot of time to pick out a sofa and table and then have it delivered this morning.”
Emma’s golden eyebrows lifted slightly. “You think he ordered it before you slept with him?”
“I don’t know.” Sam shook her head in confusion.
“Do you think he could have pulled it off?”
“He’s Dion Hebert.”
Sam gave a firm nod. “He could have pulled it off.”
“Are they nice?”
“You’ll just have to see for yourself.”
Emma pushed her fingers beneath the lid of the shirt box to pilfer a donut. She headed to her car with the confection firmly between her lips. Twenty minutes later, they each had complicated coffee drinks in one hand and donuts in the other as they stood staring at the new sofa.
“The table looks expensive,” Emma commented.
Sam sent her friend a speculative glance. “Just the table?”
“Well, I don’t know how much sofas cost these days but I know that kind of wood.” She waved a limp hand toward the coffee table. “Teak isn’t cheap.”
Sam nibbled the last of her donut to keep from having to reply. The table did look expensive. And the sofa probably was too. She couldn’t accept these.
“I’m going to have to make him take them back,” she declared.
Emma whirled to face her. Her hair floated around her on an invisible current. “Are you crazy?”
Dion had already done enough in finding Kari. Buying furniture wasn’t part of their deal. Since Sam didn’t want Kari to overhear, she limited her answer to a shake of her head.
Emma lifted her index finger in a motherly fashion. “Never give a man back his gifts. Collect as much as you can before you kick him to the curb.”
Sam pressed her lips tight to keep from explaining the true extent of the deal she’d made.
Maybe Emma was right. Maybe Dion owed her furniture in exchange for the blow her reputation would take if he claimed the rest of his payment. Either way, Sam needed to find out why he’d done it.
* * * * *
“There’s a woman out here to see you, Dion.”
He already knew. His ears had pricked when her airy voice spoke inside his restaurant. Even better, she’d asked for him.