Swinging his leg over the back of his bike, he climbed off the motorcycle. Natasha stepped out of her car. Instantly, he detected perfume on the breeze and smiled. She’d put on more makeup too. That had to mean something, right? The beast in him tried to surface.
Be cool, man, be cool.
Shit, she’s fucking sexy.
His cock had never really gone down, even as they made small talk over lunch. As if it had a will of its own, it kept sending thoughts into his head.
Ask her to suck me dry, it would say. Let me fuck that mouth of hers. Come on, take her, you know her pussy’s going to feel so good and tight. Can’t you smell how wet she is for us? Ah, come on, big fella, you know you want to.
Great, not only am I talking to myself, my cock is joining in the conversation as well.
She’s looking at you. Be cool, man, be cool.
The sweet, fresh scent of her perfume wrapped around his senses as he neared her, mingling with the already familiar smell of her body’s cream. He tried to make his lips move into an easy smile, but it was hard to be easygoing when he fought desire and his inner beast at the same time.
Joining her on the sidewalk leading up to his house, he flipped through his keys to find the one to his front door. Once he had it open, he stepped aside, letting her go in first. He leaned over, looking at the sway of her hips as she went past him. Roark bit his lip to suppress a moan.
Fuck! I am going to be the first man killed by propriety.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked.
Good, light conversation. You can do light. Be cool.
“Ah, honestly, I can’t remember. I tend to move around a lot.”
“Restless spirit?”
“Something like that.”
“I don’t think you ever told me what you do for a living.” Natasha finally turned, looking at him. Damn, her eyes were the bluest he’d ever seen. He wished she’d take down her hair for him, so he could see the full richness of the red silky texture.
“It depends on where I’m at,” he said.
“What was your last job?”
Roark tensed, not wanting to lie to her, but unable to tell her the truth. Somehow he figured “tracking down and killing rogue werewolves for his father, king of the O’Connell clan” would sound a little crazy to her, if not downright terrifying.
“Let’s see, I did some modeling a while back for an erotic novel cover. The book was featured in a magazine.”
“Really?”
Was he mistaken or did she look intrigued by that? “Do you read erotic novels?”
The woman actually blushed.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice low. “So there is a wild side in you waiting to get out.”
“And what else have you done?” she asked quickly, refusing to answer.
Viciously killed a lycan who was hunting children. We regulate our own.
“Um…” He stepped closer to her. She didn’t back away. “I had a stint as a male dancer.”
“At the diner?” she laughed.
“No, before that,” he said.
“Ballroom?” she asked, her eyes darting down over his body.
“No. Stripper.”
“Ah.” The sound was a mere squeak. The intense outpouring of her desire filled his nostrils. “That’s an, ah, interesting, ah, job.”
“Mmm, I’d be more than happy to show you sometime.”
“You would?” Again, her voice was weak. Her breathing deepened and her cheeks became flushed as she looked at his chest, only to let her gaze roam lower to where his arousal proudly pressed against his tight leather pants. How he wished she would reach forward and free his hard erection!
“Sit down,” he ordered softly, nodding toward the couch. She hesitated, but did as he commanded. Going to a remote, he dimmed the lights and shut the curtains. Then, hitting another button, he slowly walked into the now dark living room as the opening beats of a techno song played. He kept his gaze on her, letting the liquid heat shine in their depths. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the afternoon. Inside the house, the mood was perfect.
Natasha’s rounded eyes looked up at him, as if shocked and surprised that he was actually going to dance for her. Slowly, he thrust his hips to the rhythm of the club music. Roark had never been one for a routine but instead he went with the flow of things. The beat picked up and he began moving in time to it, thrusting his hips hard as he artfully worked off his leather jacket. Knowing just how to seduce her by the subtle reactions of her body, he lifted his T-shirt, giving teasing peeks of flesh as he danced closer to her.
He kept the teasing up for a while, kicking off his boots and socks. Then, rolling his stomach and flexing his chest, he ripped the T-shirt back. Natasha gasped, her hands digging into the arm of his couch as she stared at him. The tattered shirt fell to the floor and he kicked it at her. It slid onto her lap, but she didn’t take it.
Roark ran his finger along his low waistline, rocking his hips in hard thrusts to keep time with the music. He unbuttoned the pants, working closer to her. Anticipation curled in his gut. This would be a day Natasha never forgot.
Natasha couldn’t breathe. Roark’s sexy dance was doing things to her she never thought could happen and her body was elevated to a mindless state of pure arousal. Squirming in her seat, she was sure her body was so wet that it was soaking his couch. She clenched her thighs together, but the throbbing in her clit didn’t stop. The desire she felt from that first moment, the pounding heat that coursed through her blood, made her behave as she might not normally. What was it about this man? The pure animal magnetism she couldn’t resist, didn’t really want to.
Muscles rippled erotically under his flesh as he moved—and oh! did he know how to move. Roark danced closer, until his toned stomach was in her face. Her hands itched to touch him, but she was too afraid to move. There was something all too primal about this man. He was like a caged animal on the brink of escaping.
He slowly pulled down his zipper. The thick tip of his cock peeked out at her, straining to be free of its leather confines. When he looked down at her, his lashes fell low over his dark, penetrating gaze. He was breathing hard, though she doubted a man in his fine shape would be worn out from the seductive moves.
Natasha couldn’t stop her hands from reaching forward. His body still rocked in time to the music, though not as aggressively as before. She touched his hips, letting her fingers slide on the warm leather. Roark drew closer, swaying his cock back and forth, moving it toward her lips in silent meaning.
She slid her hands around to cup his ass. It was firm and tight beneath her fingers. Dipping along the back of his thighs, she scooted to the edge of the couch. His scent engulfed her and his heat seemed to jump off his skin onto hers. The leather pants clung to him. She pulled at the material, slowly working it off his hips. His cock seemed to lengthen more as it was freed.
Natasha looked up at him. The dim lights revealed the contrast between the rise and fall of muscles on his body. Roark reached for her face, stroking her cheek. His eyes pleaded with her to suck him off, but he didn’t make a move to force her.
It was more than she could resist. With a moan, she leaned forward, opening her mouth to pull the thick tip of his erection between her lips. She kissed him gently, twirling her tongue around the ridge. He groaned in approval. She pulled back, teasing him as she nibbled her teeth up and down the sides before latching on to him once more. Her hands glided over the leather, caressing his perfect thighs.
Damn, he tasted good!
Natasha sucked him a little deeper. The techno music continued, the beat changing slightly. She kept rhythm, rolling her tongue along his shaft, rimming the firm ridge in circles.
“Ah, a thaisce, you look so sexy like that,” he said. She saw his stomach tighten as his breath caught. “So prim and proper in your suit and bun, and yet your gorgeous lips just beg to be fucked. It’s a huge turn-on.”
Natasha moaned, her mouth full
of his cock. Her lips moved faster, sucking harder. Roark continued to talk, seemingly unashamed as he vocalized how sexy she was, how hot she made him, how he wanted to come down in her lovely throat and watch her drink him up.
He pumped his hips forward, slipping deeper until he hit the back of her mouth. She kept her hands on his hips, trying to set the pace while enjoying the feel of his trim body. Roark grabbed his extra length, running his fist over what she couldn’t fit. Her lips hit his fist and she couldn’t help but stare at the exotic sight of watching him jack off as she sucked him.
“Ah, shit!” Roark growled. “Oh, yeah, baby, just like that. Take me in deep. Get me nice and wet with that sweet mouth of yours. Mmm!”
Roark stiffened, grunting as he came hard. She drank down his seed, loving the salty-sweet taste of him. Natasha pulled back, looking up.
Grabbing her by the arms, Roark pulled her to her feet in front of him. “I can’t believe I haven’t kissed you yet.”
Before she could respond, his mouth captured hers. He moaned, exploring the depths of her mouth with his tongue—probing, tasting, conquering. Roark pressed his body to hers and she felt his thick arousal against her. He was still hard and ready.
How in the world…?
Lightheaded, she pulled her mouth from his. “Roark…”
“Shh, a thaisce,” he murmured along her throat as he nipped at her fervent pulse. “Just go with it.”
In the back of her mind, she wondered how he retained his size after such a hard orgasm. His kisses felt so good, she couldn’t form a coherent thought. The man was more than well-endowed and her jaw ached from the thickness of him.
“There is just something about you,” he admitted. “Since I first saw you standing on my porch, I can’t seem to think of anything but you.”
“It’s only been a few hours,” she reminded him.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re amazing.”
Roark jerked her suit jacket off her shoulders. The cooler air hit her through the silk, instantly bringing relief to her overheated body. Suddenly, he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up on his shoulder. Natasha squealed as he carted her off in caveman fashion down the hall. He maneuvered easily around the boxes.
His hands roamed over the back of her legs as he walked and his breathing was harsh. Turning a corner, he brought her to a darkened room. She shivered, unable to see. Just as she was about to ask where they were, she was tossed into the air. Yelping in surprise, she landed on her back on a soft feather-top mattress. A cotton comforter molded to her body. The bed shifted with Roark’s weight and she reached for him, instantly hitting a naked thigh in the dark. She ran her hand along the curve of his ass. He’d taken off the pants.
“Your stockings have to go,” he said, his voice thick. It would seem whenever he was highly aroused, his voice would develop a softened burr to his words, reminiscent of a light Irish accent.
Natasha lay on her back. Suddenly, his hand dove up her skirt, only to hold on to her inner thigh. She wasn’t sure how he managed so smoothly, but he ran his finger down her leg, ripping the material with his nail. Her heels were still on her feet and he left them as he reached her ankles. Delving up her skirt again, he ripped her hose on the other side.
“Mmm, much better.” Sitting between her legs, he lifted a foot and slid off her shoe. He kissed her toes, working his way up her foot to her leg, removing the tattered stocking from her leg as he went—nibbling, biting, soothing. An animalistic growl sounded in the back of his throat, primitive and raw. When he reached her inner thigh, he began the process over with her other foot, kissing up her leg, flicking his tongue over her heated flesh.
She wished she could see his face, but the darkness hid him from view. He slid his hands along flesh, ridding her of the tattered stockings completely. Roark breathed lightly on her flesh, settling between her thighs. She tried to close her knees, but he growled, shoving them back open.
Her skirt was around her waist, leaving her vulnerable to his whims. Roark moaned, kissing the crease where her inner thigh met her hip. Natasha was suddenly very glad she’d decided to wear lace panties that morning.
“So wet,” he whispered, rubbing his face along her panties. Nails scraped along her panty line, coming to her crotch. Pulling, he cut through the material. “So hot.”
“How…?” she asked, only to gasp as his warm lips covered her aching bud.
Very few men had ventured down on her and none had enjoyed doing it as much as Roark obviously did. He groaned in pleasure, tasting her and showing no shame in enjoying it. Her body shook with pleasure, as it flowed from her pussy over her limbs, encircling her hard nipples. She grabbed her breasts, arching her hips for more. The silk of her shirt slid over her lace bra. He nicked her with his teeth, only to suck and lick the playful wound.
As his tongue slipped down over her folds, holding them open, she felt it reach inside her. She gasped, feeling him lick her intimately. The man knew how to wiggle his tongue, fast and hard and deep, as he found the sweet spot hidden in her depths.
Natasha rode his mouth, as he tongue-fucked her. His groans turned to primal growls, like a beast dining on flesh. He became more aggressive, nicking her with his teeth, reaching higher into her depths. Fingernails gripped into her thighs, holding her open as wide as her legs could spread. Desperate, she reached above her head, gripping the soft comforter.
His mouth moved back up her slit to find the hard bundle of nerves hidden along her top arch. As he thrust a thick finger into her pussy to replace his hot tongue, he worked it back and forth, only to pull it back out when it was wet with her cream. Boldly, and without any hesitation, he drew his finger down to the tight rosette between her cheeks, pressing against her virgin ass. Natasha cried out in surprise, gasping as he rimmed her anus.
“Ah, shit.” His voice was raspy and urgent. “You’ve never been taken here, have you?”
She shook her head.
“How is it possible with an ass as nice as yours? Don’t worry, love, you’re with a real man now. I’ll show you what you’ve been missing. I’m going to fuck this ass of yours real good.”
The revelation only seemed to arouse him more. He pushed his finger deeper, sending intense shock waves through her at the forbidden touch. Growling, he renewed his attention on her pussy, fucking her with his tongue and finger in both openings. Soon another finger joined the first, and then a third, working her, stretching her, preparing her ass for his cock.
Natasha moaned weakly, helpless, as he had his way with her. Nothing in her life had felt like this. Old sensations, ones she needed to suppress, tried to surge forth. She denied them, only accepting the pleasure he gave and not making anything more out of what was happening. Her stomach tightened and she cried out in surprise as her orgasm hit her like a sudden burst of flames, making her hot and cold at once. Her only answer was his growl. He continued to move, stroking her, until he’d milked every tremor from her body. When her legs fell weakly onto the bed, he finally pulled back.
Chapter Four
Roark sat back on the bed. He saw Natasha easily in the darkness, as he pierced it with his inborn lycan vision. It was clear by the look on her face that she couldn’t see him. He was glad. It was why he brought her to the dark bedroom. The beast within him wanted to play, and play it had, coming to the surface as she rode his hand and mouth.
Damn, but her ass was so tight, squeezing down on him as he thrust into it.
His cock was full, straining for attention. The problem was, in his state of desire it had grown larger than before. Humans were fragile, not meant to take the beast. Sure, there were a few who could, mostly of the porn star persuasion, but Natasha was no porn star.
What would she do if she saw him half shifted? Would she be into it? Would she scream and run away from him? No, it was better to leave her in the dark for now. Let her trust him first, and then he’d show her.
“Roark?” she whispered. “Is everything all right?”
> He realized he’d been dead quiet, not moving and not touching her in an effort to regain control. “Yeah, a thaisce.”
“I like it when you call me that,” she admitted. The shyness in her tone would be his undoing. He reached for her, rubbing his hand up her leg. “What does it mean?”
“My treasure,” he said absently. His hand had a single-minded purpose as he reached up to her breast. She still wore her shirt. Without thinking, he grabbed it and ripped it open. Buttons flew and he heard the faintest pings as they landed on the floor. Then, easily shifting a tiny bit to grow a claw at the end of his fingertip, he sliced her bra down the middle, freeing her surprisingly large breasts. The bra had hidden their true size from him. He didn’t care about the clothing. He could well afford to replace anything he destroyed. As fast as it came, the claw disappeared.
Roark licked his lips, narrowing in on her body’s response as he touched a naked breast. A shiver worked over her, sprinkling her flesh with goose bumps. Mesmerized, he leaned forward and gently brushed his mouth across her erect nipple.
Natasha arched on the bed, thrusting her breast at his mouth. He flicked his tongue over her nipples, alternating passionately between the two, hardening them. Roark moaned, as if feeling the life-force in her as he touched her. A light energy seemed to hum between them, but he knew it was only his imagination, his strong need to mark her with his scent.
Crawling above her, he captured her lips, careful to keep his fangs from poking her. His heart skipped around in his chest and he probed her mouth as he had her pussy, sipping her taste and testing her response. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and urged her to explore inside him as he did her.
Sitting back on his heels, he heard her gasp at the sudden departure. He breathed deeply, trying to go slow, trying to regain the control that threatened to slip from him. Everything about her hit him like a drug. “Your scent has been driving me crazy.”
“My…ah, scent?”
Roark bit back a laugh, and lied to put her at ease. “The perfume you’re wearing.”
Call of the Lycan Trilogy Bundle Page 11
