Her frustration was short-lived as her lovers swapped places. Now it was Tom she took in her mouth, Lucas who pressed his way deep inside her. The lycan’s girth pushed out her walls with an overwhelmingly pleasurable motion. After a couple of moments, when all three had to adjust to their new positions, they settled into the perfect rhythm. Each jerk of Lucas’ hips sent powerful shivers of sensation through Angelique’s body, and she sucked on Tom’s cockhead as he caressed her breasts.
“Can’t take much more of this,” Lucas grunted, and she knew he was losing what little restraint he still retained.
She thought Tom would choose to come down her throat, but instead he pulled out just before he reached his peak. His thick cum spurted out to adorn her breasts, as though he were marking his territory. The little moan she gave in response must have triggered something in Lucas, who held her tight around the hips as he pumped his seed into her.
“Ah, oui,” she cried, feeling her inner muscles clutch hard at his shaft. She closed her eyes, and let a tidal wave of bliss engulf her.
Tom murmured soft words of gratitude in her ear, and she responded with endearments of her own. She loved him for having the strength to share her with his friend, and when they were alone, she would tell him just how proud of him she was.
Angelique pulled away from him, then rolled over to lie on her back, looking out of the window at the moon. Silently, she offered her thanks to it for rousing Lucas to the point where he’d been compelled to transform. If they’d all been in full control of their emotions tonight, the amazing ménage they’d just enjoyed would never have happened. Maybe there was something to be said for letting yourself run wild every now and again.
* * * *
“So, did that get everything out of your system?” Angelique murmured to Lucas as they watched the last of the exhibition-goers begin to leave the Music Room.
“I’m not sure.” He spoke low in her ear, placing a hand on her backside in a none-too-discreet caress. Even though he was respectably dressed in his tuxedo once more, the lecherous wolf in him still hovered close to the surface. “You know us lycans. Everything we do goes in cycles. Give it a month and I’ll get the urge to do it all over again.”
She looked over at Tom, who was being slapped on the back and congratulated by one of the departing guests. She had no doubt that Tom was her soulmate, the man she’d been searching for all these years. It didn’t mean that what she had with him couldn’t be flexible enough to accommodate someone else from time to time. Even if that someone were the last person she’d have dreamt that she could fall for.
“Very well,” she said. “Next time the moon is full, we’ll all go a little wild.”
She left him standing by the ‘Queen of the Night’, and went to steal Tom away from the group of well-wishers surrounding him. She’d been sharing her lover all night, and now she wanted some time alone with him before the sun came up. Lucas wouldn’t mind. After all, if the lycan was a beast of his word, it wouldn’t be long before he was ready to turn two into three once more. And when he did, she’d be waiting for him.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Night Voices
Elizabeth Coldwell
Excerpt
Chapter One
“Face it, Laurie, the show’s dying on its arse.”
Laurie Macari sighed, and set his coffee mug, which bore a likeness of his face and the Late Night with Laurie logo, down on the desk. When he’d been called into Don’s office for ‘a little chat’, he’d been expecting the usual backslapping and praise for his show, not this almost forensic dissection of where he was going wrong.
“Oh come on, Don. That’s a bit harsh.”
“The figures don’t lie. Your ratings are down forty percent since this time last year, and the focus groups are telling us that Late Night with Laurie sounds tired and dated. Okay, so you used to be the hottest thing on the airwaves, we all know that, but those days are long gone.”
If they’d reached the stage of delivering home truths, Laurie could quite easily point out that Don Bolton needed to lose a good twenty pounds and do something about the dandruff that flecked the shoulders of his Ramones T-shirt, but kept his mouth shut. As station manager of London Sound, the man’s main concern was doing whatever was best for the business, which didn’t necessarily take the feelings of his roster of presenters into account.
“Be honest,” Don continued. “When was the last time you broadcast something that everyone was talking about the next morning?”
Laurie racked his brain for a moment then a triumphant grin spread across his face. “When I had Aimee Caine from Sweet Lies in the studio. She played a couple of tracks from their new album, and I got her to talk about the rumors that she and her husband are into threesomes. The switchboard really lit up that night.”
“Yeah, that’s true. But that was five months ago. Five months! I never wanted to have to say this to you, Laurie, but your show has turned into something that just hangs around in the room, like wallpaper. You’re background noise for cocoa drinkers.” Don leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together behind his head, a contemplative look on his face. “Martina Swift goes on maternity leave in a month’s time.”
Martina’s show followed Laurie’s each night, occupying what was known at the station as the ‘graveyard slot’, from one until six in the morning. “If your ratings don’t improve, then I’ve got no choice but to move you into her time slot.”
“Oh come on, Don. You’ve got to be kidding…” Seeing no softening in his boss’s expression, Laurie asked, “So what are you expecting me to do to turn this round?”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and you need to do something that will make you stand out from the competition. I mean, take the late-night show on City FM. They have that guy who does the prank phone calls. I listened to him the other night. He rang up an Indian restaurant pretending to be David Beckham and tried to get them to deliver a takeaway to his place in LA. It was hilarious.”
Laurie sighed. “If you expect me to resort to juvenile behavior like that, you might as well ship me out to the graveyard slot now, because I’m not doing it.”
“Relax, I know that’s not your style. You’re always at your best when you’re covering provocative topics, something juicy your callers can really get their teeth into. And what’s more provocative than sex? So, starting from this Thursday, you’ll be sharing the final hour of your show every week with your new co-presenter, Dr Roxanne Rose, and she’ll be giving sex advice to your listeners.”
He gave a snorting laugh. “Really? She sounds more like a stripper than a doctor.”
“The woman’s a certified sex therapist, and she knows her stuff. Her self-help books have topped the bestseller charts and more than that, she’ll give you something to bounce off.”
“Don, if I needed to bounce off something, I’d treat myself to a trampoline. I’ve never had a co-presenter in all the years I’ve been on this station, and I don’t intend to start now.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but the contract with Roxanne is signed and sealed. Of course, the alternative is that she takes over that hour of the show entirely. I mean, it’d save the station a fair bit of money if you were doing an hour less every week…”
Did the guy want him to quit? Because if he kept on talking like this, that’s exactly what Laurie was tempted to do. Biting back his real feelings, he just murmured, “Okay, you win. But if there’s no change in the ratings then I don’t care whether that contract’s signed in blood. I go back to presenting solo.”
The station manager grunted his assent. It might have been a hollow victory, but it was satisfying to watch Don Bolton being forced to concede ground for once. Maybe London Sound didn’t want to lose Laurie after all, but that thought didn’t console him the way it should have. He couldn’t help feeling his position was still more tenuous than it had been when he’d walked into his boss’s office, and now he�
��d be relying on some vacuous pop psychologist to help turn his fortunes around.
* * * *
“Laurie, I’d like you to meet Dr Roxanne Rose.”
At the sound of Don’s voice, Laurie turned in his swivel chair and looked up from where he’d been jotting notes on the running order for the last hour of his show.
“Please, call me Roxy. Everyone does.”
Her voice had a strong American accent—one of the deep Southern states, at a guess—and a low, smoky tone. It made him think of dive bars where bands played down and dirty blues and the bourbon flowed into the small hours of the morning.
He took the hand she’d held out for him to shake, not wanting to seem ungracious, though he suspected his body language revealed his true feelings. “Nice to meet you—Roxy.”
Laurie couldn’t prevent his gaze lingering a little longer than it should have done on his new co-host. The twin braids into which she’d plaited her honey-blonde hair should have looked ridiculous on a woman in her early thirties, but instead they gave off a playful, wicked vibe. And when she shrugged off her denim jacket, the ribbed white vest she wore beneath made it all too clear she had no bra on. He could see the hard nubs of her nipples, perfectly contoured through the cotton fabric, and felt his cock swelling in his underwear as he imagined taking one of those sweet buds between his finger and thumb and pinching until her pink-glossed lips formed an ‘O’ of pure need.
If she were aware of the effect she had on him, she said nothing. Instead, she asked Don, “So, do you want to talk me through the set-up?”
Don shrugged, giving the impression he’d rather be anywhere than at the business end of the station’s output. “Oh, I think Laurie’s more than capable of doing that. I’ll leave you two to get to know each other a little better, shall I?”
“Past your bedtime, is it, Don?” Laurie asked with a grin.
“You know it—and I’ve got a meeting with the new sponsors for the Drive-time Show at nine tomorrow morning, so I need my beauty sleep if I’m going to be on top form.”
With that, he made his way out of the little room, leaving Laurie and Roxy alone.
Laurie gestured to the empty chair beside him at the console. He’d had many guests sitting in that chair, from world-famous film stars to spokespeople for the local council, but never had his studio seemed quite as cramped as it did as this moment. “Take a seat, please.”
“Sure.” Before she sat, Roxy placed a brown paper bag on the desk. “I got you coffee, by the way—mocha with whipped cream. Don said that’s the way you like it.”
“Thanks,” he replied, genuinely touched by the gesture. “Although my waistline doesn’t like it quite so much.”
She shot him an appraising look. “You seem in pretty good shape to me,” she drawled. “So, let’s get down to it, shall we?”
Again he felt a tightening in his groin in response. “Yeah—right.” The apparent double meaning in her words had him momentarily flustered. He’d arrived tonight determined not to warm to this interloper on his show and he had to stick to that course of action, however hard she made it for him. Damn…now he was doing it, too…
“Okay, so this time of night we don’t have a newsreader in the studio. We have the syndicated feed from Independent Radio News. They supply bulletins to all the commercial radio news stations across the UK. The news headlines are being broadcast now then we’ll have the sport round-up and tomorrow’s weather. I’ll welcome the listeners back to the final hour of the show, give you a brief introduction then it’s straight into the calls. I take it you’ve met Mike?” He gestured to the show’s producer, who sat on the other side of the studio glass.
When Roxy nodded, he continued, “Well, Mike screens the calls as they come in, does his best to weed out the obvious weirdoes—though I’m afraid the odd one’s likely to slip through, given the subject matter. He’ll also let us know when it’s time for an ad break. And that’s pretty much it.”
“Sounds like the show I used to have in college,” Roxy commented, “except I did my own producing then. So you don’t have to treat me like a total amateur, Laurie.”
He was about to protest that was the last thing he’d been doing when he caught sight of Mike gesturing to them both to put on their headphones.
He heard the voice of the newsreader on the syndicated feed saying, “…with temperatures tomorrow ranging from eight degrees in the north to twelve in the south,” then the jingle for his show.
Shooting Roxy a look that told her to be ready for whatever might happen, he launched into his patter. “And welcome back to Late Night with Laurie, bringing news, opinion and debate to all you night owls. I’d like to welcome in the midnight hour by introducing a new segment on the show—Sex Talk with Dr Roxy.” With a glance at his co-presenter, he said, “Would you like to tell the listeners a bit about yourself?”
“Why, sure. Hey, y’all”—and did that Southern drawl seem even more pronounced, even more seductive?—“this is Dr Roxy Rose, the author of Sizzling Sex Ed 101, and I’m here to answer all those queries you ever had about what happens in the bedroom—or the kitchen or out in the woods—but just didn’t know who to ask. And I bet that switchboard is just lighting up already, so who do you have for me, Mike?”
For the next hour, Laurie barely said a word. He sat and watched, with grudging admiration, as Roxy expertly fielded call after call. It was all pretty straightforward stuff—the man who’d been married for seven years and wanted his wife to be more adventurous in bed, followed by the woman convinced her partner was cheating on her—but Roxy handled every problem with sensitivity and humor. Her advice was never patronizing, her concern always genuine. If she’d taken over anyone’s show but his, Laurie would have been applauding her performance.
But her obvious ability wasn’t what really nagged at him. As she talked, he watched her lips and pictured them wrapped round his cock as she knelt at his feet. She would gaze up at him with a look that mixed lust and total submissiveness as she swallowed him down all the way to the root. He could almost feel the way she would play her tongue over the hot, unsheathed head, licking up the drops of juice that formed there. And she would keep on licking and sucking, even as his balls released their load and thick, white cum spurted down her throat.
Where, he wondered, had that thought come from? He didn’t consider himself the Dominant type, yet his mind had weaved a scenario in which he took control and this woman willingly obeyed his every command. Had he pictured her with her mouth full of his dick because that way she wouldn’t be able to speak? That seemed mean. After all, it had become obvious within moments of her starting to chat to the callers that her voice was her finest asset. Soft, sultry, full of suggestion…
“And I know it’s going to be difficult, but if you can have that conversation, Natalie, I’m sure you’ll find that your husband will really start to open up and tell you all those things he’s been holding back. Thanks so much for calling.”
His realization that Roxy had stopped speaking, and that if he didn’t say something there would be dead air, brought Laurie back to the present. He glanced at the clock, and saw the hands stood at a couple of minutes to one. The lights were on in the other studio, the heavily pregnant Martina Swift getting ready for the handover from his show to hers.
“And it looks like that’s all we have time for tonight,” he said. “I’d like to thank Dr Roxy for being my guest. She’ll be back with more advice next week, and I’ll see you all tomorrow. Coming up after the news, Martina Swift will be providing talking points for all you night owls. And what’s on the show tonight, Martina?”
“Thanks, Laurie, we’ll be discussing the Mayor’s proposals to limit foreign investors snapping up properties in new-build developments across the capital, and after a woman is reunited with the Stradivarius violin she left behind on The Tube, I’d like to know the most unusual thing you’ve lost on public transport…?”
Laurie switched off his microphone, and the
‘on-air’ light went off in the studio.
“Well, I think that went okay, don’t you?” Roxy took off her headphones and set them down on the desk.
“Yeah, not bad for your first time,” Laurie replied, not wanting to admit how dazzling her performance had been. Don would have caught at least part of the broadcast on his way home. He couldn’t have failed to be aware of Roxy’s obvious star quality, and how the last hour of the show had as good as functioned without Laurie.
Mike popped his head round the studio door. “Great show, guys. Could have taken another hour’s worth of calls, but I’ve been telling the people who’ve been hanging on to ring back next week and I’ll make sure they go to the front of the queue.”
Laurie’s heart sank. He couldn’t admit that part of him had wanted Roxy to fail, to fall on that cute little arse of hers, in the hope that Don would realize he’d made a mistake. But there was no denying the therapist knew how to create a real rapport with the callers, to draw them in and get them to talk honestly about their problems.
He pulled his rucksack out from under the desk, and slung it over his shoulder. “Okay, well, I’ll be off. See you tomorrow, Mike.”
Laurie barely acknowledged Roxy as he made to leave the studio. It wasn’t like him to be so brusque, but her presence unsettled him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a strong, instant attraction to someone, and he hoped she hadn’t noticed it. The last thing he needed was to find himself lusting after the woman who could make or break his show.
His attempt to give her the brush-off failed. She grabbed her own bag and followed him out of the studio.
“Is a cab coming to collect you, too?” she asked when they reached the reception area.
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