by Renee Rose
But I was rethinking that list. A few hours with Tank, and I’ll never again underestimate the power that big growly biker guys have on a lady’s ovaries. I’m two shots away from climbing Tank like a tree.
I toss my rainbow-colored hair, squeeze my elbows together to push up my boobs, and pout at the mirror. “How do you like it, big man?”
“You okay in there?” Tank calls.
Crap. He must be right outside the door, making sure I don’t climb out the window or something.
“Just a minute!”
I lick my lips and frown. There’s another way to control a guy. I’m not ashamed—I’ve done it before, to get out of speeding tickets and the like. A little flirting hurts no one. And playing the annoying little sister isn’t working.
I have to seduce him.
“Foxfire.” Tank knocks a few minutes later. “Hurry up—”
I swing the door open before he finishes his sentence. “Oh, you’re still here.”
He blinks at me. In the past few minutes, crazy Foxfire has become sexy Foxfire. I brushed and poofed my hair, added lip balm, spritzed some perfume. Nothing major.
Except now I’m naked under my bathrobe.
I wait until I’m in the bedroom before loosening the tie and letting it gape.
“It’s too bad you have to stay here all night,” I purr as he checks the windows. My house is old—someone painted the jambs shut thirty years ago. I won’t be escaping that way.
If my seduction plan works, I won’t need to.
Tank turns, takes one look at me, and stops. I smile at him.
“No,” he practically growls. Is that alarm scrawling across his face?
I guess sex really is the best weapon. At least when dealing with a giant MC club enforcer. “What?” I bat my lashes.
He angles past me and goes to my dresser. He opens a drawer and rummages around.
“What are you doing?” I squawk, flying at him.
“Here.” He thrusts a shirt at me. “Put this on.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to. And, right now, what I say goes.”
I pout. “But I sleep naked.”
“Not tonight.”
I shrug. “Fine.” My bottom lip puffs out as I take the shirt. I wait until he meets my gaze. I shrug my shoulders, and the bathrobe falls to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my boyshort panties.
His Adam’s apple bobs, and I note his cock is swollen against his jeans. I’ve totally hit my target.
I shrug the shirt on, doing a little jiggle as I do, and keeping my shoulders back. I don’t often wear this tank top—it’s tighter than I usually like. But tonight, it’s the perfect choice. The lavender tank looks perfect with my skin, and my girls are on full display. “Is this what you wanted?”
The growl sounds again, deep in his chest. “Get in bed.” His face is blank, but the tightness in his crotch hasn’t lessened.
“Will you tuck me in?” I press forward, stomach fluttering with excitement.
“You don’t want to do this.”
“Do what, Daddy?” I’m close enough if I lean forward, my boobs will brush his chest. His rock-hard chest. Don’t mind if I do.
As soon as my taut nipples touch him, electricity shoots from the tips to my foxy bits. Tingling spreads all through my lady parts, right into my core.
“No, baby.” Tank grips my arms and sets me back a step, a strained look on his face. “This isn’t what you want.”
“I’m a big girl,” I remind him. “I know what I want. Tonight, I want to be naughty.”
“We can’t,” he says through gritted teeth.
His seriousness cuts through my aroused haze. “You don’t want me?”
“It’s not that.” His big fingers close around a lock of my hair—a bright blue curl, carefully teased for his benefit. He squeezes, fist shaking, like an addict longing for a fix. Then he lets go. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Why not?”
“I’m rough.” His hand collars my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just rests his fingers there, as if to demonstrate how dangerous he is.
I’m not put off. Not in the least. “Yeah?” I breathe.
“Yeah. When I fuck, I fuck hard.” He pulls me forward and holds me against his chiseled body. I feel him. Every inch.
My pulse races.
“You wouldn’t like it, baby. Because it’s always going to be my way.” He dips his head, and his lips touch my ear. “I say spread, and you spread. I say ride, and you ride.” His whisper sends tingles through me. “I say come, and you come. And it’s not over until I say it’s over. Even if you beg me to stop.”
Fireworks explode in my brain. My pussy squeezes as if he’s already told me to come.
Benny was bad in bed. Really, really bad. So much so, I tended to encourage him to do his own thing, while I did mine. I’m essentially on a two year dry streak.
My seduction plan just backfired. Big time.
“So what’s it gonna be?” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You gonna be my good girl?”
My lips part. “Yes,” is on the tip of my tongue. My panties are soaked.
No, Foxfire! Bad, bad girl! I’m supposed to be seducing him, not melting into a puddle at his feet.
His lips drop to my ear. “You wanna be a good girl tonight, baby. You know why?”
“Why?”
“’Cause if you’re bad… you get punished.”
~.~
Tank
It was supposed to be an easy job. Get in, handle the girl, get out. Protect the pack.
I’m leaning against the wall outside of Foxfire’s bedroom with the boner the size of a baseball bat. I’m about to lose control. My wolf howls for its prey.
Foxfire. Fuck.
All evening, I alternated between wanting to dominate her and wanting to laugh. I’ve never met someone so annoying. And cute. And saucy. And smart. I want to punish her, smack that tempting ass, and spread her thighs. Find out how she sounds screaming Daddy when my tongue’s working her clit. Get underneath all her games and teasing to find out what makes her tick. To be the one who makes her tick.
No. No messing with humans, even cute ones that fascinate my wolf.
I can almost hear my dad. He lectured me my whole life to beware the pussy trap. “Son, don’t ever let a woman in. Give her an inch, she’ll think she’s a ruler.”
I want to give Foxfire a lot more than an inch. But I don’t want just to fuck her. I want to own her.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter, jabbing the buttons on my cell phone. Garrett. Jared. Trey. None of them are answering calls or texts. I called Sam over at Eclipse, but the wolves working at Garrett’s club tonight aren’t as high up in the pack, and they know nothing. I don’t tell them what’s going down—Garrett doesn’t want word getting out about his missing sister, Sedona. I’m his second. I have his back. I just wish he’d call.
Scratch that. I wish I could fuck Foxfire into next week then get my alpha’s call.
“Pack comes first,” my dad told me. “Always. A mate can trick you, a woman will leave you, but the pack will never let you down. Everything we have, we owe to our fellow wolves.”
“I’m trying,” I mutter. For a second, I think about calling my dad, but no. He’s in another pack, and I know what he’ll say. I’m not in the mood for a lecture.
This is my problem, and I’m going to face it like a grown man. I’m going to wait until Foxfire’s asleep and then jack off a couple of times. Hopefully that will relieve the tension until morning, when I see her again. I don’t even mind the freakish hair. It’s got me wondering—if those are the curtains, what color are the drapes?
One thing at a fucking time.
I pocket my phone—carefully, not a lot of extra room in my jeans anymore—and start to tiptoe away when I hear it.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
What the fuck?
I open the door.
Foxfire shoots
me a guilty look from the window. She’s got a metal nail file and is trying to work open the paint-sealed window.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to get some fresh air?” She hides the tool behind her back.
I want to laugh because she’s the cutest fucking prisoner I’ve ever seen, but instead I keep my face blank. I can’t let her know her antics are working.
And believe me, I do know she’s working me with them.
“Nice try, princess.” I clamp a hand on the back of her neck, ignoring the way her pulse jumps under my palm.
A scent fills the air, and I get a lungful as I guide her to the bed. Hot, fresh pussy.
“Get in, little girl.” I pull the blankets down.
“Read me a story?” she mocks with a hopeful little-girl face.
“I’m not your father.”
She hangs one finger from her mouth, the perfect coquette. “I know, big man.” Her bottom points in my direction as she climbs up, and I can’t help it. I smack her sassy ass.
She squeaks.
“That didn’t even hurt.” Not over her boyshorts. I grab her hips and nip the offended flesh then kiss it better.
She goes still, breath hitching.
Fuck. What am I doing? I definitely have zero intention of getting involved with this crazy human, no matter how cute she may be.
I slap her ass again. It’s addictive, how good her soft flesh feels under my hand.
“Get in that bed before I peel these panties down and give you a proper spanking,” I growl.
I’m not sure if I meant that to be a threat or an enticement, but she clearly isn’t scared.
I somehow wrangle my self-control and take a step back, so she’s out of reaching distance.
“Get in and scoot over.”
She obeys. I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed. “What are you doing?”
I grab a pillow—she’s got about a million, all different shapes and sizes. A few of them spill onto the floor as the bed sags under my weight. Tight fit, but we’ll make it work. “I’m going to sleep.”
“With me?”
Hell, yes, with you! My wolf asserts.
Down, boy.
I try for stern. “If you’re lucky, all I’ll do is sleep.” I lie down, my big body caging her against the wall. “Keep up the games, and I’ll punish you for real. Then we’ll sleep.” I swear I scent her arousal, which makes my cock surge into ready mode.
“Whatever you say, big man,” she says sweetly and I’m pretty sure she’s won this round because I’m the asshole with a hard-on so thick it could lift a car, and all she has is my handprint on her ass.
“Good girl,” I rumble. That’s right, sweetheart. You’re not the only one who can play that game.
I’ve started to relax when a small voice asks, “What exactly do you mean by punish me?”
“Keep pushing, and you’ll find out.” I drape my arm over my face, but it’s no use. I’m sprung. I should’ve taken the floor.
A deep breath is my only warning before Foxfire makes her next move.
My dick is suddenly happy—very happy—to be straddled by a lithe little body. Her hands rest on my pecs, and she leans forward, her breath warming my face.
In one move, I roll and pin her. Her breath shudders out of her, and the scent of her arousal definitely fills the air.
“Tank?”
“You don’t want this, baby.” Seriously. I would tear her apart. Her hips jerk, and I thrust my erection into the notch between her legs.
Oh fuck, I think she’s wet for me. Even through my jeans, I can feel her panties are hot and damp. She wraps her slender legs around my waist, inviting me home.
I shove her tight tank top up and groan at the sight of her breasts. Not too big, not too small. A perfect handful. “Oh baby, those nipples were meant to be licked, weren’t they?”
She arches up, offering them to me. I lean over and flick one with my tongue then graze it with my teeth.
When I look back up at her face, her gray eyes are wide. All pretense is gone. She’s not playing crazy or babygirl, she’s panting and watching me, apparently transfixed.
I slam my hips home again, wishing like hell I wasn’t just dry humping this little beauty.
She gasps. “Ow—um, you’re hurting me.”
Instantly, I let go and jerk away.
Fuck.
“No, it’s okay,” she says. It was just my hair was caught under the weight of your hand.”
No, I would definitely hurt her if I kept going. Better to stop now, before I’ve gone so far it’s not possible. I scrub my face, angling away from her so she doesn’t see how very close I am to tearing her skimpy clothes off and finishing what she started.
“Stay here. Go to sleep,” I say.
~.~
Foxfire
I’m all hot and bothered. I could finger myself, but Tank’s so close, he might hear me. He has really good hearing. And a good sense of smell. And he can practically see in the dark.
Too bad he’s not gonna fuck me. He must have some sort of code of honor, because I know he wants me. I never thought of motorcycle men as prudes, but there ya go.
Now I wish I hadn’t said he was hurting me. I meant for him to move his hand from my hair, not to jump off me like I burned him.
I wait a few minutes and then pad out of the bedroom, heading for the kitchen. If I can’t seduce him, I’ll escape another way.
“Foxfire? “What are you doing?”
“Just getting a drink of water.”
If you’re not back in bed in two minutes—”
“I know, I know, punishment,” I call back merrily, and turn on the water, but not before I hear a creak. He’s coming into the kitchen. It’s now or never.
I duck into the little room off the kitchen, and crouch by the door. For once, I’m glad Benny didn’t get around to replacing it. It came with a doggie door—useless because I’ve never had a pet. Useless, until now.
“What the fuck?” Tank growls, just as I scramble through the flap.
“Stop,” he shouts. He comes after me, hitting the door, but the deck is warped, and the door only opens partway. Another Benny project, never finished, the lazy asshole. The door opens enough that I can slip through, but a guy built like a Tank won’t have so much luck.
Then Tank hits it again, with such force it shudders but doesn’t break. Damn. Tough guy.
I find my feet and run, glad I thought to put on sneakers. I race up the small hill behind my house and down into the wash.
I chose this house because it was cute, right near downtown, but with the backyard against a wash, which means I get front-row access to wildlife and desert. The nearby open space relaxes me. When it’s nice, I work out on the patio, looking over the sandy banks, tangled with mesquite and creosote. I imagine running out there, hiking all day to find out where it ends, getting lost and found again in the wild.
I never thought I’d need a place to run and hide.
I bound into the wildness, my sneakers scrabbling on the rocks.
“Get back here,” Tank roars. He’d better keep quiet if he doesn’t want the neighbors waking up.
I would make for a nearby house and bang on their doors, but it’s the middle of the night. There’s no telling how long it’ll take for them to answer. Not to mention, they might be just as annoyed at me as at Tank. I have a bit of a reputation as the resident weirdo.
My best chance is to lose Tank in the wild out here, and hide. I dart around a cactus and crouch.
Tank runs fast for such a big guy. And quiet.
Folded in half, I sprint again. The moon lights my way, and I’ve always had pretty good night vision. But Tank does, too.
After my fourth sprint, I hide behind a boulder and wait. I listen, but there’s no sound.
My skin prickles. There’s something out there, breathing heavily. Instincts older than time tell me it’s not human.
Something’s out here, and i
t’s hunting me.
I peer around the boulder and meet glowing eyes. My stalker is some sort of giant black dog. A pet off its leash? Or something more sinister?
Tank’s name is on my lips. The man I’m trying to escape is the one who can save me. Ironic, but there it is.
I spring up from my crouch and run hard.
Behind me, the beast snaps into motion. I’m running as fast as I can, and it’s gaining on me. “Help,” I scream. “Help, Tank, help!”
A growl rings out behind me. It’s close. I’m going to die in the brush, torn apart by a wild animal.
And then—
Everything changes.
The darkness sharpens, and suddenly I see everything. Scents burst in my nose—the fresh-rain smell of creosote, the distant bloom of citrus trees. Something in the bush twitches—a feathery body, hiding and praying the predators will pass. I smell its fear.
The moon shines her spotlight on me. My head whips back. My spine crackles. My body shrinks... my hands morph from five digit, human ones to furry paws. I land hard on all fours, my body aching, my nose twitching with a thousand new smells. I’m tangled in layers of fabric. Yipping, I claw my way out of the tent of my old clothes. My legs scrabble against the sandy earth as I break free. I shake hard, and the tingles on my skin fade. My fur stands on end. My tail fluffs up like a pissed off cat’s. My long body feels sleek and strong.
Fur? Tail? Wait a minute.
I point my nose to the moon and yip. My four paws stay solid on the ground.
Paws? Now I’m really starting to freak.
There’s something I’m forgetting. Something I’m supposed to be doing.
A growl ripples over the grass to my left. A dark shape crouches there, eyes glowing.
What was I doing? ...oh yes. Running for my life.
With a high-pitched bark, I leap forward and race through the underbrush. There’s a puddle ahead. If I roll in it, I might diffuse my scent. The wolf behind me won’t be able to track me so easily.