He didn’t thrust it inside her but simply nudged her entrance with the pad, teasing so her inner walls clenched, seeking to be filled.
Roxi’s head swam. She arched her back as far as the restraints would allow, seeking closer contact with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue—anything he was willing to give.
God…
She hadn’t realized he wanted her too. They’d spent all this time together, and yet he’d done little more than grunt her way on occasion, like when she asked about the weather or wondered if he’d had a good weekend. She’d given up trying to initiate casual chitchat, because judging by the way Donovan looked at her as he freed Roxi from her bonds each night, well…she’d assumed he disapproved of her work.
Disapproved of
her
.
But a man didn’t have to like a woman to want to fuck her, did he? No more than a woman had to love a man to bring him to her bed.
As a newcomer to New York, Roxi had watched every episode of
Sex and the City
in an attempt to understand American relationships. And over the course of six seasons, she’d figured out that a modern woman could have everything she wanted. All she had to do was reach out and grab the prize with both hands.
Not that she could grab Donovan at the present moment, restrained as she was, but the concept was sound. She’d been drooling over him since Brad had first removed her blindfold, allowing her to see the new bodyguard. This was her opportunity to have some fabulous, no-strings sex with the guy she’d been fantasizing about for weeks.
Except…she hadn’t just been fantasizing about hot sex with a gorgeous man, had she? No, she’d been yearning for so much more. As crazy as it sounded—especially when she had his talented mouth on her pussy—she didn’t want a fling. Not with Donovan. She wanted him to cook her eggs and bacon after a night of passion, to bring her roses, to declare his undying love on bended knee.
“Stop.” She gasped out the word, as rattled by the sudden romantic flight of fancy as she’d been by the first touch of his tongue to her sex.
Donovan either hadn’t heard her or he didn’t give a damn. Because clearly, he had no intention of stopping. His finger slid deeper into her channel. His tongue circled her clit.
Roxi whimpered, wishing he’d removed her blindfold. She wanted to see him there, between her legs, his chin glistening with her juices, his eyes dark with lust. “Donov—”
She didn’t get to finish uttering his name. Just then, he closed his lips around her clit and sucked.
The orgasm he’d been teasing from her body exploded in a rush, careening through her with the force of a tsunami. Her body quivered. Cream soaked her folds, and the scent of her pleasure flooded her nostrils.
Through the fog of release, she heard a metallic rattle and recognized it as a belt buckle hitting the floor. She pictured Donovan standing naked between her spread legs, his large cock cradled in his right hand, the tip pointing straight at her opening.
She wanted him. Oh God, how she wanted him. But not like this.
“Enough! You have proven your point,” she panted, still fighting to catch her breath after the fabulous orgasm he’d given her. “I am a lustful whore who comes on demand. Is that what you want to hear?”
He growled low under his breath. The sound was menacing, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “You think this is a game?”
“Is it not?” A trickle of apprehension ran through her. Would he untie her now? Or would he take what he wanted anyway? “You win.”
“Ah hell, woman.” The sound of a zipper being raised told her he’d tucked himself back in. A pang of disappointment struck her chest. So much for getting to see whether the rest of him was as beautiful as she’d imagined. “I don’t understand you.”
“What is to understand?” She felt weird having a conversation with him like this, naked and bound, with the cream of her release running down her inner thighs. “I display my body. It is no different than a showgirl.”
“I think you mean a stripper. Showgirls are in Vegas, not New York, and as far as I know, they don’t take off all their clothes.”
Roxi blew out a breath. Was he always this infuriating? She liked him better when he didn’t speak. “Ask me, then. Ask me why I do this job.”
“I thought I had.” He made quick work of the cuff binding her right wrist, then moved on to the left.
“No.” Roxi rubbed her sore wrist. “You assumed. There is a difference.”
“So tell me, then.” His voice softened. When he reached for her blindfold, his fingers slipped through her hair. “Why do you do this?”
A shiver rattled Roxi. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue then gathered up the courage to spill her dirty little secret. “Because…”
He slid off the blindfold and her breath caught in her throat. The lean lines of his jaw, the stubble that made him look rough and dangerous, the gray eyes locked directly onto hers, all conspired to make logical thought flee her mind.
“Yes?” he prompted.
Damn. Confessing would have been much easier if she didn’t have to look at him while doing it. She took a deep breath then murmured, “Because I can.”
“I don’t understand.”
He wouldn’t, would he? Donovan had “rebel” written all over him. He’d probably always done exactly as he wanted.
She sighed. “I was raised to be a good girl. To do what good girls do. Be chaste, remain a virgin until marriage, give birth to beautiful children. My lot in life has always been to be a good wife. It’s what my mother was, and my grandmother before her. Except…that’s not who I am. I didn’t want to get married. I wanted…” She pursed her lips, unsure how to share this part of herself without making his opinion of her drop even lower. At last, she shrugged. “I wanted to experience life.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And by life, you mean sex?”
She didn’t have it in her to be offended. Not when he looked so intrigued, and more than a little aroused. “Yes and no. I discovered I enjoyed taking off my clothes. Having many people see me. It was…exciting.” She’d stumbled upon her exhibitionist streak by accident one summer when her friends had proposed going skinny-dipping after the sun went down. While all the other girls had shed their swimsuits after they’d already slipped into the ocean, Roxi made a show of taking hers off on the shore and strutting around naked. She never even got wet that day. At least, not in the conventional sense.
“Let me guess. Your parents weren’t as crazy about this discovery as you were.”
She lowered her lashes, remembering her mother’s disappointment when she started rebelling. Sneaking out of the house, staying out late—and showing absolutely no interest in settling down with a suitable husband. “When I announced I was going to college in the U.S., my father was relieved, I think. My mother, not so much.”
Donovan nodded, as if he actually understood. “So you’ve disappointed your family. Welcome to the club. What did your mother say when you told her you took this job?”
She cringed. “I have not told her.”
“Yeah.” His lips pressed together and he looked as grim as she’d ever seen him. “Can’t say I blame you. At least what they don’t know can’t hurt them.”
Were they still talking about her? She wasn’t so sure. “This was not the job I thought I would have when I came to New York.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to explain that she hadn’t
sought
to take off her clothes for a steady paycheck, but she did. “I applied by mistake. I was sending out résumés to many, many places, temp jobs and retail jobs and waitressing jobs… After a while I received a call, and I was so happy to come to the interview. I met Brad, and when he told me what the job was, I laughed. It sounded exciting and wonderful, but I knew I would never get it.”
The surprise on Donovan’s face couldn’t have been more complete if she’d just admitted to having come here from Mars on her personal spaceship. He ogled her, his gaze sliding down the length of her torso, all the way to her toes and back again. “Why not? You’re beautiful.” The growl in his voice had returned, as though he dared her to argue with him.
Roxi grinned, loving the conviction she saw in his eyes. “I am not ashamed of who I am, Donovan, but I know how I look to others. I do not have the ideal female body, according to fashion magazines.”
“You’ve been reading the wrong magazines.” His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to touch her, but he tightened his hands into fists instead.
“I like it here. In New York
and
at Moderne. For the first time, I can do whatever I please. This job, this place…it is my way of proving that I can be someone other than the person my mother wants me to be. My life has not been decided for me. I can take control, live it the way I wish.”
“And you wish to live it with your clothes off?”
She laughed, the sound carrying through the empty room and echoing off the walls. “Before coming to New York, I never knew that was an option.” Even though her ankles were still bound, she lifted herself onto her elbows and fixed Donovan with a curious stare. “What if you’d spent your life hiding your true self? And what if you could suddenly be free to be who you really are, all the time? Wouldn’t you do it?”
His eyes darkened, and he suddenly made quick work of untying the straps around her ankles. “It’s not that simple.”
She slid off the body pillow. Her feet landed on the tiled floor with a thud, and she winced at the jab of pain that jolted her heel. “Why not?”
Donovan grasped one of the chains dangling from the ceiling. “Because some of us have secrets that are much darker than the need to be naked around strangers.”
Roxi’s heart skipped a beat. “What kinds of secrets?”
“Dangerous ones.” He turned away from her then and headed for the door. “Good night, Roxi.”
She sucked in a breath and held it, debating whether to call out to him. What would he do if she asked him not to leave? If she closed the distance between them and plastered her naked body against his perfectly pressed suit? If she demanded he finish what he’d started when she was still bound?
Only the shimmer of unease trickling down her spine kept her from doing just that. He’d all but admitted he was dangerous.
She wasn’t sure she had the courage to find out what that meant.
Chapter Two
The smell of too many bodies in close proximity mingled with the musky scent of sex and the pungent odor of spilled blood. The familiar aromas filling The Wolf’s Den flooded Donovan’s nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, knowing this was exactly where he belonged. Among his own kind, with shifters who recognized and accepted him for what he was.
It wasn’t home, and this sure as hell wasn’t his pack, but for the time being it would have to do.
It was here he’d find a mate. He was certain of it. On the dance floor that stretched out before him, or up in the balconies shrouded in shadows for private encounters, his perfect female waited. He just had to figure out who she was, a seemingly simple task that had proven to be a whole lot more difficult than he’d expected.
Tonight, anticipation sang in his blood and filled him with hope. She was here somewhere. She had to be.
The steady thump of techno music matched the beating of his heart. He made his way into the crowd, stopped in the center of the dance floor and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. A blonde with short, spiky hair and too much makeup rubbed up against him. She purred in his ear as her fingers climbed up his torso and her hips swayed back and forth to the beat of the music. “You’re not dancing.”
He waited for his wolf to react to her presence but the beast remained dormant, offering none of the excitement he had displayed at a single whiff of Roxi’s scent. So this woman wasn’t the one, then. “I don’t dance.”
She pouted, showing a small barcode tattoo on her inner lip. He instantly flashed to Roxi’s small bruise on her lower lip, and his cock jolted from semi-hard to fully erect.
The blonde must have noticed. She grinned and slid her wandering hand between his legs. “How can I tell if you’re any good
off
the dance floor if you won’t let me see you shake those sexy buns?”
She wasn’t bad looking, and after his earlier encounter with Roxi, he was horny as hell. Maybe he could rethink his determination to remain celibate until he found a mate. After all, he’d been more than willing to give Roxi the ride of her life. Fucking a shifter would be even better.
He wrapped an arm around the blonde, splayed his palm at the base of her spine and pulled her close. “You want to know how I move?” He thrust his hips forward, slamming his hard cock against her groin. “Just like this. Over and over again.”
Her eyes widened. She ground into him as he kept thrusting, still attempting to stick to the music’s tempo even though Donovan was now setting the pace. Grabbing his hips, she danced to the left and undulated against him, her pussy rubbing against the outside of his thigh. “Oh baby, yeah. Just like that,” she urged.
Her nipples pebbled, tenting the tight white tank top she wore. Memories of another set of nipples, small and pebbled and mouthwatering, filtered through his thoughts. He could picture Roxi so clearly spread out before him, like an offering to his inner wolf. So perfect. So ripe for the taking.
The animal inside him stirred. A delighted buzz started low in Donovan’s belly and spread outward. He glanced up, fully expecting to gaze into a pair of deep, dark eyes. Instead he met blue orbs that blinked at him through lowered lashes tinted with violet sparkles.
Chagrin rolled through him and he pushed the woman away a little harder than necessary. “Not tonight.”
The blonde looked stunned. Her lower lip jutted out again but she seemed confused, like she couldn’t decide whether to cry or slap him. He didn’t give her the chance to do either, instead pushing past her and off the dance floor.
At the bar, he claimed one of the few empty stools and ordered a shot of vodka on the rocks. The noise was approaching ear-splitting levels. Between the music, the attempts at talking that resulted in screaming and the occasional howl, he could barely hear himself think. Which was probably a good thing, because every thought he had was of Roxi.
Damn the woman for being so intriguing. He’d thought he had her figured out. She’d proven him wrong. And now, instead of scouring The Wolf’s Den hoping for the slightest bit of excitement for his wolf, he was drinking alone.
A bright spotlight blazed to life to his right, illuminating a wooden stage sitting five feet off the ground. Situated just beside the bar at the far end of the room, it gave everyone in The Wolf’s Den a perfect view of what was about to take place. The crowd stopped dancing and gathered close. The scent of excitement filled the air.
No wolf wanted to miss a ritual conducted on the Mating Stage.
A man and a woman stumbled up the wooden steps and onto the stage. They clung to one another’s waists, their lips locked in a kiss even as they struggled to find their footing. Their clothes were already half off. A tattered shirt hung from the woman’s right arm but her breasts were bare. The man squeezed one in his hand as he cupped her ass with the other.
Donovan’s cock hardened further. Lust streamed through his system, and the need to take the first available female and plunge his dick into her became a constant throbbing ache deep in his balls. He wanted to look away from the couple, but found he couldn’t turn his head.
A few seconds later, they were both fully naked. The woman—a pretty enough redhead with a large mouth—dropped to her knees and wrapped her lips around the man’s stiff shaft. Donovan gritted his teeth and cupped his own aching cock in the palm of his hand. He noticed that some of the other spectators had their dicks out and were stroking in time with the techno music.
The man on stage sank his fingers into the redhead’s hair. He cradled her head while she sucked him, his hips angling forward and back, rocking in time with the rhythm she set.
Donovan squeezed his shaft through the fabric of his pants. A dart of jealousy surged through him. How much longer would he have to wait until it was his turn?
Muscle and sinew rippled across the man’s chest and abdomen, making it clear his inner wolf wanted out—now. The guy managed to keep the shift at bay, but just barely. Claws extended from the tips of his fingers and his muzzle elongated. With an ear-splitting howl, he grabbed a handful of the redhead’s hair and dragged her to her feet.
She snarled at him but obeyed the unspoken command, turning around and then falling on all fours in front of him. He draped his body over hers, the time for seduction long gone. He shoved inside her in one primal, animalistic move. The wolves gathered around the stage echoed his satisfied growl.
He pumped into his mate, claiming her with each thrust. Donovan’s vantage point gave him an unobstructed view of the man’s cock sliding out of the redhead’s pussy before pushing back in again. She writhed against him, rocking backward, meeting him thrust for thrust.
Her shift came on swiftly. Her ears stretched and fur broke out over her arms. A moment later, her skin rippled, shimmering as her bones lengthened and her body changed.
The man’s transformation from human to wolf was also nearly complete. He whimpered, and the sound carried above the music. The spectators gave wolfish whimpers of their own, urging him to finish what he’d started.
Almost completely shifted but for his cock, most of his abdomen and upper thighs, the man arched his back as he pumped harder inside his mate. And then he lowered his head and sank his teeth into her shoulder, marking her as his for all to see.
The she-wolf cried out, a raw mixture of scream and howl. The male gripped her harder, his haunches shuddering in the midst of orgasm. She joined him in a spectacular release that left her body quivering, and when the male withdrew, blood coursed in rivulets down her right shoulder, coating her arm.
The spotlight turned off, plunging the Mating Stage into darkness. Only then did Donovan look away.
His cock throbbed in agony. The need to come tightened his sac, until desperate desire drove him to his feet. He turned, a little shaky on his legs, and collided with a woman.
“Hey, big boy.” She wiggled eyebrows that nearly blended into her chocolate-colored skin. “Wanna fuck?”
She was cute, and the large tits that nearly spilled out of her tight, belly-baring top didn’t hurt one bit. When he finally forced his gaze up, he found she had dark eyes. He liked that. Maybe if he stared directly into them he could pretend it was Roxi writhing beneath him instead of a stranger he’d never see again.
Once again, his wolf offered no opinion at all on this woman.
“Well?” She scowled, clearly impatient. “You speak English, right?”
“The important words.” He let his gaze rake over her. “Tits. Cunt. Fuck.”
“Good.” She flashed him bright teeth that glowed in the black light of the club. “We’ll get along just fine, then.”
The woman grabbed his hand and led him down a dark hallway toward the bathrooms. They passed two couples hidden by shadows, but he didn’t need to see them to know they were fucking.
His companion pushed him against the wall about halfway down the length of the corridor. He knew this place well. Behind him was a storage room, and next to that, the owner’s office. And yet, he didn’t give a damn that they might get caught. If they didn’t claim this space, someone else would.
“Fucking Mating Stage.” The woman panted in his ear as she tore at his belt. “I’m so horny after one of those displays, I could fuck the first available cock. Oh wait, I am.”
“You’ve got no mate?” He knew the answer already but wanted to hear it from her. If she’d had a mate, he’d be laid out on the ground with a bloody nose by now. Still, no way would he mess with another wolf’s female, even unknowingly.
She scoffed. “Get tied down to one wolf? Never.”
His cock popped out of his jeans and the woman dropped to her knees before him. She fisted his erection, making appreciative noises in the back of her throat. The music wasn’t nearly as loud back here, so he could hear her guttural moan as her lips wrapped around his cock.
Donovan leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The suction around his dick felt damn good, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. Oh yeah. This was exactly what he needed.
An image of Roxi popped into his mind. She was on her knees before him, flashing him a playful grin before opening her gorgeous mouth to take him inside. Her eyes stayed locked onto his, and he saw every one of his emotions mirrored in her gaze.
Lust. Need. Disappointment. Shame.
Guilt walloped him like a punch to the gut. He growled, the noise rising from his chest and exploding in a howl. Claws broke through his fingertips. His muzzle lengthened, bringing with it a wave of pain that crashed into his head and made him howl even louder.
He pushed at the woman’s shoulders, needing to get away.
Startled, she released his cock and leapt to her feet. He was damn lucky she hadn’t bitten down when he’d shoved her off him. As it was, she swiped at him defensively, her claws catching him on the shoulder and raking the side of his neck. She scampered backward, crouching against the opposite wall. The woman growled back at him, and in the dim light he could see her shoulders pop out of their sockets as the shift overtook her.
Donovan’s neck burned where she’d scratched him. His muscles quivered and he struggled to hold himself in check. It didn’t matter if he shifted here but he’d be damned if he lost control, even amongst his own kind. His cock raged, the throbbing in his sac matching the pain pummeling his head.
He used every ounce of restraint he possessed to halt the shift. His face rearranged itself and his claws retracted. Panting, he left the female where she was, yanked up his pants and stumbled down the corridor to the men’s bathroom.
The door banged against the wall, startling two men fucking against the sink. They watched him warily, their eyes glowing yellow in the overhead neon light. Neither one had fully shifted but both were in various states of furry arousal. He ignored them and pushed inside the stall farthest from the door.
He dropped his pants once more and pulled out his dick. The sensitive skin of his cock head had turned a deep shade of crimson. His boxers were wet with pre-cum and his balls felt tight enough to crack walnuts.
Donovan tightened his grip on his shaft. He slid his fist up the length, shuddering at the sensation. He could have been buried inside a woman’s sweet cunt, not jerking off again. He needed a willing female writhing under him. He needed a shifter—a mate.
He needed…
Roxi
.
There she was again, taking over his thoughts, his fantasies, his fucking mind.
Increasing his frantic pace, he yanked on the tender skin of his cock. The friction made him grit his teeth as pleasure accumulated low in his groin.
Why was he so fixated on a human? That wasn’t his way. He’d never given human females a second glance. Their scents didn’t interest him and their fragile little bodies left him cold.
He wanted a shifter, a mate who’d be his equal in every way. Someone like Samantha, who’d been promised to his wolf on the day of her birth. She’d endured the mating ceremony with exemplary poise and lasciviousness, something no human woman could ever hope to do.
If she hadn’t run…
He gritted his teeth hard enough to send a jolt of pain into his jaw. He’d be damned if he gave Samantha another thought. It was only a matter of time until he found a more suitable mate. A shifter he could present to his pack so they’d stop making him the butt of every joke, like they had when he’d made the mistake of returning home briefly—without a mate in tow. The next time he strolled into town, he’d make certain jaws dropped. Every member of his clan would admire his choice. The males would covet her. The females would envy her. And none of them would ever mock or ridicule him again.