Marked By Fire

by Meg Ripley

  “Are you going to be back later today?” Will asked Noah, and he shrugged noncommittally in response.

  The exchange struck Ava as odd; generally, the employer dictated an employee's hours, whereas Will acted more like Noah was doing him a favor showing up to work. But, what did she know about the ranch industry?

  “Ready?” Noah asked, turning to take in Ava's new attire. It didn't provide quite the same easy access as the towel, but it was one hell of a sexy dress. His appreciative gaze told Ava he was OK with the trade-off for now. She followed Noah out of the cabin, walking up to the house and around to the long front drive. Stopping at the passenger side of a ridiculously expensive-looking vehicle, he opened the door for her, motioning for Ava to slide in. She had no idea wranglers made such a good living.

  “So, where are we going?” she asked as he slid behind the wheel.

  “You'll see,” he told her, the same smile on his face.

  He didn't keep her wondering for long. Less than five minutes later, he pulled up the iron front gates of a property down the road, buzzing at the gate before it opened for him seconds later. Cruising up the long front drive, Ava's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the massive house sitting at the top. It had to be at least three or four times the size of Will's ranch house. Stopping, he came around to the passenger side, opening the door and waiting for Ava as she slowly exited the vehicle. Stunned, she couldn't figure out why he'd taken her here. Did he work for another rancher? Is that why he brought her here? Strange given that she'd been led to believe he was planning on picking up where they'd left off. A morning sex session at work?

  He led her up the grand front staircase which stopped at an enormous set of double doors. The door opened before they had reached the top step, an old man greeting them there.

  “Good morning, sir. Back already?” he asked good-naturedly.

  “Yes I am. Ava, this is Michael,” he motioned toward the old man. “Michael, this is Miss Ava Mitchell.”

  Ava nodded politely, but then turned a quizzical gaze to Noah. He just smiled devilishly.

  “I'll be home for lunch today, with a guest. If you could let Margaret know, I'd appreciate it,” he spoke to Michael. The man nodded and then he was off, through the grand, open living area to a hallway at the far left end of the house.

  Noah started forward, ascending the tall, spiral staircase that lead to the second floor. Still perplexed, looking around in awe, Ava followed. He turned to the right as they reached the top and continued down the hall to the last door on the right. Opening the door to reveal a grand bedroom inside, Ava stopped mid-step.

  “This is your house,” she stated quietly. That's why Noah had a ridiculously expensive-looking car. That's why the old man had opened the door for them, greeting Noah. She had no idea how a wrangler—even one as good as Noah—could afford a house so large it looked as if it had swallowed several others. But it was definitely his house. She was certain.

  “Yes, this is my house, Ava,” Noah confirmed, his eyes intent on hers as if he were looking for something there.

  She felt a bit uncomfortable, and more than a little out of place. She'd never believe that money made a person worth anything more than someone without—particularly having been the one without for her entire life—but still she somehow felt a little out of her league here, enough so that she took a step back, hovering at the room's entrance.

  Noah's gaze changed right then, as if he'd found the answer to whatever he'd been looking for, and suddenly there was nothing but molten, hot fire blazing in his eyes. Grabbing her hand, he pulled Ava into the room, closing the door behind them. All thoughts of money and mansions fled as he backed her up against the door, his mouth covering hers as it had before. After days of thwarted arousal, this time, she realized there would be no interruptions, and a wild abandonment surged through her.

  Ava's hands returned to where they had been not long ago, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her eyes fixed on his chest as the fabric parted to reveal inch after inch of the muscular breadth of him. Unable to resist the temptation, she leaned forward, the tip of her tongue tasting his tanned skin as she kissed her way from his neck, down solid pecs and his, immaculately chiseled, washboard abs. She paused briefly when she reached the waist of his jeans, then her lips continued, from one hip to the other, just above the denim fabric that hindered her descent. Noah's hands twined in her silken, blonde hair, and he groaned as she returned to his center, unzipping his fly, hooking her fingers in the waist of his jeans and continuing to kiss every inch of skin she exposed. It was Ava's turn to moan as his cock sprang free, her mouth and lips growing moist instantly at the long, hard length of him. As she worked her way from his neck to where she was now, kneeling in front of him, she'd intended to tease him; to drive him wild with anticipation, but she couldn't resist. Opening her mouth wide, she sheathed him between her lips, taking in every inch of him she could. She moved slowly, savoring his scent, the taste of him on her tongue, the way he felt against her lips. After a long while, her pace increased, but not more than a few seconds later, Noah had pulled her to her feet, his fingers moving to the zipper at the side of her dress.

  “My turn,” he whispered, and Ava moaned, the blazing heat in his eyes and his devilish grin nearly sending her over the edge.

  As he lowered her zipper, Ava's dress fell to the floor. She hadn't bothered putting anything on under her dress and so in an instant, she was completely naked, her soft curves, her ample breasts and smooth pussy bare before him. Gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep his arousal in check, he had her on the bed in one swift movement, laying her back as he spread her legs. He leaned forward from the edge of the bed, his lips making contact with the inside of one of her thighs, kissing his way up slowly until he reached the apex.

  Ava held her breath, waiting for him to continue upward, her body writhing to spur him on. But instead, Noah's lips started back down the inside of her other thigh, and she moaned in frustration. He smiled evilly, knowing he was driving her wild and continued his descent before working his way back up again. Hovering no more than an inch away from her pussy, Noah's fingers touched her instead, sliding along her wet slit before parting her lips, spreading her wide open. It was the most erotic thing she'd ever felt; to be so completely exposed to someone she barely knew. He leaned in further then, his tongue darting out to lick along her parted lips. Ava was so aroused that her hips nearly bucked off the bed in response to his sensual touch, and she fought against the urge to scream as he moved to her clit, licking gently at first before sucking her into his mouth. The strange pressure was exquisite, and already she could feel her orgasm building quickly. He sucked harder and she moaned loud, her hands clawing at the downy soft blankets on the bed, and as she felt his finger slip into her open pussy, her back arched off the bed as her orgasm shuddered through her body.

  He released her then, his finger leaving her pussy and she watched as he sucked it into his mouth before going straight to the source, plunging his tongue deep inside her, darting in and out. Although the aftershocks of her last orgasm had yet to subside, she could already feel her body stirring again. She moaned softly as his pace increased but whimpered a moment later as his tongue left her warmth. Ava wouldn't feel bereft long, as two fingers replaced his tongue, plunging in and out fast. And then something changed. Noah bent his fingers as he continued to thrust, stimulating the tiny, most sensitive pleasure zone in her body. Instantly, an exquisite pressure began to build deep inside her, and before long she was thrashing wildly beneath him, her erotic screams of ecstasy filling the room as she started to cum, an orgasm unlike any other soaking her pussy and thighs.

  Noah was on top of her then; he leaned down to kiss her as she felt his cock pressed against her wet entrance. But rather than plunge inside, he rolled then, pulling her with him to sit astride him. All of a sudden, she felt wickedly powerful, hovering above his massive cock, his expression consumed with desire as his gaze took in every
inch of her. Her hands moved to cup her breasts, leaning forward so that she was only inches from his face as he watched intently. Sitting up straight, she lowered herself down then, ever so slowly, the tip of his cock sliding into her wet slit. Inch by inch, she continued until she'd taken every inch of him inside her, stilling for a moment to adjust to his enormous girth. Finally, she started to move, slowly at first, desperately trying to maintain the tenuous hold on her arousal, pacing herself to draw out the incredible experience as long as she could. But as Noah leaned up, flexing his flawless abs as he squeezed her tits, sucking a nipple in his mouth, her restraint snapped. Ava's pace increased, riding him faster; her fingers digging into his shoulders as he released her nipple, leaning up further to reach her lips. She kissed him back with a wild fervor as she rode him harder, their moans twining together as Noah's tongue delved into her mouth. Ava started to cum, the tremors of her orgasm coursing through her body, and as her pussy spasmed around his cock, Noah toppled over the edge, too, cumming hard as he thrust deep inside her one last time.

  His arms wrapped around her, Ava's head resting on his shoulder, they remained in that position, breathless as the aftershocks of their orgasms slowly subsided. Finally, Noah fell back against the bed, bringing Ava with him as he slipped from her warmth. She sighed, immediately feeling empty. As exhausted as her body was, she wasn't ready for this to be over.

  “What would you say to lunch in bed?” Noah whispered against her ear a moment later. “A little sustenance to keep our energy up?”

  “Apparently, Noah isn't in any hurry for this to be over either,” she thought to herself with a smile, her body already humming with anticipation. She'd have to return to the ranch at some point; Christie would begin to worry eventually otherwise, but Ava was quite certain that the rest of her vacation was going to be a whole lot more interesting than she could ever have imagined.

  THE END

  Sneak Peek of Playing With Fire: Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society, Book 1 By Meg Ripley

  I've always done my best to work hard and stand apart from my father's shadow, but it seemed like he was setting me up to fail. When he assigned me a new client, Adventure Isle—a run-down amusement park in the middle of nowhere—I knew I'd have to find the investor of a lifetime to succeed.

  I was looking for a man with more money than sense. What I found was a man who had no money at all, but he did have a beautiful daughter, Shayne. A beautiful, ball-busting daughter that I wanted from the second I laid eyes on her.

  She controls his money, but she controlled my heart from just about the moment we met. She called herself Mary and I never had a chance.

  But just when I find myself in her bed, exactly where I want to be, she gets the call. Her father is dead; killed by a dragon.

  And things are about to get a whole lot more complicated when the woman of my dreams learns that I'm a dragon, too.

  CHAPTER ONE

  With a long sigh, Jason Cross dropped into the brown leather chair at the furthest end of the lounge, loosening his tie with one hand and tossing a folder aside with the other. Before the next breath, a waitress appeared at his side with a drink in hand.

  "Thank you, Mia." He gulped it down with a single swallow and signaled his need for another.

  Mia’s sharp eyes flickered over his strained face and she nodded, sauntering back to the bar at the same deliberate pace she always used. She did not work for tips and she couldn’t be fired, so she moved through life at her own speed. But she knew everybody’s drink, knew when to change it up, and knew when to lend a sympathetic ear.

  "Hard day?"

  Vincent Ryder helped himself to the seat across from Jason. Artist, speculator, investor, inventor, and general man about town, Vincent was a renaissance man who didn’t wait, or ask for, invitations. The constant smirk on his lips gave him an air of arrogance, but Jason wouldn’t call Vincent an arrogant man. He always backed up his big talk and he was a good man to have in your corner, so Jason was one of the few who didn’t find his smirk intolerable.

  "Yeah, you could say that," Jason said.

  Vincent reached for the discarded folder. "You have a new project." It wasn’t a question and he didn’t wait for Jason to invite him to have a look. He flipped through the first few pages, went back to the beginning, read them again, and then blinked at Jason.

  "Exactly," Jason said.

  "Why am I looking at a Ferris wheel and three children eating cotton candy?" He tilted his head. "This photo is at least twenty years old. Is that Ferris wheel still standing?"

  "It’s twenty-five years old, and apparently, yes, it is."

  Vincent frowned. "You couldn’t pay me to get on a Ferris wheel that old."

  "Of course not. No one wants to ride anything that old. Keep looking. It gets better."

  Vincent returned his attention to the folder, his frown becoming so deep it was almost comical as he studied the accompanying glossy photos. "Has your father gone crazy? This place should have been closed a decade ago."

  At least a decade ago. Most of the rides were dilapidated; most of the booths had been boarded up. The remaining booths held "treasures" from a previous generation—knock-off toys and cheap stuffed animals that were losing the war with time. Frankly, the place looked more like a set from a horror movie about a theme park than a place anyone would want to take their family to.

  "I don’t know. Maybe. This is apparently a completely legitimate account. What he was thinking when he took on the client, I can’t tell you."

  "Maybe it’s some sort of hazing ritual?"

  "After over a year in the company? It feels more like he’s setting me up for failure."

  "Why would Damian want you to fail?"

  The question brought him up short. Growing up in his family, the choice to become an investment banker really wasn't a choice at all. His great-grandfather had started the firm and the males of every generation to follow had just been funneled directly into the company. His cousins and brother took positions with perfunctory titles and almost no actual obligations, but generous compensation packages.

  Jason chose a different route. Instead of going directly to his father after graduation, he took a job at a rival, albeit much smaller, firm. He took his mother’s maiden name and found a tiny apartment on the West Side, determined to rise through the ranks on his own. He imagined himself building an empire to rival his father’s and then his old man would finally be forced to respect him—to regard him as an equal.

  Reality was a cold slap in the face six months later when his father’s firm bought his employer. The message was clear and rather than pushing back, Jason settled into his new job, did his work, and kept his head down.

  His hard work paid off, and three years after his forced employment with the firm, he was on the cusp of a huge promotion—one he was certain he earned. The only person who knew his true identity was his father, and his father’s input was not necessary for this next step. The only thing that could thwart his aspirations was a giant, Ferris-wheel shaped blot on his record. A failure at this pivotal time could change the committee’s mind, delaying the promotion, or worse, tabling it indefinitely.

  "Maybe he doesn’t want me to get the promotion. Maybe he’s still mad I snubbed him five years ago. Maybe he wants to teach me a lesson."

  "What lesson is that?"

  Jason accepted the second shot of whiskey from Mia and gulped it down, tingling from his nose to his toes. "That I’ll never be able to escape his hold. I’ll work where he wants me to work and I’ll do it on his terms at his pace and there’s not a damned thing I can do about it."

  Vincent swirled his drink over his ice cubes and took a long swallow. "Maybe you should teach him a lesson."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If this is about controlling you, show the old man that it’s going to take a lot more than this, frankly transparent, attempt at professional sabotage."

  Vincent flipped through the images and financial statements agai
n, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Mia appeared at Jason's side again, this time presenting him with a slim, black folder.

  "What? No more whiskey?"

  "You need to keep your wits about you," she said before returning to the shadows behind the bar.

  Jason looked down at the folder, his fingers gliding over the embossed image of a medieval dragon, powerful and bulky, its wings like leather-encased wrought iron cages. Depictions of dragons from other cultures always amazed him with their willowy, serpentine bodies and squared, almost dog-like heads. There were rumors that those dragons still existed, but if so, they were deep in hiding, as encased in secrecy as Jason himself.

  Jason opened the folder and looked at the paper inside. He scoffed and pulled it out of the folder, tossing it onto the table in front of him.

  "The old man?" Vincent asked.

  "Who else?" Jason craved another drink but Mia was right. He did need to keep his wits about him. “I just got away from him two hours ago, and he can't even wait until Monday to rub this in my face."

  "Maybe he’ll tell you this was just a joke and give you the real file."

  "Maybe." Jason stood and reached for the folder. "I don't know, though. He might have a pretty twisted sense of humor, but he's also the consummate businessman."

  "He’s also a bit of a jackass."

  "You said it, not me." Jason tucked the folder under his arm and marched to the black velvet curtain, nodding at the stern men who flanked it. Others would have had to show special identification or a written invitation, but for Jason, they pulled the braided gold ropes that parted the curtain without a word.