by Ana Calin
I look down at myself again. I have a push-up bra under the spandex—that can be easily ripped off my body, by the way, it’s meant to be easily removed—and my tits seem two huge swells. My stomach looks flat in comparison, my hips wide, and my thighs, well, lets say there’s plenty to grab there, too. The high heels help make my legs seem longer.
“He enjoyed it quite a lot once I was naked.” I’m tipsy enough to go there. “Actually, to tell you the truth, I’m the main reason the relationship failed. I never admitted it to anyone, not even myself, but after five years Sullivan became tedious in bed, and I avoided having sex with him. I loved him, but I was never in the mood, you know.”
“I read somewhere that the woman loses interest in sex if she stops liking the man as a person,” Janine puts in, taking a finger to her mouth as she tries to remember. “Where did I read that?”
“The woman has to always admire the man,” Princess ads. “If she stops looking up to him, then she won’t get wet for him anymore.”
“I don’t know if there actually is a good explanation for this,” I muse. “I mean, it’s not like Sullivan did a whole lot wrong. He was homey and cuddly, and we often had satisfying talks. But somehow... Damn, I still can’t put my finger on what it was, but something was missing for me.”
“Let’s be honest, Arianna,” Janine says. “Sexual attraction was never a big player in your relationship, not on your side, at least. You were never crazy about Sullivan, you got talked into the relationship, because the Council kept pressing for it.”
“You were never crazy about anyone, if I think about it,” Princess adds. “Oh, wait, there was that guy in Paris, wasn’t there?”
I sigh, smiling as I remember. “Yes, Cicero. We took A Course in Wayward Art together.”
“Strange name.” Janine wrinkles her nose.
“Strange man. We barely spoke to each other, but I had a feeling he liked me, too.”
“Ah, the classic,” Princess muses. “Boy and girl are so awkward around each other that they completely blow it.”
An idea comes to me, and I cock my head at Princess. “I’ve always wondered, how come Sullivan never came on to you, Princess? It’s been a year since he and I broke up, I would imagine he’s over whatever scruples he might have.”
Princess snorts. “First of all because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. I may be his assistant, but my dad finances his campaigns, and he doesn’t want to upset the big bad wolf. Plus, he’s still very much into you. He still keeps a picture of you on his desk.”
“Yeah, I heard. But don’t let that fool you, he only keeps it so he can look respectable when VIPs visit. It looks good to be in a relationship with the Arts and French teacher, daughter of the Parker tycoon. But in truth he likes banging women like Christie.”
“Truth is,” Princess says in a philosophical voice, “most men like banging women like Christie. They just can’t resist them, their cocks stiffen around sluts. Which is exactly why you’re looking like one now.”
“I wouldn’t use the word slut to describe Christie,” I protest. “I mean, why does everybody see her as guilty? It was Sullivan who came on to her.”
“And I wouldn’t use that word to describe you, milady, no matter what you’re wearing,” a deep male voice comes from somewhere close, too close. All three of us sit up, my hand clenching around the stem of my glass.
Drago Wolf stands in the middle of our lounge in a leather jacket and ripped jeans. Two words pop in my mind—magnificent beast.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“That we will, milady.”
Fire shoots to my cheeks, but my jaw is too tight for me to say anything. He approaches and takes my free hand that is stiff on my knee. He kisses it, his hard lips hot on my skin. Damn it, Janine was right, the man is just, I don’t know, he oozes sex appeal. I could see it in the pictures, but face-to-face, it’s even more.
“You’re Arianna, my date for the night, yes? The French and Arts teacher.” He smirks, and my blood goes wild beneath my skin.
“I, yes.” I clear my throat. “And you are—” Drop dead gorgeous. “Mr. Wolf, yes?”
“Enchanter.”
“H-how long have you been standing there?” Janine inquires. I can tell she’s struggling to regain composure, but she doesn’t quite manage to. Princess stares, speechless, frozen with her glass poised at her mouth.
“A while,” Drago replies as he squares his shoulders, his pectorals pushing through the black shirt between the sides of his leather jacket. His face is rugged, clearly the face of a man created for two things—sex and violence. He seems a god in a room with three drooling mortal women, and I don’t like it one bit. I instinctively square my shoulders.
“How come we didn’t hear you walk in?” Janine demands.
“It was actually alarmingly easy to sneak up on you girls,” Drago says as he strides over to the unmanned bar. “You should probably take more precautionary measures, Miss Kovesi.”
Janine stands up, whisks her skirt, and walks to him, probably trying to look intimidating in her beige two-piece suit that cost a fortune, shiny white-blonde bob making a perfect frame around her face, glass in her hand. But she stumbles over her own feet, and catches herself against the bar.
I want to giggle, and I know Princess does too, but we manage to control ourselves.
“Cocktails, I see,” Drago says. It surprises me that he’s not trying to sound as seductive to Janine as he did to me. For this kind of man, all women are potential clients, right? “Sex on the Beach, I suspect?” He eyes the remains of Janine’s drink.
She nods. Awkward moments follow, with only the sound of Drago working bottles and bar props behind the mahogany counter. Jeez, he’s so out of place, a leather-studded stallion that belongs on a mean bike, behind a bar, at the service of needy women. Defiance takes up more room in my chest.
Drago hands Janine a cocktail, and walks over with two more. Princess takes hers muttering a ‘thank you’ with trembling lips, while I, well, I freeze after I take mine, watching him take a seat on a lounge stool right in front of me.
I swallow as he takes off his leather jacket, throws it on the sofa, and leans back, relaxing. Ripped jeans, huge muscular thighs, with patches of bronze skin visible through the rips. My gaze slides up his chest, the black T-shirt wrapping hard muscle. I remember the pictures of him naked in a cage, the tattoos stretching over his arms.
I clear my throat as my eyes rest on his face. He’s sexy as a devil, and he damn well knows it. By the way he looks back at me, his eyes smoldering, the smirk still on his face, tells me that he’s comfortable with the eye-contact. Which can only mean my presence isn’t doing to him what his is doing to me.
“Miss Parker,” he says. “Your girlfriends speak highly of you. They say you’ve been raised and educated aristocratic.”
Everything inside me screams I should teach this smug wet dream a lesson. This aristocratic, needy woman isn’t going to fall at his feet. I will resist him, no matter what it takes.
CHAPTER II
Drago
Wow, this woman is downright beautiful. I can’t tear my eyes away from her, and I’m even tempted to drop the order.
I don’t do women that appeal to me, not that any have, not like this one. She rattles me, and I’m not sure I can stay as professional as I should. Arianna Parker, or Miss Aristocrat, as her friends call her, has the voluptuous curves of a sex goddess. She’s clearly a full-blown beauty with her rich dark hair and glowing powder blue eyes, but it’s also clear she’s completely oblivious to that fact.
I can tell she’s not used to the black eyeliner and the hot red lipstick that she’s wearing now. Her lips aren’t full, as traditional beauty standards dictate, on the contrary. She has a small mouth, but something about her entire face makes her heavily sensual. It’s a special kind of sensuality that I haven’t seen before. I catch myself wishing I could wipe off the make-up, and see who she is underneath.
She loo
ks to her friends, and my heart stirs in my chest. I have enough experience to read when a client has second thoughts, and for some reason I don’t want her to back out.
Arianna Parker raises her chin, as if making an important decision, and turns her face back to me. Her hand is rigid on the stem of her glass.
“As my friends surely informed you, Mr. Wolf, today is my thirtieth birthday, and the girls wanted to do something special for me. But this—” She motions to me, “I’m not sure I want to go through with it.”
She stands up, giving me a full view of her delicious body in spandex. My cock twitches. How is it even a possible, that someone hires a gigolo for a woman like her? Filthy rich men would give a yacht and a villa for a few nights with her.
“I suggest we drop this, Mr. Wolf, but rest assured it won’t have any negative impact on your business. One of my friends may enjoy your services in my place but, if not, I will gladly take care of your bill, even without the services rendered.”
She heads for the exit, which awakens a long forgotten feeling in me—anxiety. I catch her hand, and she stills. Those powder blue eyes shoot back at me, her pupils contracting, and her scent tells me she’s intimidated. It also tells me she’d be one hell of a fuck. My cock strains against my zipper.
“You have a nicely polished manner of speaking, Miss Parker. Your aristocratic education definitely shows.” I stand up, keeping a grip on her small wrist. It feels fragile in my hand, and that makes me even harder. “I will gladly keep calling you Miss Parker, if that’s what you wish, but please drop Mr. Wolf. Call me Drago.”
“We won’t have to call each other anything, because I’m leaving, and we’ll never see each other again.”
“All right but, before you leave, consider this for a moment: one night with me at your disposal, as your slave, doing your bidding. Picture it. It would be our secret, something we both take to the grave. You have nothing to lose, Miss Parker.” Though I’d very much enjoy it if she were the one doing my bidding. This woman on her knees in her spandex outfit, sucking my cock, the red lipstick smudged around her mouth....
She blinks at me, her lips parting. She doesn’t know what to say, and the stress hormones she releases tell me she feels trapped. My grip tightens on her wrist.
“The young lady who booked me, she said that she prepared a special room for us tonight.”
“Mr. Wolf, please,” she says, her voice trembling. She’s about to refuse, and I can’t resist doing something I haven’t done in many, many years—influence her mood.
“Nothing can happen between us unless you want it to, Miss Parker. You’re the boss here, don’t forget that. We could just talk, about men if you like, I could teach you seduction techniques to get any guy you want. How about that, huh? What have you got to lose?”
I want to be alone with this woman, I want the chance to make her wet, and I’ll say and do anything for that. By all devils, this has never happened to me before.
The smoldering darkness in my eyes intensifies, influencing her mood. Werewolves’ psychological manipulation powers may not be as glamorous as vampires’, because people retain control of their actions, and are hyperaware of everything that’s happening, but they’re inexplicably relaxed. I’m rusty at using these powers, and it might be too much, but I can’t risk her putting an end to this night before it’s even begun.
Yet by the time we get to the room I feel like an asshole. She followed me here with an expression on her face that shows clearly she’s uncomfortable. As soon as the door falls shut behind us, I turn to look her full in the face.
“Nobody besides your two friends know you’re here, right?”
“No. How about you? Do you have peers or friends who know where you are tonight?” She’s clearly worried about how safe her secret is with me.
“I can’t share much with other people about my line of work, can I?”
I’m sure behind all that make-up Arianna’s cheeks are burning red. I eye her up and down. By all devils, she has an amazing body, black spandex hugging big tits and wide hips, zippers at the level of her chest and right between her legs.
My cock pushes hard against my fly, demanding to take her. She’ll look deliciously dirty spread-eagled on the bed, those zippers widely open. My heart beats faster—I have to have her, no matter the cost.
“Why don’t you relax, make yourself comfortable,” I invite in an alluring voice. But Arianna doesn’t move.
“Come, sit on the bed,” I insist. “Remember, nothing can happen against your will, you’re the boss.”
Hesitantly, she walks over to the rustic king size bed, the centerpiece of this overall rustic room. This is indeed a quaint, cozy hotel in the mountains, romantic, actually.
“What will you have?” I open the minibar that’s placed just across the room from the bed, displaying its contents for Arianna to choose. She rubs her hands between her knees, biting her lip before she speaks.
“Vodka lemon.”
I pop the can open, pour the drink into a crystal tumbler, and stride over. I hand it to her, then make myself comfortable in a love chair from where I can admire her at length. I take a swig of my drink, my eyes never leaving her.
“How long has it been, since you’ve last been with a man?” I inquire, wiping my lips with my fingers. She watches me do it, but looks away fast.
“So this is what we’re going to talk about?”
“Sorry to start off with such an intimate question, but I promised seduction secrets, and for that I need some of your background. Relax, you’re safe with me.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that, the way you look at me, it’s like you’re stripping me naked with your eyes.”
“Yes, I can’t help it, you’re a very attractive woman. But I won’t make a move on you without your explicit permission, I promise.” I keep staring at her, unable to look away. “But I admit I do hope you’ll change your mind and make use of your friends’ gift.”
She sighs, shaking her head. “Listen, I haven’t done anything like this before, okay? And I can’t go through with it now.”
She looks down at herself in spandex with her face full of regret. It’s like a punch in the gut—she really doesn’t want me.
“I’m sorry, Drago, I thought I could, but I can’t,” she says softly. “Really, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
My jaw tightens, ticking. “Is there an ex that you still cling to? I’m asking because I’ve had clients crippled by some misplaced feeling of faithfulness before and, trust me, I can make it go away.”
“This is about me, not him.”
“So there is a him.”
Arianna sips her vodka lemon, prolonging the silence. I can’t bear it.
“How long has it been since you broke up?”
She looks down at her tumbler, thinking. But I can tell the alcohol is already working on her, and that she must have had a lot before this, too.
“Over a year,” she says quietly.
And she’s still thinking of him. Damn it. I could throw her on the bed, unzip that spandex costume between her legs, and fuck her until he’s completely out of her system. Then I’d take in the sight of her there on the bed, spread-eagled, her pussy still dripping—Fuck, stop it. My cock is so hard it hurts.
“I think it’s been two, actually,” she continues. “I used to date the mayor of Darkwood Falls, you know. For five years. But then....”
“Then what?” I nudge softly.
“Well, you know, the usual. The sex dwindled, the heart started wanting something else.”
“Your heart or his?”
“We both wanted something new, to be honest. Only that he acted on it, while I didn’t.” She looks up, those powder blue irises meeting mine. With the help of the vodka and my influence, her entire body softens.
“I’m a private Art and French tutor in Darkwood Falls, I’m supposed to be an example of piety, grace and morality, a role model. I just can’t go around sleeping with whomeve
r I want, when I want to.”
I lean in to her, searching her eyes with cunning. “With more reason then. Why reject me? We could have a night of unbridled passion together, and no one would ever find out. You can’t live your entire life denying your needs and desires. That will throw you into a dark pit from which it’s not easy to come out.”
She stares into my eyes, and I can tell she’s considering it. I take the chance, reaching out and touching her cheek with the back of my finger.
“No one will ever know,” I whisper, looking deep into her eyes, filling them with the darkness in mine. My powers infiltrate her mood deeply. I want this woman to feel comfortable enough that she gives in to her desire for me.
I may have no influence on what Arianna Parker thinks or decides to do, but I can make her feel at home, while retaining the blood-pumping excitement. I know she’d love to fuck me. I can smell the shifts in her chemistry, the hormones she releases.
“If I were to do this,” she says, her breath tingling my lips. “I would like to know more about you. Who is the man I’d welcome inside my body?”
Welcome me inside her body....
“What would you like to know?”
She gives a small laugh that reveals dimples in her cheeks. God, I’m melting on the inside. “Things that would make me comfortable enough to sleep with you on a first date—not that this is a date, but it’s easier for me if I look at it this way.”
“A date. All right. So we imagine we’re on our first one.” Needing to feel her even closer, I sit by her side on the edge of the bed, and Arianna cringes.
“Am I too close?”
“It’s not what you would normally do on a first date, is it? Sit on the bed with the girl.”
“Let’s look at it differently. What would a perfect first date look like to you?”
She looks to the window, thinking. She can’t see the fabulous mountain landscape because it’s pitch dark outside, with nothing to light up the night except this small hotel deep in the woods.
“I think this place is pretty perfect,” she says quietly. Her scent mixed with the scent of spandex and perfumed make-up permeates my senses, stirring up my emotions. “This building wasn’t always a hotel, you know, when I was a kid it was only an abandoned cabin in the woods. Janine’s parents built this hotel around it, and I used to dream that Prince Charming would take me here one day.” She snorts. “Back when I still believed in Prince Charming.”