Deviant Attraction: A Dark and Dirty Boxset

by Bene, Jennifer

  “My place or yours?” he asked, still smiling.

  “I remember you describing your apartment as shitty, so let’s go to mine. It’s a step above that.” Heather made herself laugh and he turned and waved down the bartender to pay. His excitement to leave with her filled her with guilt, but she couldn’t deny the heat either. She wanted to kiss him again, she wanted to climb onto his lap and straddle him. Feel his lips move over her skin.

  All while you curse him to die. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

  “Heather?” Neil was standing beside his stool, and it seemed like he’d said her name more than once. He had paid, and he was snatching her coat off the back of the stool. “Ready?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  Neither one of them was fit to drive so they grabbed a cab, and they spent the whole ride to her apartment making out like teenagers in the back. Heather’s coat was unbuttoned, Neil’s hand was under her shirt, stroking her waist and inching higher to brush the cup of her bra. His lips practically never left hers unless they needed to gasp for breath. Each nip of his teeth had her moaning softly and he picked up on it. His touches grew firmer, his fingers digging into her hip to pull her towards him. His fingers in her hair tightened until she whimpered against his mouth, and Neil just smiled.

  Oh, he was perfect.

  When they stumbled into her apartment, they dropped their bags on the floor. Neil carried an old, worn, leather backpack like some kind of European traveler. She had the same messenger bag she carried every day, only this time it held the deadly little care package her aunt had made. He pressed his lips against hers again before he shrugged his coat off, leaving it by the door, and reached for hers. Heather stumbled and ended up against the back of the couch.

  His body was flush against hers in an instant, his hands on either side of her face, and he was hard against her stomach. He wanted her, he really did, the unlucky bastard. She wanted to go for the button of his pants, but everything she needed for the rite was in the messenger bag.

  Don’t disappoint me, Heather. I don’t want to have to tell Patrice she’s lost a daughter.

  With a hard swallow she broke the kiss and regrettably pushed his hips back from her. For a moment his grip on her face tightened and she saw something flash in his eyes. Was he angry that she’d pushed him away? Should she make up an explanation? The serious stare was an expression she hadn’t seen on him in the few hours she’d been around him — but then it was gone, and he was smiling again.

  “Sorry, you’re just kind of irresistible.” Neil laughed and stepped back from her. “How about I pour us a drink? Do you have anything?” He turned to look at her kitchen and she cleared her throat and nodded, straightening her shirt.

  “Yeah, there’s a bottle of Pinot Noir in the fridge, should be enough left for a glass each. I’m, um, going to put some stuff away. Glasses are above the stove.” She smiled and he nodded as he headed to make them drinks.

  Grabbing her messenger bag from the floor she escaped to her bedroom to rip it open and move fast. She had picked the room up that morning, hid anything personal, and made the bed. The kit Carol had put together was carefully wrapped in a beautiful navy cloth covered in stars, but she tossed it aside and grabbed the seven small, blessed candles to set around the room. Then she set the glass bottle of oil on the bedside table, and folded the comforter down to leave the sheets bare. There was a note that had fluttered to the floor with a drawing in ink of the rune and she snatched it up. As if every Pritchett didn’t have that rune memorized. Below it was her Aunt Carol’s handwriting:

  We all love you, Heather. We always have. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but this is who you are, who you were meant to be, and we can’t wait to see what you will do. Be strong for all of us, we’ll be here to catch you. — Carol

  Heather crumpled up the note and shoved it in the top drawer of her dresser just as Neil stepped into the doorway. His hair was a rumpled mess from having her hands in it, his smile was devilish, and he looked incredible. The sweater he was in fit him well, and it hinted at the firm chest she’d been pressed against on the cab ride home. Even better, he had two glasses of wine in his hands. “You have a nice place.”

  Ignore the guilt. Think of what’s at stake.

  “Thanks.” She took the glass he offered her and took a big drink to steady her nerves, before wrinkling her nose at the taste. “Sorry about the wine, I think I let it sit in the fridge too long.”

  “It tastes fine to me.” He smiled and sat down on the edge of her bed like he already owned the place, looking her up and down. “But, you’re still wearing your coat, and a lot of other things I don’t think you need.”

  Heather took another large drink from her glass before she set it down and pulled her coat off her shoulders. Neil was watching her from the bed, his gaze intense, and she suddenly felt odd.

  It’s just the guilt. Stop fucking thinking about it.

  “Take it off, Heather.” His voice held an edge that reminded her of Rick’s dominance, but she shoved the thought of Rick away. She wouldn’t taint him by bringing him into this, not even mentally, but she couldn’t deny the way heat pooled inside her when Neil commanded her. Her coat came off and she folded it, putting it on the little chair in the corner of her room. “Top too,” he added.

  “Am I going to be the only one shirtless?” Heather flirted and he seemed to clench his teeth for a moment, way too serious, before he smiled again and took a drink of his wine. Neil held the glass between his legs as he pulled the sweater over his head. She didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was checking him out. His arms were strong. Muscular. The same as his chest, and his carved abs. Heather thought about writing a thank you note to the army if this was who they produced.

  “Your turn.” He dropped the sweater on the floor and grabbed his wine again. She took a sip of hers too, going for liquid courage, then she pulled her top off, and he returned the favor of checking her out. “Very nice. Now the jeans, Heather.” His voice was a sensual growl as he guided her to undress. She nodded, the intensity of his stare ramping up her heart rate and making her skin buzz with excitement. As usual, when a guy got all dominant she struggled to communicate, but she liked it. It made it easier to keep going. Her jeans came off with her shoes and her socks, and she was left in the matching bra and panties she had selected just for this moment. The black, lacy fabric of both looked good on her, lifted her breasts, and it seemed Neil liked what he saw. He stood to move towards her and she held up a hand. Her aunts’ voices were echoing in her head again — she couldn’t screw this up.

  “How about I give you a massage?” Her smile was brittle, her muscles jumping with the eagerness to feel him against her, to drown her guilt in pleasure. But she wasn’t ready yet. She had to get the rune on his skin. Neil glanced at the bedside table, seeing the glass bottle and he set his wine next to it.

  “I could give you one instead?” He offered as he turned back to her.

  “Me first. Lie down? I promise I’m good at this.” Heather stepped close and kissed him softly, but he stiffened, and for a second he didn’t return the kiss. It made her stomach turn; she wasn’t being convincing enough. She wasn’t flirting enough. She was going to fuck up again, and then she was going to die bleeding in a forest somewhere. With the guilt and anxiety pecking away at her confidence she was about to pull away — and then he kissed her back with fervor. His hands wrapped to the back of her neck, his tongue brushing against hers. It was a good kiss, the kind that would have normally taken her breath away, and it made her moan softly against his mouth. Neil groaned and then he pulled back from her, his blue eyes boring into hers. “Massage.” She pushed at his shoulders and he laughed as he lay out on her bed on his stomach.

  “I’d much rather be doing something else.” Neil’s bravado was making an appearance again, and she hated how much she liked it.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay? Enjoy it.” Heather chewed on her lip as she climbed onto
the bed, straddling his upper thighs. As she did she realized she was wet, really wet, and Neil felt fantastic underneath her. With a breath she fought the urge to rock her hips against him, to flip him over, yank his pants down and climb on top to fuck away all of the shame of why he was really in her bed. Instead she leaned over and grabbed the bottle of oil, her breasts brushing against his back.

  His arms were folded under his head, but he looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. “Are you teasing me on purpose?”

  She laughed. “No. Just grabbing the oil.” Uncorking the bottle she poured some into her hand, the scent of herbs rising up until she closed the bottle off again and set it aside. Before she lost her nerve Heather dipped a finger in the oil and quickly traced the rune across his back — the clean lines glistening in the light.

  She waited for it to settle in, absorbing fast like it was meant to thanks to the magic in the oil itself — and now she had done it. There was no going back now.

  He was marked for Herja. Marked for death.

  Heather shook her head, pushing down the remorse as she rubbed her hands together and started the massage. His muscles were tense, locked up hard, but she kept going. Working at the knots as he let out quiet moans of pleasure. Her hands were confident, because she actually did know how to give a decent massage, and she watched his ribs expand with a breath as he finally started to relax.

  “You’re good at this, Heather.” Neil groaned as she dug her hands in, tracing along his spine, his muscles shifting under her hands. Her skin was hot against his, buzzing, and the pulse between her thighs was getting hard to ignore. She wanted him. She wanted him now. “Heather?”

  Neil leaned up, twisting at his waist to look at her. He started to turn over and she lifted up onto her knees to let him. When he was on his back, gazing up at her she realized how shallow her breaths were, how all she had to do was inch forward a bit and she could rub against his erection. Why was she so turned on? Was this what all her cousins had felt? This urge to conquer? Why hadn’t she felt it with Isaiah? “You had some tension in your back,” Heather mumbled lamely.

  “Well, now that you’ve had your hands on me, what about my turn?” Neil slid his hands up her thighs, her waist, her ribs, until he was cupping her breasts through her bra. Tingling fire rushed over her skin in his wake. He sat up, his chest close to hers as he unhooked her bra and tossed it away. Then he kissed her again and his hands found her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hard nipples. His touch was fire and static electricity on her skin, coiling the tension tighter and tighter between her thighs until she found herself rocking against the erection still trapped in his pants.

  “I want you.” Heather whimpered against his mouth, her fingers digging into his upper arms, trying to pull him closer. She needed him closer, she needed him inside her.

  “I know you do.” Neil’s voice was dark, serious — and strange.

  That was a weird response, more than just the cocky bravado he’d shown before. Didn’t he want her too? His hands dropped to her waist and he lifted her from him easily, depositing her back on the bed.

  “Stay.” He ordered, and she obeyed out of confusion as he walked out of her room.

  Where is he going?

  Heather waited, panting, her skin damp with perspiration as the heat inside spread over her body. She was too tense, taut, everything focused between her thighs — and she couldn’t take it anymore. Sliding her hand under the edge of her underwear she found herself soaked, her hips jerking when she brushed her clit. Holy shit. It was like sparks rushing through her as she rubbed, letting her knees fall open so that she could pick up her normal rhythm, edging closer and closer… until Neil’s voice interrupted her.

  “Trying to start without me, Heather?”

  She pulled her hand away fast, blushing furiously, embarrassment warring with lust. What was wrong with her? “I’m just wound up,” she confessed, the blood in her cheeks scalding her as the pulse of want at her core only got stronger. Apparently her guilt was passing in this haze of desire, likely some twisted gift from Herja to help her go through with it. He half-smiled at her, lifting his backpack and setting it on the end of the bed.

  “Tell me, how are you feeling?” There was something off about him, different than the smiling charmer he’d been at the bar, but all she could focus on was the need for release. He opened the bag and arched an eyebrow at her as he started to dig through it.

  “Wound up, because someone decided to be a tease.” She smiled, trying to flirt, but he didn’t return it.

  “Are you a little whore then?”

  “What?” She flinched at the sudden harsh language, pulling her knees together.

  Neil stepped closer to her, putting one knee on the bed so he could lean down to meet her eye to eye. His hand crept into her hair and then snapped her head back painfully. “I asked if you’re a little whore, Heather Pritchett.”

  “Don’t be an asshole, Neil.” Something about the way he said her last name triggered alarm bells and she tried to twist out of his grip, but instead of releasing her Neil slammed her down on the bed, tightening his grip on her hair to hold her there.

  “Are you wet for me, Heather Lynn Pritchett?”

  She was starting to panic, his actions a little more than just playing rough, but her brain completely slammed on the brakes as she heard her middle name from his lips. “What the fuck? How do you know my middle name?”

  Neil slapped her and she gasped and whimpered as the pain spread, shock rushing through her as he hauled her up so he could reach into his backpack and remove a pair of handcuffs. “Oh, trust me, bitch, I know a lot more than that, and you’re going to confirm it all for me before I get what I want.”

  “Neil, stop! Let me go, right now!” She reached back to grab at the fist in her hair but he forced her to the bed again, and she was no match for his strength as his legs landed on either side of her thighs to pin her down. When she tried to shove him off he caught her wrist and the ratcheting sound of the cuff sent a chill down her spine, but the panic and fear was diffusing too fast in the flood of heat pulsing between her thighs.

  What the fuck is happening?

  “Heather, Heather, Heather... you and I are going to have some fun tonight, just a different kind of fun than you had planned.”

  “Get the fuck off me, Neil! I’ll call the cops!” As much as she fought, trying hard to twist her hips to buck him off, he still managed to hold her wrists down, forcing the other cuff through the bars in her headboard to lock the cuff around her free wrist. It was painfully tight, the metal digging into her skin. All that gorgeous muscle was working against her, and as she jerked her wrists the sharp pain of the restraints cutting into her flesh made her whimper. She was trapped, pinned vulnerable.

  “You’re not calling anyone, Heather.” His voice was a low growl, and despite her panic the presence of the bondage sent a rush of lightning through her body. She was wet between her thighs, she could feel it, and she hated herself even as the pulse at her clit started to distract her, tempting her to spread her legs just to make it stop.

  No. Focus.

  “Neil — Neil, listen to me. I didn’t agree to this, I didn’t agree to play like this. I don’t even have a safewo—”

  He covered her mouth with a hand, gripping her face painfully tight. “A safeword? You think I’m playing with you?” He chuckled, and it felt like she had swallowed ice cubes. “Actually, we are going to play a game, Heather, and if you lie to me or say anything except for the answers I’m looking for — you get punished. If you behave like a good little whore, then I might be nice and give you what you’re going to need very, very soon. Understand?” His words were ominous as his fingers trailed over her skin, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breast, and it was like he left static electricity in his wake. Pops of electric pleasure that ran along her muscles until they pooled between her thighs, making her pussy clench around nothing.

  “Neil—” She started to spea
k, but he slapped her again, a white-hot burst of pain across her cheek that made tears spring to her eyes as she tucked her face against her arm.

  What was happening? What had she done?

  “Yes or no, Heather. Do you understand this little game?”

  The tension inside her was twisting, a double-edged sword of need and fear as he trailed his fingers down her stomach. Her body seemed ignorant of the danger she was in, her back arching into his touch like a purring cat, her pussy growing wet. She forced herself to stay strong, to ignore the rising lust inside her. Be strong. “If I play your fucking game will you let me up?”

  “Maybe.” Neil pinched her nipple hard and she cried out as the sharp twist of pain made her arch her back in an attempt to ease it. “Yes or no, Heather.”

  “Fuck! Yes, I understand!” When she nodded quickly he released her, and she gasped at the absence of the pain, the hum of her body’s arousal crashing back over her like the tide coming in.

  Why the fuck am I so turned on? Am I really this fucked up?

  “Good girl. Alright, first question. Is your mother Patrice Lynn Pritchett?” Neil cupped her breast, his thumb lazily brushing over the nipple he’d just tortured like this was the most normal foreplay in the world. Her head was spinning as thumps of pleasure moved through her with each teasing touch.

  How the hell did he know her name? Her mom’s name? She racked her memories trying to remember if someone had said her mom’s name at the shop. No one had. And she was pretty sure she hadn’t provided her middle name to the speed-dating group.

  “Heather.” His voice held an edge of warning, and she gave a curt nod, trying to fight the panic and desire swirling insanely inside her, urging her to run while simultaneously urging her to beg him for release.

  Neither would be happening.

  “And you’re a witch. A Pritchett witch.” He stated it, and she nodded.

  At least she knew how he knew that part.

  “And you have a cousin, Amanda Nicole Pritchett? She lives in Hartford, Connecticut? Attended the University of Hartford?” Neil’s hand stopped moving against her skin, but Heather couldn’t think clearly. The pulse between her thighs was liquid heat, her clit aching for some kind of attention. This made no sense at all, she should be shouting at him to uncuff her. She was never this desperate, even when Rick teased her for hours, she was never this muddled and confused and they hadn’t had that much to drink. Realization dawned on her and her stomach turned.