Big Bad Beast

by Shelly Laurenston

  This was usually where Dee would assume that maybe Ric was gay. With a father like he had, she could totally understand the man hiding it. Yet that didn’t make sense either because more than once she’d looked over at him and found him peering at her like she was a piece of Japanese beef begging to be sautéed in one of his pans.

  No. She felt pretty certain that being gay wasn’t the issue. Neither was Dee’s miniscule bank account and less-than-reputable family name.

  So then . . . what?

  Dee decided to ask. “We shouldn’t do this—why?”

  Ric took a step back. “We work together, Dee.” Yet he was always trying to talk her into getting naked. Damn it, the man was confusing!

  Dee took a step forward. “We’ll be discrete.”

  He cleared his throat, took another step back. “I’m your supervisor. It would be grossly inappropriate of me to take advantage of our situation.”

  She took another step forward. “We’re not full-humans who don’t understand boundaries, Ric. We both know we would never ruin our working relationship over sex. And that’s all this is . . . just sex.” Really hot, sweaty sex, she was betting. Something that she hadn’t realized until this moment she needed a good dose of.

  “Right,” he said, taking another step back, and slamming his perfect ass into the counter behind him. “Just sex. That’s great. Just sex,” he rambled on. “It’s just that—”

  Dee slammed her hands against the counter behind him on either side of his hips, caging him in with her arms and body. “It’s just . . . what?”

  “I’m more a . . . uh . . . relationship kind of guy.”

  Dee almost rolled her eyes. Was that it? He wanted a “relationship”? Well, they already had a relationship, right? They were friendly . . . damn near friends some would say. And that was good enough, wasn’t it? It had to be, because when she stepped in closer, pressing her groin into his, and she felt the length and width of the steel pipe waiting for her behind that zipper . . . she knew it would damn well have to be good enough.

  “We’re friends, Ric.”

  “I’m friends with Lock, but we’ve never—”

  “Right.” Lord, the man could be literal. “But we’re . . . special friends.” She leaned in a little closer. “And that’s the best kind of friends of all.”

  Don’t laugh, he told himself. Do not laugh.

  How she came up with “special friends” he didn’t know, but man was it lame.

  But Ric didn’t care. In less than five minutes he had Dee-Ann Smith stalking him around his kitchen and putting moves on him he’d only seen in documentaries on animal-mating rituals.

  Even better, she was leaning in and sniffing him. Considering he hadn’t showered, she should be kind of turned off, but she looked to be about seconds from rubbing her body all over his.

  “Special friends?” he repeated back to her. “Is that like special needs?”

  “Look,” she snapped when she opened her eyes and glared at him. “Let’s not make this complicated.”

  “But it is complicated, Dee-Ann. We work together, we’re friends—and,” he added in a moment of sheer brilliance, “I can’t handle another morning waking up all alone after some female has had her way with me. Only calling me when she needs me to service her—like some stud bull.”

  Dee focused her gaze over to the refrigerator, taking a moment to squeeze her eyes shut, her entire body shuddering a bit as she let that sink into her stubborn brain.

  When she seemed to be calm, her gaze returning to his, Ric added, “I just don’t want to be used anymore.”

  “Okay, okay!” Dee paused, the look on her face telling him her mind was racing, trying to convince him this was the best idea ever. God, he was good. Uncle Van would be proud. “You . . . won’t be used anymore. We’ll simply take this slow. Keep it between us, but . . . um . . .” Her gaze focused on his mouth. “You know, it’ll be like a . . .”

  “Relationship?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

  “You’ll be here when I wake up tomorrow, and you’ll let me feed you?”

  “Uh-huh. Sure.”

  Ric brought his hand up and used his fingertip to trace the lines of her mouth. “You promise, Dee-Ann?”

  Her panting worse, she said, “I promise. Promise, promise, promise.”

  “All right then,” Ric said, his finger gliding across her jaw to her ear, until his hand slid into her hair and gripped it hard, pulling her head back a little so he would have a better angle on her mouth.

  “As long as you promise,” he whispered, before he took her mouth and made it his.

  Wait. Hold it. When did she lose control here?

  She had no clue, but when both his hands held her head and he kissed her with that much intensity, she stopped caring. Instead, she let him kiss her like that, her body pulled tight into his.

  His tongue swirled around hers, teasing, engaging until he pulled back slightly.

  “I have to take a shower,” he said, his lips brushing against hers with each word.

  “A shower?” Now?

  “I didn’t get a chance after practice.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “You’ll join me.” He grabbed hold of her hand and stepped away from the counter, pulling her behind him as he walked out of the kitchen. “Two birds, one stone.”

  Together they walked down the long hallway until they entered his big bedroom with the astoundingly big bed.

  “Is that the bear-sized queen?” she finally asked, seeing as she’d always wondered.

  “Yes. I thought about going for the bear-sized king, but I was afraid I’d end up in the middle and get lost forever.”

  She chuckled as he led her to the ultra-bright and clean bathroom.

  Still holding her hand, Ric pressed a button beside the enclosed shower and five of the seven heads inside burst to life, a little digital readout next to the button stating that the temperature was a warm seventy-eight degrees.

  The man certainly did like his luxuries.

  He turned toward her and finally released her hand, but that’s when he started stripping her naked. He slid her jacket off her shoulders and untucked her T-shirt from her jeans. He stepped in closer, eyes locked on hers, and reached around her, removing the sheathe that held her bowie knife and the holster that held her gun. He placed those carefully on the counter and returned to her. He gripped the bottom of her T-shirt and lifted it up and over her head, letting it drop to the floor. With his finger he unhitched the front clasp of her bra and used both hands to push the cups aside.

  Ric stared at her for a long moment, his eyes feasting on her before he slowly brought his hands up and palmed her breasts, stopping to squeeze.

  Dee’s eyes closed, her toes curling inside her boots. He squeezed again and Dee’s panting began to fill the enormous bathroom along with the sound of the running shower.

  “I’m sorry,” he said politely before moving his hands away from her breasts and down to her waist. “I simply can’t wait.” Then he leaned over and caught one of her nipples in his mouth. Dee’s panting turned to groaning, her head falling back, her hands reaching over and gripping his shoulders.

  He sucked and toyed at the hard bud with his lips and tongue, his fingers digging into her flesh. Her hips began to move, slowly tipping forward in time with each tug and suck of her nipple.

  Ric released the one he was working on and moved to the other while one of his hands moved away from her waist and went to the button of her jeans. He opened it and unzipped the fly. He pulled her closer with the hand still on her waist and tugged at her jeans until they dropped to her feet. His hand slid between her legs and cupped her pussy, one finger teasing her clit through her black cotton panties.

  Now Dee’s groaning became little yelps, her hips moving against his hand, her mind completely overwhelmed by the mouth on her breast.

  She was moments from coming. She knew it, he knew it. That’s why he pressed his thumb hard against
her clit and made little circular motions until Dee’s grip on Ric’s shoulders nearly took flesh off.

  “God,” she panted out, not caring she was blaspheming. “God, yes! Right . . . right there . . .”

  That orgasm ripped through her, her claws unleashing and imbedding into Ric’s shoulders, her body shaking with the force of it.

  She kept coming, the power of it rolling through her in a nonstop wave. “Yes!”

  Okay, Dee would never say she actually blacked out there for a minute, but she would say that maybe she had a few seconds of . . . um . . . severe lack of consciousness?

  Claws tearing into his shoulders had never felt so good before.

  Dee’s body went slack in his arms, her claws sliding out of his skin. Ric lifted his head, releasing her nipple as he did, watching her eyes flutter open. She looked around the bathroom until her gaze slowly settled on his.

  Ric smiled, feeling a tremendous moment of connection. A moment that Dee didn’t seem to appreciate very much as her hand wrapped around his throat and cut off his ability to breathe. She pulled him up until they were eye to eye.

  “You really think you’re cute, don’t you?”

  He tried to tell her that yes, he did think he was quite cute. Adorable, even! But she was gripping his throat in such a way as to ensure maximum loss of breathing, swallowing, and speaking. It was a technique taught at the Group but Dee had come in with the skill already learned.

  Her muscles bunching and tensing, Dee shoved Ric into the wall. His back slammed hard, but he kept his head from hitting anything that would cause permanent damage or coma. He coughed and rubbed his throat, bending over a little at the waist.

  Now that he could speak, he said, “You’re being unreason—”

  She stood in front of him now completely naked, the rest of her clothes pulled off and kicked all around his bathroom.

  “Do you really think you can handle me?” she demanded, grabbing a fistful of his T-shirt and twisting. “Are you so sure you wanna try?”

  Did it make him weird that he was quite sure? That he had no doubts? Even with her looking like she was about to snap his neck and then dismember his body in the running shower where she wouldn’t have to worry about all the blood?

  “Give me your best shot,” he heard himself say, and he briefly wondered when he’d lost his ability to reason. Especially when he was always so reasonable. Or perhaps he’d lost his will to live. Had he begun to think that living was overrated? Maybe. On a bad day.

  The truth was, however, he knew he couldn’t back down now, nor did he want to. The idea was to lure Dee-Ann Smith with the chase, then go toe-to-toe with her.

  “Just look at the brave little rich boy,” she murmured.

  “Well, I do have excellent medical care and doctors willing to make house calls so I can afford to be brave.”

  “That’s good,” she said, unleashing her claws. “ ’Cause by the time I’m done, I’m guessin’ you’ll need all that.”

  Dee shredded Van Holtz’s T-shirt until she had nothing between her and all that hard, muscled flesh. He didn’t have many scars on his chest. Barely any. All his scars were on his hands from years of working in one of the many Van Holtz kitchens and training since he could breathe on how to use those fancy knives to cut up animals into pretty little pieces.

  And, honestly, Dee kind of liked that lack of imperfection. She liked how smooth his hard body was. A very nice counterpoint to her own. To all the scars she’d picked up over the years from those trying to kill her—or those who’d fought back when she’d tried to kill them.

  She placed her hands flat on his chest, right at the center, his heartbeat strong and healthy beneath her fingers.

  Lord, she’d have to be careful with this one. Because she could get used to all this. The nice bathroom. This amazing body at her disposal. The way he smiled when he looked at her. It was such a sweet smile, like she delighted him somehow.

  Dee leaned in and pressed her mouth against his throat while she lightly dragged claws across his chest. Van Holtz groaned, his hands reaching for her. She tongued her way up his throat, pressing her breasts into his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders.

  “I want you,” she told him plain. “Here. Now.”

  Laughing and groaning at the same time, he half-heartedly pointed at the shower. “It’s not even five feet away.”

  “Later.” Because she had to have him now.

  Dee pulled at his jeans, trying to get them off, about to release her claws to do to his jeans what she’d already done to his T-shirt. But Ric caught her hands with one of his own and used the other to press against her forehead.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking for the fever.” It was the way their bodies sometimes healed, but Dee knew she’d already bounced back from the cut on her arm and the loss of blood. In fact, she felt great! And horny!

  “That little faith in yourself, Van Holtz?” she had to tease.

  “I just wanted to be sure. I do not want any complaints in the morning.”

  “Do I pass inspection?” she asked when he pulled his hand away from her forehead.

  “You do. So please”—he gestured to the lower half of his body—“continue removing my jeans.”

  She held her hand up, unleashed her claws.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, stepping away from the wall. “I’ll remove them myself. So impatient,” he muttered.

  Dee watched Ric push his jeans down before kicking them and his sneakers and socks off. When he stood tall, she was right behind him, her groin pressing into his ass. She wrapped her arm around his neck, her lips against his nape, her free hand smoothing around his hip until she could reach his cock. She grasped it in her hand, fingers tightening until he gasped, his head turning, his mouth meeting hers.

  She stroked him, running her thumb over the head until he pulled away from her. “Get on the floor,” he ordered her. Then he stopped, squeezed his eyes shut, and added, “Please.”

  Unable to keep from laughing, Dee stretched out on the floor, watching as Ric tore through the cabinet under his sink. “They’re in here,” he promised. “I swear. They’re in here.”

  He was halfway inside the damn thing when she heard him cheer, “Yes!” That was also when he tried to stand before he was out of the cabinet, his head colliding with the sink pipe. “Ow!”

  Ric muttered what may have been cuss words as he crawled back out, but he held a box of condoms.

  “Give me that,” Dee said, sitting up and snatching it from his hand. “Don’t want to take the chance you’ll damage these, too.”

  “I’m usually smoother than this,” he told her, his hand rubbing the back of his poor head. “Usually.”

  “Yeah. And sometimes I can be downright chatty.” She opened the box of condoms and pulled one out. She ripped open the packaging and caught hold of Ric’s cock with her hand. It was already hard, so she didn’t have to worry about that. Instead she focused on getting the condom on him and his cock inside her. That’s the only thing she wanted at the moment—and she’d be damned if she didn’t get it.

  Ric watched Dee-Ann roll the condom down his cock. Once she did that, she looked at him and smiled. “See?” she asked. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

  And that’s when Ric basically . . . well . . . lost it.

  All that culture and breeding and education meant very little when faced with the sexiest woman in the world. A woman who wanted him.

  Ric caught hold of Dee’s face between his hands and kissed her while the rest of his body forced hers to the floor. She opened her thighs to him and he was between them and inside of her in seconds, the feel of her wet heat wrapping around his cock nearly killing him, it was so intense.

  He froze, his body overwhelmed by the woman he was in. The woman he loved. And she had no idea. To her this was fun times with a good buddy, but to Ric this meant everything. And to find out being inside her was even better than he’d dreamed. . . .
r />   “What’s wrong?” Dee asked. “Why’d ya stop?”

  “I’m trying for some Zen-like control here, Dee-Ann. You’re not helping.”

  “Fuck control, darlin’.” She brushed her forehead against his chin. “Fuck rules and supervisors and what’s right and what’s wrong. Fuck it all.” She pressed her lips against a little spot right under his ear. “But right now, with that big cock of yours takin’ up all that room inside my pussy, it’s time for you to fuck me.”

  Then she bit him. Not enough to break skin, not enough to mark him. But enough.

  Ric caught hold of her wrists and slammed her hands to the floor, his body rising up over Dee’s. She grinned up at him, ripping away his last bit of control.

  No matter how much they might try to hide it, a wolf was a wolf was a wolf. And Ulrich Van Holtz was a wolf. She’d known that long before now, but this just confirmed it. Because no fancy rich boy could fuck her the way Van Holtz was fucking her, his body powering into hers, over and over. Dee’s arms were pinned by her head, unable to move as Ric took what he wanted from her.

  Dee-Ann closed her eyes and let the delicious feeling of Ric being inside her take over.

  He brought his lips down to her breast, grasping a nipple and sucking it into his mouth, tugging at it. She writhed from the pressure, trying to pull her hands away from his grasp, but unable to manage.

  He moved to her other breast, this time grazing his fangs against the tip. Dee shuddered from the contact, her hips rocking up to meet each of Van Holtz’s thrusts.

  Another orgasm tore through her, making her toes curl, her fangs burst from her gums, her claws unleash. Her body shuddered and shook beneath Ric’s, a low snarl slipping past her lips.

  Ric followed right behind her, groaning into Dee’s neck, his body jerking from each ejaculation.

  When he finally crashed on top of her, his breath coming out in hard pants, his hands unable to hold her wrists any longer, Dee said, “See? Now we can take that shower.”