by Seere, Diana
The fine skin of her throat called out for attention. Far silkier than the garment she wore. He licked his lips and felt the hunger in his cock, his mouth, his tongue needing to taste her more than it needed to lash her for her lies.
“You witch,” he hissed, but the word was said with a holy awe, his dawning recognition of her true power emerging as she reached for him and seared his mouth with a crushing kiss designed to distract him from what he’d come here for.
The truth.
Turning her power against her, he let those vixen strands of hair touch his wrists, enjoyed the fine, wet mouth that he devoured, but his rational self stayed firmly in control for this part.
Breaking the kiss, he said, “Tell me everything.”
“There is nothing to tell. I’m not a—”
Smothering her lie was remarkably easy as he took his loose hand and slid it up her supple thigh, finding her pussy a wet garden of wicked, sinful delights. She pushed against his fingers as he stroked her, Samantha’s hands going flat against his shoulders, suddenly pushing him away.
“Move your hand,” she said.
He froze. “You want me to stop, do you? Tell me to stop. Say the word and I’ll remove my… hand.”
She whimpered. “Please.”
“Please stop?” He began to withdraw. While he would not leave this room without every drop of information he could squeeze from Samantha, he would never force himself on her. And yet he suspected—he intuited, the feel of their breath locking in sync, how the pulse between her legs matched his racing heartbeat…
“Please keep going, Asher,” she whimpered. “Move your hand more.”
Ah, yes.
Her neck was his to lick now, his tongue dancing across the hollow of her collarbone, moving up to the fine jawline, making her shiver. “How do you want it, Samantha? You want it nice and slow, deep and wet? Or hard and fast until you explode, boneless and in pieces?”
“All of it.”
“All? I will take my time. I suspect it will take eternity to tame you.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
Forgetting both her hands were free, Asher found his body pressing hard against her as her hands worked in double-time to free his cock from the confines of proper clothing, her nimble fingers pulling him out.
“You cannot— Oh, good God woman, what are you doing?” he choked out as she dropped to her knees, his hand still woven into her thick hair as she used one hand to cup his balls, the other gripping his shaft. Her ambrosia-filled mouth covered him in sublimely rich perfection, his hips arching forward, the sight of her flaming red hair bowed down before him a supplication that he knew was pure fantasy.
She would never submit to him.
But he would die trying to make it so.
While the feel of her sweet mouth made him want to stay there forever, to come deep in her throat and have her accept his seed with the greedy joy of a naughty bedfellow, he had more mutual activities in mind.
For as long as he still possessed a mind.
At the rate this was going, he would soon be nothing but cock with legs. And as Dr. Samantha Baird continued to suck him, he realized that might just possibly be a form of existentialism as close to the divine as possible.
“Not like this,” he growled, pulling her up, kissing her with a depraved need, biting her lips, sucking so hard she opened her legs and began to ride his bare thigh. Her moans were feral, the sounds dissolving into nothing resembling speech.
The image of her naked, beautiful ass laid out before him as he plunged into her pussy was all he needed.
He made it so, turning her away from him, her ass lifting up as she readied for him, her sexy blue dress gathered around her waist.
“Asher,” she begged. “I feel you in me.”
“Not yet.” For a moment he paused to experience the pure visual joy of her, one finger running a trail down her ass crack, her shiver of unexpected activity making her breath come in hitched gasps that sent electric shocks through him, his blood chasing itself.
“No—I mean, I feel you. In me. You’re there already,” she moaned.
“Perhaps in spirit, but by God, Samantha, when I’m in you, you’ll know.”
And with that, he made her feel his presence in every way possible but especially in the flesh.
The flesh that mattered.
She cried out as he entered her, the passage so wet and hot he nearly came on the spot. Restraint dissolved in the face of pushing into her, his hands free to roam over hips so full and sweet he wanted to bite them. Samantha spread her chest out, arms wide and flat against the polished stone tabletop, her hair splayed like molten lava poured over a field. His hands slid under her, cupping her breasts, then pinching her nipples in twin, tight motions that made her clamp down and let out a small scream. His thrusts required more work, but as his heartbeat drowned out the world, he reveled in the extra power, her body’s response to his driving him to new heights.
She turned her head to the side, then lifted up, curling her back so she shoved hard, meeting each thrust with equal power.
Their bodies met in the middle, slamming at the base of his cock.
Which had just become the center of the universe.
* * *
Sam wanted him to go even deeper, but she no longer knew where her body began and his ended. Both were opening, pushing, taking, breaking, joining, burning. His lips found her neck, and the stubble of his chin was roughly erotic against her delicate skin, igniting nerves of pleasure she didn’t know she had.
More waves of inexplicable yearning washed over her. Just when she thought she couldn’t last another moment, his hand slid between their bodies, turning her to face him, and then—oh—found the aching target. His clever fingers pushed her over the edge of climax, and as she cried out, whimpering with agonized delight, he entered her with a rough, shuddering thrust.
Gasping, eyes wild, they looked at each other. Sam could feel his orgasm, how it felt to enter her and be embraced by her climax. From the look of wonder on his face—the most vulnerable she’d ever seen him—she knew he was inside her consciousness as well, living this moment as Sam, as Asher, as man, as woman… as One.
They collapsed together on the sofa, gasping, her earache forgotten. He pulled her against him, and for a long time they spooned silently with her bottom nestling into his lap. Their damp, hot bodies, so different in shape, fit together seamlessly, and she drifted down into a pleasant, buttery limpness. His arms felt so strong and secure.
He spoke softly in her ear, or perhaps he was only thinking them: nonsense words and apologies and endearments and compliments. Words like love, forgiveness, and trust.
“Trust?” Sam asked, shaking off her drowsiness. She wriggled to one side and looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m not the one who has the trust issues here, darling.”
“I realize that.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Darling.”
She smiled. He was so damn lovable when he let his guard down. “You do?”
“That’s what I was just thinking myself,” he said. “I beg your forgiveness for demanding something you were unable to give. Who knows better than I how dangerous it is to share a secret?”
Now that the recent lust tornado had passed over, Sam was able to think a little more clearly. “You’re still convinced I lied to you.”
“I am prepared to consider that it would be difficult for you to trust a man who had not yet trusted you with his own secrets.” He lifted his chin, looking every inch the noble gentleman.
“That’s big of you,” she said.
His brow furrowed. “You mock.”
“Maybe a little,” she said. “Here’s the thing, handsome. I didn’t hide a damn thing from you.” Except for how badly she lusted after him, she amended silently.
Seeming to hear her unspoken addition, he grinned. With an elegant finger, he traced a line from her chin, down her neck, and then under the fabric to her left nipple, which he circled
and teased to a point. “You hide far too much,” he muttered, dropping kisses along her throat. “Your body is mine. Every scrap of clothing is an affront. Your absence is torture. I starve for you, Samantha. Even now, the thought of letting you out of my sight fills me with terror.”
“How ironic then that you locked me away in a basement,” she said.
“Tomas is very, very close. I respected your desire—and ability—to work here at the lab and find a way to aid our defense and final resolution of his threat. But you’re right—I never should’ve left you alone, no matter how good the security. You will be at my side from now on. You will sleep and eat with me, in my cabin, at the main house, wherever—”
“Hold on, Asher. I’m not complaining about the lab. I want to work. I insist you let me keep working.”
“Fine,” he said. “Then I will stay here with you.” He pulled her against his chest, nuzzling her neck, and relaxed against the sofa as if everything was completely settled.
“Asher!”
“Hm?” A drowsy mumble. The man had already fallen asleep.
She elbowed him. “Did Molly tell you she saw a fox on my shoulder?”
“Ah, did she? That woman is a multitude of mysteries.”
A pang of jealousy struck Sam. If he was going to compliment a human woman, it should be her.
But he didn’t think she was a human woman.
Molly didn’t think she was a human woman.
What did they know she didn’t?
Sam broke out of Asher’s arms and sat up. “I didn’t know—I still don’t know—if I have fox shifter traits. I didn’t hide anything from you. I’m as confused about this as anyone!”
He frowned, a bit of his haughtiness returning. “Surely an adult and a scientist such as yourself would know that much of your own nature by now. You expect me to believe you had no idea?”
She twisted away to get off the sofa, her temper spiking. “Yes! I expect you to believe me when I tell you something. More fool me, apparently!”
He held out a hand. “Please, darling. Not again. If I’ve offended you, I apologize. I freely admit I am an irrational, impetuous fool when it comes to you.” Patting the sofa, he held her gaze with brilliant blue eyes.
Her racing pulse caught hold of his slower one, matched its pace, and steadied. The Beat was stronger than both of them, even their own hearts.
A shudder ran through her, beginning and ending at her left temple. Him. Us.
“I haven’t lied to you,” Sam said, ignoring his cue to sit with him. “I swear it. You must believe that I have never, to my knowledge, shifted into a fox. Or even considered it was possible! When Molly told me she saw the shadow earlier today, the only hypothesis I could form was that it had something to do with a fox bite I experienced as a child.”
He closed his eyes a moment and nodded slowly. “I see. Forgive me. I… I was angry. I may have overreacted.”
“May have?”
“You weren’t quite the model of retiring decorum yourself, darling.”
“You deserved it,” she said.
His mouth split into a lopsided grin that made her nipples hard. “It pleases me to no end to hear that. I pray you feel the need to inflict more of what I deserve upon me as soon and as often as possible.”
“It’s impossible to stay mad at you,” she said.
“But I am sure you will try anyway.”
She spun around and went looking for her clothes. If he’d ripped her new dress, she was going to send him a bill. “You wish. I’ve got to get to work. Apparently my DNA requires further study.”
“Samantha, honestly. I admire your work ethic, but even brilliant scientists and their lovelorn admirers require sustenance.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Other than tea cakes.”
“I need to work.”
“And you will.” He sat up and got to his feet, his glorious form, marred only by the scar, on proud display. “I admire you immensely for it. But first we will share a decent meal, and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned from Zach about a prophecy that alarmed me so. Then perhaps you will understand my… er, haste… in speaking to you.”
“Speaking?” She propped a hand on her bare hip. “Is that what you call it?”
Keeping his face serious, he walked over to her, posture as imperial as always, and glared down. A sliver of something hot and wild broke through the cold mask. He caught her around the waist and pulled her against his body. “Fucking,” he said roughly. “I call it fucking.”
She shivered. “Do you?”
He dropped his mouth to her ear. “I do. And I’m going to do it again.”
Before she realized what she was doing, she began grinding her pelvis against his.
With a wolfish grin, he captured her face in his hands, kissed her quickly, and broke away. “After we eat. We both have a lot of work to do. We’ll need our strength.”
Chapter 11
Dispensing with the food order via a quick call to the ranch’s kitchen staff, Asher didn’t bother with his discarded clothing, instead watching Samantha with unbridled delight as she busied herself in the kitchen, brewing coffee.
“Have you considered tea, perchance?” he asked her.
“Could you possibly sound more English? God, Asher. Offer me some scones and clotted cream and an audience with the Queen, why don’t you?”
“There hasn’t been a Stanton at court in decades.” He frowned. “Do you wish me to bring you there? What draws you to the royals? They are more ceremonial and ornamental than—”
She blinked at him, staring. “I was joking.”
“I was not.”
“How, um, how well connected are you?”
“I do not understand your question.”
“You can get a meeting with the royal family in England. Are you on a first-name basis with any other world leaders?”
He knew what she was asking and sighed inside, keeping his face and body as neutral as possible. “I do not use power for the sake of power. I maintain connections that help the shifter world.”
“Tell me more about that,” she asked, pulling a chair up to the small kitchen table where her now-steaming cup of coffee rested. He observed her movements, the cream and sugar in the drink, how she stirred quickly and efficiently, licking the spoon after.
Ah, to be a spoon.
“More about what?”
Bzzzz.
Asher’s smartphone buzzed in his discarded pants, which he grabbed with the toes of one foot and pulled to his hand. Samantha smiled at him as he looked at the text, then made a call.
“Manny?”
“Sir, we have new reports you need to view.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“The news is filled with worldwide outbreaks of shifter breaches. All cats like Tomas Nagy.”
“Deliver them to me now.”
“I am at your office, sir. Where are you?”
“Dr. Baird’s personal quarters.”
“Oh.” The utterance was a question. A judgment. An amused exclamation.
Asher hung up on him.
“What was that about?” Samantha asked, the neckline of her dress gaping open, showing her beautiful, abundant breasts peeking out over the edge of the lace bra. He looked down at himself and realized he was not in his personal quarters, and Manny was on his way. Sliding one foot into his pants leg, he frowned.
“That was Manny. A new set of reports are in for me to review,” he explained as he finished putting on the trousers.
“Reports?”
“Yes. I receive them regularly, but this one is disturbing. Cat appearances worldwide.”
“Appearances?”
Reining in his rapid-fire words, he took a long, even breath. She didn’t understand. Of course she couldn’t. He needed to give her a framework. “You know, I am certain from your work with Gavin that occasionally, shifters are seen in public, in animal form? The tiger roaming the city streets. The cheetah that escaped from the zoo, the bear eati
ng out of dumpsters at a train station?”
“Yes.” She nodded eagerly. “Gavin explained that you have a team who goes and spins the event. That it’s really all shifters. You feed the media stories about exotic animals breaking out of private homes. That sort of thing.”
“Indeed. And according to Manny, there has been—”
Tap tap tap.
Too soon for the dinner to be delivered, Asher knew. Manny’s face greeted him as he opened the door, Samantha modestly and discreetly retiring down the hallway.
“Sir.” Manny handed him a thumb drive. In order to subvert Tomas’ extensive hacking operation, Asher and his technical team went to extremes.
Which were not really extreme when it came down to it.
“Thank you. I take it this requires my full and immediate attention?”
“I leave that to you.” Manny’s eyes cut to the room behind Asher. “Are you planning to tell Dr. Baird?”
Asher’s stone face was more habit than intentional. “I have not decided.”
“She’s an ally, sir.” Manny cleared his throat. “If I may say so.”
“You may. And Manny,” he added. “Have our dinner delayed for half an hour.” With a bow, he dismissed Manny and took the thumb drive into the apartment, palming it just as Samantha returned, buttoned up, her hair in its safe, smooth ponytail.
“Work?” she asked, the word disconcerting for some reason Asher could not name.
“Yes,” he said, surprising himself as he unfurled his fingers and showed her the thumb drive. “I need to go to my office and review some urgent materials.”
“Materials?”
“Videos. PDFs. Reports. And I need to do it quickly.”
“You’re welcome to use my computer,” she said, pointing to the laptop case on an end table near the couch.
“No. I need my secure machine.”
“In your office? Do club leather chairs and massive oak desks come with hidden computers I don’t know about? Aren’t you more the quill and scroll type, Asher?” she teased.
“I assure you, I am well acquainted with modern technology.”
“Oh? Moved up to using ballpoint pens, have we?”