I’m feeling free for the first time in years, and I rather like it. A part of me is worried about seeing Viv and Rafe again. Will I begin once more, against my will, to have haunting dreams about the three of us sharing a bed? Or will my new relationship with Candy help to stave off the old, not-so-hidden desires?
Above all, I need to focus on my duty to the couple. If Candy journeyed with me, I might be distracted. Or she might be the strength that helps me resist the seductive pull of the passionate couple. Either way, I do know introducing the subject of Candy to Vivian will be a delicate matter. Will she freak out or allow me to choose my own mate? Is it too soon to name Candy as my mate?
I shake my head, eager to dispel the conflicting thoughts for a few more hours. I’ll have plenty of time to be paranoid and stew on the plane. As I approach my cabin, with the special dinner the chef prepared for us, desire begins to flow through my veins. I know what awaits me beyond the heavy wooden door. A woman who wants me for me—not a partner who wants what I could become for her, like Diane did—but someone who desires me as I am: a man self-bound to a ruthless and very strong master.
I grab the knob and turn, pushing the door into the warm interior. “Hey,” I call out. “I’m back.”
Candy steps out from the bedroom, her long dark hair shining in good health, lying over one sexy bare shoulder. She’s clad in a skimpy pink nightie I’ve never seen before. “How did it go with Diane? I hope it wasn’t too awkward for you.”
My mouth dries up at the sight of her pert, firm breasts thrust against the thin silky material. “Uhh….”
She smiles, her pleasure over my dumbfounded reaction spreading across her face. “Cat got your tongue?”
I say the first thing that pops into my head. “I dunno—do you plan to change into a cat next?” Yup, I’m a born romantic.
“Only if you want me to,” she says while strolling languidly toward me. “But I hope you like me just as I am, I’d rather focus on something else than changing shape.”
“Really? And what would that be?”
She stops in front of me, nimble fingers from one hand skating up my jacket-covered chest, while the other hand grabs the bag of food and sets it on the floor. “Let’s get you out of this coat and I’ll fill you in.”
Faster than she can blink, I’ve unzipped my coat and unceremoniously thrown it to the floor near the door. “You were saying?”
Her surprised laughter spills into the room. “Talk about motivation. Maybe I should always dress in baby-doll nighties.”
“If that’s what that pink frothy concoction is called, then yes, I second that opinion.”
She turns around and shows me her full, rounded ass through the sheer fabric. Candy reaches out a hand and grabs the back of a wooden chair, leaning forward slightly and pushing her bottom out farther on display. “I might get cold, wearing nighties all the time. Or attract the wrong kind of attention.”
What the hell are we talking about again? All I can feel is the weight of my hard cock in my pants, weeping to be set free to play. “Uhh…” Without further thought, I step closer and run a hand lovingly over the plump curve of one cheek. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Are you sure, Jon?” A teasing note enters her voice as her hips circle, pushing her bottom more firmly onto my hand. “I’m not so sure I’d want everyone to see your ass on display.”
“What? I think I may have lost what we’re talking about.” I gesture toward the current physical predicament in my pants. “It’s hard to think straight with your pretty little bum begging to be touched.”
“See, that’s the problem, Jon.”
Warning bells go off in my head at the word “problem.” “Did I miss something, are you angry?”
She straightens and turns toward me, stepping close enough to run the tips of her breasts against my shirtfront. “Does it look like I’m angry?”
“No… but I’m not the brightest bulb when it comes to women.”
“Well, there is something I want to talk to you about.” And with that, she leans in and captures my mouth, tracing her tongue over my closed lips, tempting them to open.
I dive in, all thoughts of talk completely out of my head. One hand rises to caress the back of her head, tilting her slightly for better access as I plunge my tongue deep inside, claiming her mouth as my own. Her response is immediate and red hot. She slides one hand over my hip and to the front, clasping my hardness through my jeans.
A small mew of pleasure escapes her as she thrusts her hips forward to grind against my thigh. “I need…”
“Yes?” I ask, leaning down to nibble along her neck. “Tell me and it’s yours.”
She stiffens in my grasp. Somehow, what I said was not the right thing. I pull away and look into her face to see what the problem is. “Hey, are you okay?”
She nods, lowering her eyes to the ground. “I want to ask you for something, something I want sexually, but I’m worried how you’ll take it.”
The beautiful, vulnerable creature in front of me has my full attention now, and I cup her face in two hands. “You don’t need to worry about me. We’re good. Tell me what you want.” I skim a hand down her front to tease one erect nipple. “I’m sure I’d be open to anything you want to try.” I think back to the wild stuff we’ve done already and wonder what has her so hesitant.
Candy takes a deep breath, and blurts out, “I want you to spank me.” She looks up at me through the fringe of her lashes, like she’s trying to read my reaction.
“Excuse me?” I say. “You mean like BDSM kind of stuff?” I smile, confident I can try to please her even if my experience with the lifestyle is none existent.
“Yes, and no.”
“Okay. That’s not too clear. Care to elaborate?”
“I… uh… I don’t need punishment games, like I’m a bad girl and you have to discipline me. I…”
I grin, unable to help myself at the prospect of slapping her ass. “Just want a little slap and tickle?”
She frowns at me, but nods. “I like it. The arousal when the blood rushes to my cheeks is intense… and overwhelming. Is that weird?”
“Darling, I’ve lived for seven years on a supernatural resort that caters to the sexual tastes of a myriad of creatures from around the world. Did you really think you’d shock me and I’d refuse you? Or make you feel embarrassed by your desires?”
She shrugs and turns away, moving to lean a hip against the square wooden table in the center of the room. “I dunno. I just… haven’t really brought it up with other boyfriends before. Once I did and he refused, saying he wouldn’t hit a woman.”
“It’s not hitting you—”
“Exactly what I said!” Her face lights up. “So you do understand? It’s just something fun I like once in a while. You don’t think I’m weird or sick?”
Eager to show her I’m game to try whatever this fantastic woman desires, I pull out a solid wooden chair and take a seat. Patting my thighs, I indicate she should lean over and assume the position.
With a wide grin splitting her face, she complies, spreading herself over my lap. The thin material rises up due to her position, revealing the bottom half of two firm globes I can’t wait to smack.
“Someone else is liking this already and we haven’t even started,” she squirms on my erection, my eagerness prodding her middle, while she faces the floor.
“Once I walked in and saw you wearing this…” I skim the sheer fabric even higher, uncovering all of her butt. “I was lost.”
I reach one hand out and slowly caress her flesh. She wiggles a little, pushing herself toward my palm, eager to encourage me.
I deliver one resounding smack to her right cheek, causing her to squeak and squirm more. “Not so fast, missy. I’m the one handling the butt-smacking. You lie still.” Holding her down, I land three more quick slaps to the same cheek, then switch to the left one and rain more blows down on her tender skin.
Pausing, I smooth a hand over the heat
ed flesh, admiring the faint pink tinge rising to the surface. “Like that, Candy?”
“Yes!” she pants, eagerness in her tone. “God, it felt good.”
“Not too hard?”
“You can go harder if you want. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
I nod and run a hand between her thighs, pressing lightly to spread her legs. Going on a hunch, I send two questing fingers inward, testing her arousal. Moisture coats her swollen outer lips. “You do like this, don’t you, you naughty girl?”
“Shut up and give me what I want,” she replies, a hint of backbone in her tone. This one won’t be cowed by her desires, and I like it.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, raising my arm.
She wiggles again on my lap, apparently trying to smush her pubic bone on my thigh to get the pressure she craves on her sensitive clit. I deliver three more smacks, then skim over her rapidly reddening flesh to once again plunge between her thighs, this time going deeper to find her hard bundle of nerves at the base of her mound.
“Oh God… yes… just like that.”
I swirl and tease the tiny nub of flesh, listening to her breathing very carefully. After a few moments, I draw my fingers away and deliver another smack, this one harder than all the rest.
She shouts, rearing up and then falling back to my lap. “Again… oh God, please, do it again.”
I comply, hitting her even harder. She grunts in appreciation, thrusting her ass back for more. Wiggling my fingers again through her wetness to reach her clit, I stroke the raised nub. After a few passes, I pull back and sink two fingers into her tight sheath. Steadily I plunge in and out as her breathing becomes harsher. Without warning, I remove my hand and smack her bottom again, very hard, my palm wet with her desire.
“Again!”
I land three more fast, hard blows, and she whimpers. Unable to resist her arousal any longer I stand, lifting her from my lap at the same time.
“That’s it, we’re done,” I say, voice rough with desire.
“No, please, I was so close. Just a few more.”
I shove her toward the table and wrench my jeans down. “Lean over. I have something else in mind.”
My cock springs free, aiming directly at her glowing red bottom. Unable to hold myself back, I place one hand on her sensitive cheek and squeeze. She squeals and wiggles on the table. With the other hand, I guide myself into her dripping channel.
Releasing a groan, I thrust forward, lost in the moment, feeling myself come undone by this slip of a woman. Going on instinct, I lean over, grinding myself against her inflamed buttocks.
“Do you like that, baby? Do you want more?”
“Yes!”
“Come for me, rub yourself.”
She reaches to the side, angling her arm so she can touch her clit while I continue thrusting. I can tell the moment she reaches her goal. Her hips buck and she starts to circle them madly.
I lean back, gazing down on our joined bodies and her flaming cheeks. I raise my hand and deliver three more quick smacks, pushing her over the edge to reach her orgasm.
She screams out her pleasure, collapsing on the table as her inner walls spasm around me. Unable to hold off any longer, I join her, thrusting and pumping until the last rush of pleasure leaves my body.
We rest for a few minutes, lost in the glow of the moment. I pull away and lean down, planting a kiss on her red ass. “God, woman. What you do to me.”
A sultry chuckle sounds against the table. “I could have sworn that was my line.”
Images of Candy and our recent sexual escapades seep through my conscious, teasing me and making sleep on the plane impossible. A sigh of contentment escapes as a grin curls the corner of my mouth. Damn, that woman is fine. So passionate in her desires, and unselfconscious in getting exactly what she wants. If I close my eyes, I can still see her wiggling in discomfort with every smack of my palm.
I’ve had women who liked to play a little rough, but never a woman who knew what she needed and had no qualms about taking it. It’s sexy, and freeing.
All I know for sure is I want more of her. I want her every day of the week, every morning when I rise, and the seconds before I close my eyes to sleep. And all the time in between.
Holy shit. Could this be love?
One part of my mind immediately scoffs at the idea. Another deeper part of me realizes she’s exactly what I need and want in life. I just have to be man enough to realize it and act on it.
What about Vivian? What will she say?
Now there’s a question I can’t seem to escape. What will she say, how will she react? I have a feeling the feisty redhead is prepared for anything in life. If I’m able to remain loyal to her and still fall in love, she’ll know it from reading my mind. If I’m not…
What then? Would she kill Candy? Would her possession and jealousy push her to drastic measures?
Come on, it’s not like Vivian is a stalker with an unnatural attraction. She owns a part of you. She will always see the truth.
And what exactly is that truth?
Ahh… now that’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question.
Unwilling to examine my inner thoughts, especially when I have no idea where I stand, I decide to focus on meditating to strengthen my mental shields. I relax into the chair, reclining the seat to a sleeping position. The mental walls I’ve pictured—tall, thick, made of stone and reinforced with steel—rise around the “inner” me. Shielding my closest dreams, fears, and desires, shutting away my intimate moments with Candy… everything I value that I can’t share with the woman who is my master.
The only way I can be certain my waking thoughts don’t betray me is to control the barrier between them and the outside world. Slowly, I draw the recent memories inside the wall with me. My hope is with practice I will be able to block a casual reading of my random thoughts.
Fear of messing it up and unleashing a whole world of hurt on myself and Candy doesn’t act as the incentive you might think it would, so much as it acts as a painful reminder of what I have to lose if I don’t perfect this skill quickly.
After an hour I take a break, pulling out the folder with all the research I’ve done on witches and warlocks, wizards, and the “never turn a witch” vampire saying I discovered earlier. I didn’t find out anything new on the phrase, but I did learn more about South American magic. What the locals practice is called Brujería, the Spanish name for witchcraft or witch healers, but from what I read, it seems similar to what Diane practices.
None of what I found could explain how Justin became such an accomplished wizard so far from where the majority of them live, which is in North America and Europe.
Who could have taught him? Wizards normally learn from someone else, especially as the knowledge is written and passed down. It’s not a practice one could easily pick up on their own.
Okay, maybe I’m missing something. What do I know about him so far? We’ve got a youngish guy who knows enough magic and packs enough mojo to get hired by the Tribunal. How did such a man make the initial connection? Who did he know who helped land him the job? Did he do similar work for someone else, possibly a human, and the word spread to the supernatural community?
I shake my head at the unlikelihood of such a scenario. It would make more sense that he was referred by another supernatural. What mystical creatures are native to the area? Werewolves wouldn’t have evolved there, but a pack resides there nonetheless.
Which reminds me, I have to stop by and pay my respects to the local pack to keep the peace. If they discover I’m there first, things could get nasty. I met the alpha, Hector, years ago on one of my visits with Vivian and Rafe to the city. He’s an amiable sort and didn’t give me too much trouble once he realized I was passing through.
I grab my tablet and open the browser, wanting to pull up a map of the city and try to recall the exact location I previously met the Buenos Aires alpha. I think it was a bar on the edge of Centro. As I scroll through the windows I ope
ned earlier, searching for the map image, a news alert from the Argentine city pops up. Once again, I’m grateful for the convenience of traveling in a luxury jet—unlimited Internet connectivity on the long journey.
A murder was discovered late last night in a small barrio, or neighborhood, in the city. The young woman was beaten to death behind an herbal shop, no leads yet on her killer.
I read over the minimal details and then skim the rest of what’s happening in the city. It’s winter now in the southern hemisphere, but thankfully the weather never gets too cold in the subtropical climate. I never would have expected such a moderate fluctuation of temperatures in South America. The average for the entire year is low fifties to the mid-eighties.
Vivian and Rafe sure can pick locations for second homes. Supposedly, the couple owns residences in over a dozen countries around the world, but this is the only one I’ve visited with them since joining their two-person seethe almost eight years ago.
Closing the news site, I get back on track, examining the map carefully. I believe I first ran into the scent of the local pack in Monserrat, near the San Telmo barrio. They never took me to their “den,” for lack of a better term, or pack home, but met me in a neighborhood bar the pack frequents.
From what I recall, the city has around three dozen werewolves registered in their group, with maybe a few rogues who live further out, but they’d be loner wolves, rarely causing trouble with an established pack. As long as they kept to themselves and maintained a low profile, the established pack should leave them alone.
I blow up the image of the city until I find the neighborhood I’m looking for. There. Lupine Luna. That’s the place the pack hung out. I’ll have to stop by within twenty-four hours of my arrival. It’s never good to make a pack of Weres wait if you don’t have to.
Comfortable with where I need to go and what needs to be done after arrival, I turn off the device and sink into the comfortable recliner. I practice making my mental walls stronger for a few more minutes then allow my mind to drift and relax, hoping sleep will overcome me soon. I know when I arrive, Viv and Rafe will be adjusted to night hours, and I’ll need to keep up.
Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5) Page 5