by Jessica Sims
I felt tight, stretched. Delicious. “Feels so good,” I panted, encouraging him.
He thrust with the barest hint of movement, but I felt it down to my toes. I moaned in pleasure at the sensations that rocketed through me, trying to imitate his motions. His hand slid down my front again, plucking at my nipples as he thrust again, slow, precise.
“Not going to last for long,” he said, his breathing harsh. “So sweet and tight … so damn hot.”
His hand slid between my legs and he rubbed my clit hard with his next thrust, and I shattered. A high, keening cry came out of me as the orgasm swept over me, his fingers dancing over that hot spot as he thrust again, and then again and again, the movements smaller but sharper and more frequent. He bit at my shoulder again, thrusting hard, and I heard a feline snarl. He growled my name, and came inside me again, pressing down hard against my hips and grinding my flesh into his. My shoulder hurt where he’d bitten me, but it was so overwhelming that I didn’t care. I simply clung to him, my fingers wrapped in his hair, as his body subsided against mine.
Both of us were panting when his tongue rasped against the sensitive spot of my shoulder where he’d bitten me. It was rough like a cat’s, and I froze at the odd sensation. He continued licking my shoulder, and I winced.
“I’m sorry, sweet thing. I bit you. Fuck.” He sounded angry with himself. “I lost control.”
Sure enough, he’d bitten me hard enough to break the skin. A set of bite marks circled the white flesh of my shoulder; I’d probably be bruised in the morning.
And I found I didn’t care. I smiled. “That’s all right. It’s not like you can turn me into a were-cat if you don’t break the skin.”
He stilled. “How do you know?”
Oops. I couldn’t tell him that it was personal experience, that I was immune to turning. “I think Giselle mentioned it once,” I said casually.
“Bathsheba,” he said in a low, serious voice. “When we’re together, you have to tell me if I’m hurting you. With the heat … I … I can’t control myself very well.” The hard, raspy note was back in his voice, and I felt him stirring against me again.
Already?
It excited me, even through my exhaustion. I wiggled against him again, delighted that I could cause him to lose his mind like that. “I like what you do to me, Beau.”
He pressed his forehead against my shoulder. “Let’s give this a few minutes.” He seemed to be trying to compose himself.
But I liked the wild, untamed Beau. I was disappointed when he lifted me out of the tub and set me on my feet, our bodies sliding apart and leaving me with a sudden jab of loneliness. As I moved to the long counter where our towels lay, a glance in the mirror showed that Beau was still in the tub, his eyes closed. I frowned.
I toyed with my long hair and let it fall down my back in a damp cascade, the wet ends teasing the small of my back. “Would you dry my hair for me, Beau?” My voice sounded breathy and excited. His eyes opened and I ran my hand through the long, tangled strands, then deliberately leaned over the counter, my ass in the air, and glanced at him over my bitten shoulder.
I heard that same leonine snarl, and fast as lightning, Beau was across the room. He pressed me against the counter, my stomach sliding along the cool marble, and his hot, thick cock rammed into me from behind, hard and delicious. I cried out in surprised pleasure and Beau plunged deep, hard, and fast, and his hand clamped down on my shoulder, holding me against the counter as he pumped over and over again.
As I spiraled toward the newest orgasm, I wondered if I’d last until morning. And when my body stiffened with pleasure and I cried out his name, I decided that I didn’t care.
Chapter Fifteen
Several hours, seventeen climaxes, and a brief nap later, I pulled Beau’s discarded shirt over my head and went down to the kitchen for a drink. Beau was sleeping upstairs, his movements restless. I suspected that he’d wake soon and we’d go for another exhausting, wonderful round of sex. He’d woken me up twice during the night, his body demanding more in a wordless call that I was happy to answer.
My entire body was deliciously sore and my hair had long ago formed a mass of snarls that framed my face. I shoved it out of the way as I filled a glass with tap water, then squinted at the bright sunlight pouring through the window as I drank. I was wrecked. Happy, but wrecked.
There was a small red box on the counter, about the size of a book. A jaunty white bow covered the top and there was a tag on the cover. For Bathsheba. You can do my books anytime, sweet thing.
I lifted the lid and laughed at the calculator inside. A small ten-key, complete with rolls of tape in pastel colors. My name ran along the side of the calculator in alphabet stickers.
It brought tears to my eyes and I dabbed at them, feeling like an idiot and yet unable to stop smiling.
No one had ever bought me presents. My stepmother had rarely remembered, and when we’d had money, everything had gone to Sara. I’d been lucky to get hand-me-down clothing from neighbors. Never a present just to put a smile on my face.
I lifted it out of the box and held it to my breast, feeling absurd. I was about to bawl over a calculator. This is the part where you separate sex from love, idiot, I told myself, and put the calculator down. I couldn’t afford to get attached. I couldn’t.
Beau’s cell phone lay on the counter, and on a whim, I picked it up and called the office.
“Midnight Liaisons, this is Ryder. How can I make your Afterlife?”
“Very cute,” I teased her, my mood light and sunny. “New company slogan?”
“Just trying out some new ideas,” she agreed. “Wow, you sound happy. Things going well with the dates?”
“Just one date,” I said. “And yes, going really well. How are things in the office?”
“Good, good,” she said in a bored voice. “Got a few new vampires this week, a faerie prince looking for hot changeling action, and a random assortment of shifters. Business as usual.”
“And Sara?” I said in a casual voice. “Has she been in?”
“She came to pick up her check when Giselle wasn’t in, but other than that, she’s been out of the office,” Ryder said, and I could hear the loud banging of her fingers on the keyboard as she typed. She always typed as if she were attacking the computer. “She came in with the new boyfriend, too. I had no idea she liked ’em so scary.”
She must mean Ramsey. “The big guy? Blond hair? Kind of scowly?”
“That’s him,” Ryder agreed. “I swear I can’t picture the two of them together, because she’s so tiny and he’s gargantuan, but he was hovering over her like she was some delicate flower that needed to be shielded from the world. Which was kind of sweet to see.”
That made me uncomfortable. Did Ramsey have a thing for Sara? Or was he simply being diligent because he knew she was the wolf everyone was looking for and didn’t want her to get away?
I changed the topic back to office work. Ryder and Marie were happy to pick up the extra shifts and the additional money, but Ryder confessed she would be happy to have me back because she couldn’t seem to make the ledgers balance.
“I guess I could ask Giselle,” Ryder said uncertainly. “She’s been in the office all day.”
“Oh?” I said. That seemed unlike Giselle. Weekends weren’t really her thing. “What’s she up to?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “Some project with the werewolf packs? She’s pulled every single file that we have on the wolves and has been holed up with them.”
My entire body went cold.
Giselle wasn’t playing around—if I wasn’t going to date all the weirdos she had lined up for me, she was going to sell Sara out to the nearest pack. Any traces of happy contentment in me disappeared.
All I wanted was to crawl back into bed with Beau and kiss him until he pulled me close again, but I couldn’t. My only choices were getting out of town or holding up my end of Giselle’s deal.
I sighed heavily. “Ryder,
I need a favor. Did Beau Russell leave a home address on any of his files?” I waited as she banged on the keyboard.
“Nope, nothing. There’s an emergency contact number,” she said. “Want it?”
“No, that’s okay.”
As soon as I hung up, I flipped through Beau’s apps on his phone. Sure enough, there was GPS—which meant I now had a ticket out of Beau’s cabin.
In no time I was hiking through the woods, using the GPS to guide me. After a while I came out to the road and a small locked garage and mailbox. I pulled out a magazine and noted the address, then called Ryder back, asking her to pick me up.
It took another hour or two before she arrived, the time ticking by endlessly, with me positive that Beau would show up and drag me back to his cabin for more lovemaking. When Ryder’s red pickup pulled up, I was actually a little disappointed that it hadn’t happened.
We drove back to the office in silence. If she thought I looked like a mess wearing Beau’s shirt and workout pants, my hair in a snarled ponytail, she was too tactful to say anything. As soon as we got in the office, I went straight to Giselle’s office and shut the door behind me.
The siren gave me a tight smile, her sharp blue eyes scanning me with barely veiled anger. “Well, well, well. Look what the were-cat dragged in.”
“Hello, Giselle,” I said, calm on the outside.
She gave me a disdainful look. “It’s obvious that it’s too late for any sort of discussions.” She crossed her arms over her generous chest. “Do you know how much shit you’re in?”
“No,” I said, sitting down across from her. “But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
She stared at me as if I’d grown another head. “This lip of yours. I don’t like it.”
I’d always been submissive and quiet before, and my mouth twisted in a wry smile. For some reason, her superior attitude now irritated me instead of frightening me. Maybe being with Beau had bolstered my courage, or maybe there was so much other crap happening that I didn’t have time to worry over her. At any rate, it was a refreshing feeling.
“I’m here to tell you that I didn’t forget about our deal,” I said. “You’re not going to touch my sister.”
“Our deal?” She sneered the words. “Does your pathetic little human brain recall that the deal was for a human virgin? Then as soon as I turn around, you go into hiding and bang the first shifter who sticks his hand in your panties!”
I decided that I’d try to be the adult one about this. “It’s not what you think, Giselle.”
“No?” She leaned forward, eyes glittering with animosity. “Tell me what it is, then, because it seems to me that we had a bargain and you broke your end, which means I don’t have to pay attention to my end of the deal.”
“Someone broke into my house and tried to kill me.”
Giselle snorted.
“It’s true.” I detailed what had happened—the terrible stench of the creature, the attack, its strange appearance. As I spoke, Giselle’s mouth compressed into an even thinner line of disapproval.
“So how is it that you decided to go stay with Mr. Russell? I assume that is where you went.” She slid her fingers along her desk, absently flicking away a speck of dust.
He kidnapped me, I wanted to say. It was the truth and it’d get me off the hook, but at Beau’s expense. I didn’t want to do that to him, not after he’d been so good to me. So I fudged it a little. “He asked me to go—to spend his heat with him. I agreed.”
“I see,” she said in a surprisingly calm voice. “So you decided to have sex with him despite our agreement that would keep Sara safe?”
I swallowed. “That’s right.” When it didn’t sound convincing enough, I added, “I was blinded by passion.”
She gave me an odd look. “Well, you’re of no use to me now. You’re not a virgin. His bites are all over your neck.”
I clasped my hands over my neck to hide the incriminating marks. “No one has to know but us.”
She quirked an eyebrow at me.
“I can fake it. I don’t plan on sleeping with anyone else, so I’ll just smile and blush and we can keep telling them that I’m a virgin. Nothing has changed.”
She made a small noise in her throat and shrugged, clearly mollified but trying to hide it. “You’d do that? What about Mr. Russell?”
My heart was aching as I said, “If he wants to see me, he’ll have to go through the service.”
Giselle’s smile bloomed, a thing of beauty. “Good. I’ll line you up some dates, and we’ll jump right back into business.”
I gave her a wan smile and stood up to leave. “Sounds good.”
“Oh, and Bathsheba,” she said as I turned to go. “If you break another date with one of my clients, I’m selling your sister to the Anderson wolves. I hear they’re looking for another female for their pack. Eight wolves and only one female to relieve their urges. I told them I’d help out any way I could… . Understand?”
I swallowed hard. “I understand.”
I thought longingly of Beau all day. It made matters worse when I pulled into my driveway and saw a tall, leonine man with brown hair waiting in a sports car in the driveway. To my intense disappointment, it was another Russell were-cougar. Jeremiah had an easy smile and relaxed manner as he explained that Ramsey had insisted he keep watch over the house. I let him have the guest bedroom.
The evening passed agonizingly slowly and I stared at Beau’s phone. I could give it to Jeremiah and tell Beau I never wanted to see him again. But for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to hand over the phone. I went to sleep with it on my bedside nightstand.
It was no surprise that Beau invaded my dreams. They were wicked dreams, too. I dreamed that I lay in bed and he pulled the covers off my body, his hands warm as they skimmed the thin cloth of the nightgown. The long fabric had bunched up around my legs and he knelt between them, kissing my stomach through the fabric and murmuring soft words that I didn’t understand. In my dream, his eyes gleamed like a cat’s just before he ducked his head and I felt his mouth on the apex of my thighs, seeking that one perfect spot and scoring. My breath caught in a shudder and my thighs clenched as I stirred. Warm hands grasped my hips, holding me steady, and a hot tongue drew circles around the sensitive flesh.
I wasn’t dreaming.
My outrage changed to a moan of desire as he hit just the right spot and an orgasm began to rocket through me, my legs clenching and my body shattering as his tongue worked its magic.
“Sweet Bathsheba,” Beau said, and I felt his breath whisper against my flesh. “You taste wonderful. I thought about doing this to you all day.”
I sat up, my hips banging against his nose, and he groaned in pain. I pried his hands off my thighs and scurried to the far side of the bed. “Beau! What are you doing here?”
My traitorous heart gave wild thumps of joy, and my legs still quivered with pleasure.
He sat back on his haunches, rubbing his nose. “I should ask you the same question. Bathsheba, why did you leave? It’s not safe.”
I couldn’t explain it to him. I shook my head, tugging my nightgown down. I wanted to be mad at him, but more than that, I wanted to fling myself into his arms again and kiss him, press his hot skin against my own. “How … how did you get in here?”
Beau glanced toward the window. “I climbed the trellis to the window. You should make sure that you lock the windows from now on.”
How dare he sound mad at me? “One of your brothers is in the guest bedroom,” I said, my face coloring. Oh God, had I been moaning in my sleep? What had Jeremiah heard?
“So that’s how you got back to the city,” Beau said, spotting his phone and moving to the side of my bed. He grinned at me. “Clever thing.”
As he approached, I slid my legs over the side of the bed and went in the other direction. I needed to keep space between us. My legs still felt like Jell-O after his wake-up call, and my body ached for a repeat performance. “Beau, stay away from me.”
He stilled on the bed. “Bathsheba, tell me what’s wrong. Did I hurt you last night? Frighten you?”
“Nothing like that,” I said. “Last night was … fine.” Terrific. Mind blowing. Amazing. I couldn’t tell him that, though, or he’d never leave.
His frustration was evident in the tense set of his shoulders. “Then what is it? Something’s obviously bothering you; I just want to know what’s happened.” His eyes gleamed in the darkness, just like in my dream, and it started an involuntary pulsing in my blood. “It’s Giselle, isn’t it? Is she blackmailing you somehow?”
I kept silent. I couldn’t expose Sara’s secret.
“Giselle is a bad person, Bathsheba. She uses people.” He moved toward me and knelt beside the bed. “Let me help you.”
“You can’t help me, Beau,” I said, my voice quiet with pain. “Please go. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.”
“Bathsheba—”
“Please, Beau, just go. If I could be with anyone, it’d be you. But I can’t be with anyone, so please … just leave me alone.”
He reached out to touch my cheek, but when I turned away, he pulled back as if burned. His voice softened. “I’m going to find out what Giselle has over you, and I’m going to change it. I’ve claimed you. And when a member of the Alliance marks a woman as his, nothing had better stand in his way.”
He stalked to the far side of the room and slid out the open window. I heard his feet thud as he hit the pavement below, and then nothing.
The next day Giselle had me back at work, dressed in an outfit that she’d picked out: a pink turtleneck and long skirt. “Got to cover up the bite marks,” she said. “You don’t want anyone seeing that Beau has claimed you.” Her mouth thinned. “Repeatedly.”