by Deanna Lee
Stefan and Xandi would be back later. They’d followed the sheriff into town to give more of a statement after one of his deputies had taken Keisha and Anton’s. Now, alone here with Anton, Keisha felt the full impact of the night’s attack.
“Are you sure you don’t want to see the doctor?” Anton’s fingers caught her gently under the chin and lifted, forced her to face him. “It’s not all that deep, but it could leave a scar.”
“Then it leaves a scar. I’ll be fine. Damn them. I hope they rot in jail.” Her voice shook, but it was rage, not pain that had her hanging on the edge of tears. “Somebody put them up to this. They were too stupid to come here on their own. I just know it.”
Anton placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “I agree. I just wish we knew who it was. I doubt those men know enough to shed any light on the situation. Unfortunately, I imagine an attorney will have them out of jail in a few hours.”
“Well, I’ll be long gone. I’m planning to leave for San Francisco the day after tomorrow. I’ve already got my flight arranged.” Keisha tilted her head, daring him, waiting for his argument. Anton’s eyes narrowed but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he carefully bandaged Keisha’s wound and drew her slowly into his arms.
She went willingly, inhaling the musky scent that was all Anton’s, reveling in the strength of his embrace, the deep sense of love and safety that surrounded him. It would be so easy to lose herself in Anton’s arms, to forget the memorial, the dedication, the fact that someone hunted her as if she were nothing more than a wild beast.
So easy to forget the danger when Anton held her tight.
“I was terrified when I heard your warning of danger, when I sensed your fear.” Anton’s voice cracked on the words and a deep shudder passed through his body. Keisha clung to him, suddenly awash with guilt. She’d been thinking only of herself, of her desire to see the job through. What if it had been Anton wounded today? What if she’d followed his blood on the trail? Found him curled up in a ball of pain, hurting and frightened?
Could she have controlled her rage as well as Anton did? Would she have even tried? It hit her like an epiphany, the explosive awareness of how wild her nature had become since embracing her Chanku heritage. Keisha accepted a new reality—if Anton had been the one injured, the two shooters wouldn’t have survived long enough to go to jail. She’d killed men before. As much as she abhorred violence, she could do it again if her mate were threatened.
It took her a moment to tamp down the rush of bloodlust that almost swamped her. Finally, she swallowed back a growl and nuzzled close to Anton’s chest. “I wasn’t afraid, not once I knew you were close.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and rose up on her toes to kiss him. “I’m never afraid when you’re with me.”
Anton groaned, the sound a sensual rumble against her breasts. Keisha whimpered, a tiny, needy sound deep in her throat. She inhaled his scent, drawing strength from his warmth and innate power. She rocked her hips close to his, rubbed her mons over the smooth fabric of his pants.
Anton groaned, then kissed her hard, his tongue plundering, his teeth scraping her lips, along her jaw, nipping at her with a wild frenzy. His lips demanded. His hands raced across her back, over her breasts, swept down to her buttocks where he grabbed her with bruising strength and pressed her body closer to his.
Caught in his feverish desire, Keisha cried out against his mouth. She felt the heat of his erection through his black chinos, the hard edge of his belt buckle abrading her belly. The flap of fabric over his bulging zipper pressed against her swollen clit. His tongue found its way once more between her lips and he caught her up in a swift and carnal rhythm, plunging into her mouth, lifting her body hard against his.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her pussy close against his straining cock, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to soothe the fire raging hot and wild inside.
Keisha writhed in Anton’s powerful grasp, all the anger and pain, the fear and frustration of the past few hours coalescing into heat and passion, need of an almost feral intensity, driving her heart, inflating her lungs, making her gasp as if she’d run miles. Keisha lowered her legs, planted her feet firmly on the tile floor and let go of Anton’s neck, then grabbed at the hem of his sweater. She raked her fingernails over his ribs as she tugged the garment past his head.
The moment he shed the sweater, Anton dragged her against him for a deep, tongue-twisting, mind-searing kiss. Gasping for air, he backed away and stared deeply into her eyes, his nostrils flaring, his dark pupils narrow slits, dark shards of obsidian surrounded in amber.
Keisha reached for his thoughts and found them blocked, surrounded by something dark and impenetrable. Whatever he felt for her, whatever he thought of her, remained hidden behind those watchful eyes.
Fingers trembling, Keisha raised her right hand and touched Anton’s cheek. He turned and kissed her palm, groaning once again. She felt the press of his lips all the way to her womb. The tight clenching of her vaginal walls, the rush of welcoming fluids, the ache deep within her gut wrung a cry from her lips and she thrust her breasts against his bare chest, rubbing her sensitive nipples in the thick mat of his dark hair.
Anton nipped her palm, took a deep breath, then grabbed Keisha by the hips and spun her around, pressing her belly against the cool tile surrounding the bathroom sink. Shoving the First Aid kit aside, she spread her palms wide and braced herself on the counter. With his left hand in the small of her back holding her down, Anton found her wet and waiting pussy with the fingers of his right.
He thrust two fingers, then three inside, slipping easily into her drenched pussy, stroking her inner walls, trailing his thumb lightly across her anus, then pressing harder, finding entrance there as well.
She felt the tight muscle relax, then close once more around the base of his thumb as he once again found a seductive rhythm. In, out, penetrating both passages, slow and deep, his thumb pressing against his fingers through the thin wall of sensitive flesh inside her body.
Gasping for air, Keisha spread her legs even wider, flattening her belly hard against the tile. Once more she tried to reach Anton’s thoughts.
Still she found them closed to her.
Her climax was rushing forward, but she heard the sound of his zipper, the rustle of cloth and Anton’s body was there, the broad head of his cock pressing hard against her wet and waiting pussy, her swollen and sensitive lips parting, giving Anton passage.
His body, but not his thoughts. His skill as a lover, but not his love. Suddenly Keisha understood as awareness flooded her mind, left her soul wanting, her heart hurting.
This was not an act of love at all, at least not love as Keisha expected it. No. This was something darker, something ancient and ritualistic.
This was something she must fight or accept, the way of Chanku.
The way of the alpha male subduing his bitch.
Pressing Keisha flush against the smooth tile until her breasts were flattened and her cheek rested on the hard surface, Anton thrust hard and fast, establishing his dominance, his power and physical strength over his mate.
Keisha thought to struggle, then accepted. He might be physically stronger, yet she was the winner, the one who cried out in mindless pleasure when Anton pumped his seed into her, the one who begged for more, then milked him with powerful muscles until his legs quivered and he leaned across her back to keep from falling to the floor.
The one who opened her mind at the point of climax and found his waiting—conscience-stricken, apologetic and remorseful beyond description.
Each harsh breath forced his chest against her back and her tight vaginal muscles continued their steady contraction and release around his shrinking cock.
Anton sensed no anger from her, no fear, no emotion beyond love and her underlying compassion.
He couldn’t believe what he’d just done! This was no better than rape, this harsh and forced lovemaking…no, he couldn’t begin to call it lovemaking. Keisha wo
uld never forgive him.
She shouldn’t forgive him.
How would he go on living if she didn’t?
He raised his head, spread his palms out on the cool tile to separate himself from Keisha’s warm body.
“No. Please. Not yet.” She turned and smiled at him. “Damn. You feel too good inside me. Don’t go yet.”
“But…?” Anton frowned. “You’re not…?”
“Not what? Pissed?” She grinned, a lopsided smile that tore at his heart. “A little. On the other hand, if I’d wanted to stop you, all I needed to do was tell you to stop, right?”
He thought about that a minute. He would have quit in a heartbeat, no matter how angry, if he’d thought she wanted him to. “Okay, that’s true, but…”
Keisha reached up and brushed her knuckles across his chin. “I didn’t ask you to stop, Anton. I love you. We were both a bit overdosed on adrenaline. Do you love me?”
You know I do. I love you more than life itself.
Then why did you block your thoughts?
Anton sighed, then slowly withdrew from her body. He grabbed a yellow washcloth, held it under running water a moment, then wrung it out and handed it to Keisha. She turned around, leaned against the counter where they’d just had the most amazing sexual encounter, and unselfconsciously began to clean the semen and fluids from between her legs.
Anton watched her for a moment, mesmerized by the sweep of the damp yellow cloth against her dark skin and realized he wanted her again. He would always want her. He sighed, took the washcloth after she rinsed it in the sink and held it. “I didn’t want you to see an anger I couldn’t fully comprehend, didn’t want you to think less of me, to realize I can’t always control the beast inside.”
Keisha grinned, grabbed the washcloth hanging limply in his hand and began to wash his no longer limp cock. “You control the beast admirably, my love. Just don’t try to control me.”
She raised her head and gazed at him for a long moment. Anton watched her perfect breasts rise and fall with each breath she took, then looked up, into her eyes. “If you do,” she said, and her voice was tight with emotion, “you’ll lose me forever.”
Turn the page for a sneak peek at AFTER HOURS, coming
in April 2006 from Aphrodisia!
1
T here was something to be said about the way a woman danced. Between her body-hugging, short red dress and the arousing way she twisted her sleek curves, the woman who currently held Brendan Jordan’s attention seemed to be saying “do me” loud enough to be heard halfway across the hotel reception hall.
He glanced over at Mike Donovan, his one-time college roommate and the newest victim of matrimony, then nodded toward the blonde.
From his seat next to Brendan at the head table, Mike followed Brendan’s gaze. His grin turned from one of newly married idiocy to that of male understanding. “Pretty incredible, isn’t she?” he asked loudly, to be heard over the blaring music.
Drool-worthy was a more suitable way to describe her. Only, Brendan didn’t drool over women. If anything, the situation was reversed. They gave him the hot, hungry, fuck-me looks that made it clear what they wanted even before they approached. And, if they were lucky, he gave it to them.
The blonde wasn’t drooling over him. Judging by the dreamy expression that tugged her slightly too wide mouth into one of the sexier smiles he’d seen, she wasn’t even aware there were other people in the room.
Brendan was aware, however. Aware of how damned long he’d been sitting there ogling her. Looking away, he took a long pull from his beer. He set the bottle back on the table before nonchalantly asking, “So, who is she?”
Mike’s eyebrows rose. “You haven’t met Jilly?”
“That’s her name?” Brendan gave the woman an assessing look. Jilly didn’t sound right. With breasts plump enough to fill his hands and a curvy ass that had the bulk of his blood firing straight to his dick, she deserved a far more sensual name.
“I’d just assumed with your new jo—”
Brendan glanced back at Mike. “My what?”
Mike’s gaze clouded over. After a few seconds, his grin returned—a little too deviously, in Brendan’s mind. Mike used to grin like that back in college, just before he pulled the kind of shit that ended up getting both of them in trouble.
“Never mind what I was about to say.” Mike pushed his chair back from the table. “Let me do the honors of introducing you.”
Brendan pushed back his own chair and stood. The blonde might not be eyeing him over the way he felt various other women doing, but that didn’t mean he needed Mike’s help in getting her to talk to him. There was a reason he’d earned the title of “The Midwest’s Most Eligible Bachelor” from People magazine. That reason wasn’t due to shyness around women, knockouts or otherwise. It was because of his money and heritage and, more than that, his business savvy. He’d opted to take a break from the financial aspects of business and try his hand at the advertising end of things less than two years ago. Already he was rising up the corporate ladder with relative ease.
“Thanks for the offer,” he said to Mike, “but I can handle things from here.”
“Sure thing. Just let me know when you need help.”
Brendan laughed at the absurdity of the statement. They might share a passion, and even wisdom, for success, but they sure as hell didn’t for females. Mike’s knowledge of women could fit into a thimble. If it hadn’t been for Brendan literally pushing him in his new wife’s direction, the man would still be single.
Single, free and happy.
Guilt edged through Brendan, quickly fading when he noted the nauseatingly doting smile Mike shot his bride’s way. Nothing to feel guilty about there, just as there was nothing to be learned. “The day I need help with women from you, Donovan, is the day I’ll have truly sunk to an all-new low.”
Mike glanced back at him, humor lighting his eyes. “Hey, whatever you say, man. Just remember you said that come Monday.”
What was Monday? The day he started in on his latest career venture with the high-power, Atlanta-based advertising firm Neilson & Sons, but what did that have to do with the she-devil working her magic on the dance floor?
Whatever it was, it wasn’t important enough to stay in his mind and, therefore, not important enough to worry over.
With a last look at Mike, whose attention was again on his wife, Brendan started across the room. He stopped on the edge of the light-brightened dance floor where a mass of females and a handful of males worked their bodies in a number of interesting moves. None quite so interesting as Jilly’s, however.
Her profile was to Brendan, but he could still make out far more than he’d been able to back at the table. Honey-blond hair framed an expressive face and hung midway down her back in loose waves. Full breasts pressed against the snug bodice of her short, sequined dress as her nicely rounded ass swayed seductively in time with the music. Black high-heels streamlined long, slender legs encased in sheer stockings. While her eyes were closed, the sultry look on her face said plenty.
So did the arousal in his tuxedo pants that turned his cock from slightly hard with simple interest to rock-solid and throbbing.
There was something about her. Something he needed to discover before this night was over, or, at the very least, something he needed to uncover by way of removing the layers of silk, sequins and nylon that hid the lush body beneath.
Not about to stand by and wait for her to open her eyes, Brendan moved onto the dance floor and through a sea of thriving bodies to the one he ached to touch.
Jillian Lowery’s pulse went from a happily fast beat to all-out chaos in two seconds flat. A hand settled over her belly—a hand that she didn’t need to look down at to know was large and masculine. If the sudden throbbing between her thighs that came with the hot breath caressing her neck and the languorous movements against her backside were any sign, the owner of that hand knew exactly what he was doing.
She should s
top his highly suggestive and far too intimate moves, whoever he was. Any other day she would. Today wasn’t a normal day. Today was the first time in a very long while that she wasn’t surrounded by colleagues and clients alike who’d come to respect her cool, professional demeanor. Today the subdued wilder side of Jillian had a chance to come out and play. After today, that Jillian would have to go back into hiding until some unknown time in the future.
She should stop him, but she wasn’t going to. Not yet anyway.
Summoning nerves she’d forgotten she possessed, Jillian covered the stranger’s hand with her own and ground her bottom against her dance partner’s groin. The hand tightened at her waist and a low growl drifted to her ears. The animalistic sound would have been enough to bring too-long-denied hunger swelling to life. The length of an erection pressed against her buttocks was more than enough. Wetness gathered in her panties and her pulse threatened to beat out of control.
The hand beneath hers slid lower, down the sequined silk of her dress, and his palm turned and molded itself to the slight curve of her mound. The breath snagged in her throat. Perspiration gathered on her flushed skin. Her hips reacted out of instinct, grinding against that hot, weighty touch.
Restlessness screamed through Jillian, further moistening her panties with the juices of arousal, making her want in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe ever.
Need egged her on, shut out all thoughts of their surroundings, of the flashing lights and thundering music. Jillian tightened her hold on his hand, urging it to press harder, silently begging him to go farther. To push her dress aside and sink his fingers deep into her aching pussy, thrusting them in and out until she cruised past the limits of ecstasy and there could be no stopping her mindless screams of release.
He pressed the slightest bit harder. Her clit throbbed. She mewled deep in her throat. “Oh, yes. God, please…”
She wanted so badly.
Wanted to forget about being the consummate businesswoman. Wanted to let go and be the fun-loving, carefree woman she’d left behind four years ago. Wanted to experience satisfaction once this decade that didn’t have anything to do with landing another prestigious client en route to obtaining her dream job.