Scintilla

by Elizabeth Noble

  EL Corazon

  Scintilla

  by

  Elizabeth Noble

  Chapter 1

  “Keep your motor runnin’…dadaadada…down the highway…dadadaaa…born to be wiiiiild…mmm…daadadadaaaadaa…” Brandon kicked the speed of his Harley up a few notches and bypassed a truck pulling a house. He didn’t really know the words to the song he was trying to sing, but every time he mounted his bike, he belted what lyrics he did know into the wind. It was a good thing his singing was blown away, because he was an epically horrible singer.

  Traveling south on I-19, a quick check of the onboard GPS let him know he was a mere fifteen minutes from Rio Rico, Arizona. His destination was the El Corazon adult entertainment club, where according to the website, love is always an adventure, and fulfilling a dream.

  “Hmmhmmm…for aaadventure.”

  Brandon wanted an adventure, a sexual one, and he was willing to pay dearly for it. And pay dearly he did. It cost him ten grand, nearly two full weeks’ salary, but Brandon knew his vacation would be worth every penny. It wasn’t as if he lived paycheck to paycheck anyway. He wasn’t married and had no dependents. Bottom line, he could spend that kind of money occasionally if he really wanted to badly enough.

  “In a lovin’ embrace…daadaadahuumm…”

  The embrace wouldn’t be from love, but it would be hot and satisfying. He had a hard-on just thinking of what was to come. Pun intended.

  Ten thousand dollars bought him two glorious hours with the most powerful, dominant, erotic creature in the known universe—or at least the universe Brandon knew of—the werewolf. And in a BDSM adult entertainment club no less. Brandon squirmed on his seat and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

  He was going to end up splattered all over the pavement if he didn’t stop thinking about the stories he’d heard. How a werewolf’s touch—warmer than human skin—when applied in the right way to the right places, could make a man shoot his load in seconds. Brandon had paid for the full deal, knotting included. There were extra glands located at the base of the werewolf’s penis that humans didn’t have. Even in human form, a male werewolf could, with practice, engorge his glands during sex. According to the stories Brandon heard that’s when a human sex partner would experience incredible ecstasy and unbelievably intense orgasm. Such an act immersed many humans in euphoria during sex.

  At least, Brandon hoped that was true.

  The higher body temperature was true; that much Brandon knew for sure. He worked with werewolves and had shaken hands with many. Those hands were strong, hot, and agile in a way no humans could be, no matter the individual’s gender.

  Brandon shifted on his seat again, finding friction against the gently vibrating leather. Warm moisture trickled through the hair between his legs and made his skin itch. A shiver rippled down his spine. He glanced down, catching sight of the speedometer.

  “Oh, crap. One-ten. I won’t get a ticket; I’ll get a life sentence.” He eased off the gas, dropping to the posted speed—and not a moment too soon. He spotted flashing lights and vehicles pulled to the side of the road ahead of him. He hoped, he hadn’t zoomed through a speed check point. Dropping to a few miles under the speed limit, Brandon cruised by the cops and other—caught—offenders.

  It was his lucky day.

  Finally, finally, his exit loomed ahead. With his turn signal on—he didn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention now that he was so very close—Brandon changed lanes, then rode onto the off-ramp. He took two rights and a left onto a long, single-lane country road. He counted off the miles in his head. By the time he pulled up to the Spanish style building his cock was so hard within his jeans he was sure he’d have permanent marks from the zipper.

  He hoped to have more souvenir marks before the night was over.

  There was a parking spot nestled between a new pick-up and an older BMW. He guided his bike into that spot, checked his hair in the side mirror, combed his fingers through his unruly dark-red curls, and smiled at his reflection. It was as good as it was going to get.

  Brandon took a few deep breaths, rolled his shoulders, and reminded himself he’d been planning this for almost two months. Without any further thoughts or hesitation, he walked to the door, rang the buzzer, and spoke his name into the speaker. The door lock clicked and Brandon went inside.

  ◆◆◆

  Raul Fierro bolted across the rooftop, letting enough of his wolf out to clear the distance between this building and the next. He spotted the fugitive he was chasing and vaulted to the pavement. Missing the mark, he landed a few feet behind the man. The guy was fast, too fast to be human, yet he didn’t move like a werewolf. He was doused in vanilla, a common, and cheap shifter trick to hide his scent and by extension what he’d become when shifted.

  Launching at the man, Raul grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked backward. The man rolled over and kicked out. Sharp, solid hooves connected with Raul’s thigh. Like most supernatural creatures, their mythical form wasn’t always depicted accurately in books. Centaurs were a prime example. Like werewolves, they often appeared bulkier than the average human and once shifted they remained bipedal. Real centaurs weren’t half-horse, though Raul understood why the myth persisted. From the waist down they were heavily muscled, with backward jointed legs resembling the hind end of a horse. Then there were those hooves. Sharp, cloven, heavy, and nothing like those of a modern equine. Centaurs rivaled werewolves in speed and strength but lacked werewolf agility.

  A werewolf was a hunter. A centaur, like all hooved animals, were prey. Big, strong, obnoxious prey that probably wouldn’t make a good meal, but prey, nonetheless. Raul didn’t consider himself a bigoted person, but he’d never met a centaur he liked.

  Fortunately, Raul was bulked up due to his partial shift to werewolf or the blow would’ve broken his leg.

  It still knocked him back and hurt like hell.

  “Fucking centaur.”

  The centaur rolled one way and Raul the other. Raul rubbed his thigh and ignored the pain as he scrambled to his feet. Stumbling over his first few strides, he charged after the centaur and the chase was on.

  Raul followed his prey down an alley, around a corner, across a narrow street, and then into some sort of warehouse. That’s where the centaur’s luck ran out. Most of the warehouse was divided into sections that were fenced off with simple chain-link barriers that almost reached the ceiling.

  Centaurs could run like hell, but they couldn’t climb.

  Charging forward, Raul body-slammed the centaur, trapping him against the fencing. He pulled a Taser from a holster on his belt, jabbed it against the centaur’s neck and pressed the trigger. The centaur’s body arched and he bellowed. The shock wouldn’t knock him out or stop him, but it slowed him down long enough for Raul to force him face down onto the ground and slap some cuffs on his wrists and hobble his legs, careful to avoid his hooves in the process.

  When the centaur struggled and swore, Raul slammed his head into the concrete floor, rendering him unconscious. He’d have never done that to most fugitives, but centaurs had unreasonably hard bones. What would’ve cracked almost anyone else’s skull simply gave this guy a headache.

  “Fucking centaurs.” Raul hauled the man up and put him over his shoulder grunting under the strain. “Fucking heavy centaurs.” He managed to move his arm so he could see his watch. “You’re making me late for an appointment.”

  He carted the centaur to his van, deposited him in a cage and attached chains to his cuffs and hobbles for extra measure. Raul wasted no time in getting his prisoner returned to the authorities in Green Valley.

  When he arrived at the police station it was late. He’d worked for the bond company who’d hired him enough times Raul didn’t fe
el the need to wait around the extra hour for payment. He’d dump this guy and collect his fee in the morning.

  Waggling his fingers at the booking officer, Raul said, “Can I just sign him over?”

  “Got a hot date, Fierro?” Janey Lamb—and she was anything but meek and mild—chided.

  “Something like that.” Raul grinned and added, “I’ll come back for my cuffs tomorrow. Keep a close eye on him. He’s a centaur and not afraid to use those hooves.”

  “Moonlighting can be a bitch.” Janey entered some information into her computer then moved a few feet to a printer when sheets of paper rolled out. She stamped one and handed it to Raul, stowing the others in a drawer in her desk.

  “Thanks, darlin’.”

  “Your charms don’t work on me.” She waved at him as he turned to leave the police station. “Good job and I hope your night works out.”

  Raul gave her a mock salute and strode out the door to his van. Tossing the paper onto the passenger seat he started the van, put it in gear and was on his way. He took the back roads. He could drive faster that way, cutting time off his travel without worry of encountering traffic—or police who might want to give him a speeding ticket.

  He pulled into the parking lot and spotted a few unknown vehicles among the regulars which meant his client was probably already here.

  “Figures.”

  He jogged around to the employee entrance at the back of the building and slipped inside, then down the hall to the employee lounge. Men’s and women’s locker rooms with showers were off the common area.

  Raul slipped into the locker room and stripped out of his old jeans and stained, ratty gray shirt. He pulled black leather pants and a vest from his locker.

  “You’re late,” his cousin, Tadeo drawled. He made exaggerated sniffing noises. “And you’re a little—what’s the word? Gamey.”

  Raul turned around. “I don’t have time to shower and he’s a human, he’ll think I’m manly smelling.”

  “Ooww… what the hell happened to you?” Tadeo took a few steps in Raul’s direction and motioned to his thigh. “That looks painful.”

  “It is. My fugitive was a centaur.”

  Tadeo winced. “You shouldn’t stand behind them. They kick.”

  “Thank you.” Raul pulled the vest on and buttoned all the carved, silver buttons. “What did you do with him?”

  “Who?”

  Raul stepped into the leather pants, fitted them over his hips and fastened his fly with buttons that matched those on his vest.

  “My client!”

  “Oh, him.” Tadeo gave him a mischievous smirk. “I put him in a playroom, let enough wolf out to watch him squirm, told him to take off everything but his jeans and stand in the corner. Then I turned the lights out.”

  Raul choked back a laugh. “You’re a jerk.”

  “You laughed. What does that make you?” Tad shrugged. “He’ll think it’s all part of the experience.”

  Raul ignored the question and took a few steps to the large, three panel mirror turning so he had a good view of his ass.

  Tadeo jumped forward, smacked Raul’s right cheek and danced out of reach, laughing. “No, your ass doesn’t look fat. It’s round and makes me want to drool.”

  Chasing after Tadeo he shoved against his shoulders.

  “You’re really a jerk.”

  “And you’re late. That poor kid has been standing in a corner for a half hour.” Tadeo clapped Raul’s shoulder. “Go get ‘em, tiger…uh… wolfie.”

  Raul flipped Tadeo off and walked backward to the locker room door. He pushed the door shut on Tadeo’s cackling laughter.

  ◆◆◆

  Brandon was too nervous to try looking at his watch. He wiggled his toes against the cool concrete and wondered how long it’d been. His cock was still painfully full, and his balls were so tight he worried they might just split apart.

  When the door opened and clicked shut again, he jumped. The lights were turned up to a soft glow. An intoxicating scent of leather mixed with a slight bit of sweat swirled around Brandon.

  “Is that too bright?” A rough, deep voice asked.

  Brandon’s heart rate kicked up a notch.

  “N-no.”

  “No, what?”

  Taking a deep breath, Brandon immediately answered, “No, sir.”

  “Turn ‘round.”

  Brandon nodded and carefully turned around. Feeling a little weak in his knees, he took in the sight before him. Dressed in well-worn black leather, the man had dark, slightly mussed hair, broad shoulders and muscular arms that weren’t overly bulky. The V neckline of his leather vest showed off a dusting of dark hair that likely covered his chest. Between the gap in the vest and his low-slung pants was a strip of dark hair that drew Brandon’s attention. Brandon couldn’t help focusing on the werewolf’s deep navel. His pants stretched over thick thighs and were no doubt cut to particularly show off the package between his legs.

  A dark, five o’clock shadow accentuated his cheekbones, but it was his rakish grin and glowing copper eyes that took Brandon’s breath away.

  The werewolf cocked his head and asked, “Are you old enough to do this?”

  “Y-yes, sir. I’m twenty-five. I gave my ID at the desk.”

  “Where is it?”

  Brandon nodded at the pile of clothes in a square, plastic basket in one corner.

  “My phone and wallet are under my shirt.”

  “May I?”

  “Yes.”

  The werewolf moved the shirt and pulled out Brandon’s wallet, opening it and then scrutinizing Brandon’s driver’s license. He replaced everything, and Brandon noticed how he carefully refolded Brandon’s shirt.

  “Sorry, but I like to verify things myself sometimes. Minors do try to sneak in here. I’m Raul.”

  “Brandon.”

  Raul nodded and motioned to the basket. “I know.”

  Feeling a blush work up his neck, Brandon stared at the floor.

  “I get it a lot. People always think I’m a kid.”

  Raul used two fingers in a ‘come here’ motion.

  “Get out of the corner.”

  The words were phrased as an order, but the tone of his voice was calm and kind.

  “I apologize for being late,” Raul said. “A previous appointment ran over.”

  “It’s okay. Waiting was sort of thrilling.”

  “No, it’s not. We’ll do a bit extra to make up for it. You’re going to have to get closer to me if we’re going to do anything. Stand in the middle of the room, let me get a look at you.”

  Shaking his arms to help warm his hands, Brandon walked to the center of the room. First, he crossed his arms over his chest, then he stuck his hands in his pockets and a few seconds later he pulled his hands back out and let his arms dangle awkwardly at his sides. Next to this imposing man, Brandon felt like he had when he went to college at fifteen. A scrawny, skinny fifteen.

  Raul stood and watched him the entire time. When Brandon began shifting his weight from foot to foot Raul pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

  “Stop fidgeting.”

  He pulled a piece of paper from a small rack near the door and read it over. “According to the questionnaire you filled out you want the full deal. Are you a virgin?”

  “No, sir. But I’ve only ever been with humans.”

  Nodding, Raul leaned back against a padded bench and crossed his ankles.

  “We’ll go as far as you can take it, but…” he held up one finger and stared intently at Brandon. “Some males, even if they’re werewolf simply can’t tolerate the complete thing. No shame in that. If you need to stop, we stop. If I think you can’t take it, we stop.” He turned his attention to the paper once again.

  “You can do that, stop if you’re knotted?” The question burst out of Brandon before he could stop it.

  “Yeah. I’m a professional. I train.”

  “How?”

  Raul looked up, an expre
ssion of surprise and maybe amusement, all over his face.

  “How do you think?”

  “I—uh.” Brandon shut his mouth before he made a complete fool out of himself.

  Raul smiled and chuckled.

  “All females, human, werewolf, selkie, centaur, leprechaun they seem made for it and the majority enjoy a wolf partner. Though, honestly selkies…” he shuddered. “No, just no. Anyway, my point is, we males aren’t made for this particular activity and not all can follow through. Don’t be afraid to tell me to stop. I’ve plenty of other skills you’ll appreciate. The main point is you enjoy our time together, that’s what you’re paying for. Not to be hurt.”

  “Understood,” Brandon said. When Raul arched an eyebrow again Brandon added, “Sir.”

  “Continuing on… you said yes to slings, ropes, paddling, no caning—thank you, I don’t like that at all. Mild choking, but no head gear or masks. What about blindfolds?”

  “I think since I’ve never done this before I’d like to see what goes on,” Brandon admitted. “Sir.”

  “Okay. Mouth gags?”

  “Not the big ball kind, but other sorts I might like, sir.”

  Raul snickered. “Those balls make my jaws ache just looking at them.” His face elongated to exhibit a hint of snout. “And I’ve got serious jaws.”

  That made Brandon laugh and relax.

  “Finally. I was worried you’d be strung this tight and stiff the entire time. I might be a big, bad wolf but I like repeat customers,” Raul said. He stood straight and leaned to the side far enough to return the paper to its holder. “Anything else I should know?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do you have a safe word, or do you want me to assign you one?”

  “Calico,” Brandon said.

  Raul threw his head back and laughed. “I love it! We’re going to have a fun time. I like you, kid. This’ll be fun. Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Chapter 2

  Raul took a deep breath, removed his vest, and hung it on a hook near the door before he swung his arms back and forth a few times. He stood behind Brandon and closed his eyes for a few seconds, calming himself and gathering his thoughts. Raul’s slow, even breaths were a sharp contrast to Brandon’s ragged ones. Brandon was naked other than the pelvis harness that fitted nicely over his hips. Raul had positioned him against a Saint Andrews cross with his arms stretched wide. There were loose restraints around his wrists and he gripped handholds. Raul rarely immobilized new clients, that would come after they got to know each other better, or if his partner wasn’t a client and was into that sort of thing.