by Tina Donahue
Surrender is the only option she desires.
Taming the Beast, Book 3
No one believes that under the tough attitude and schoolgirl fashion sense, reformed demon Zoe burns for a man, love, and sex. She keeps those urges on ice and well hidden. She sold her soul for a guy once, and all it got her was a one-way ticket to Hell.
Her job, keeping supernatural creatures in line at From Crud to Stud, is all work and no play. Until she’s saddled with a trio of new enforcers who ooze so much sexual heat she’s afraid to be on the same planet with them.
Stefin, Anatol, and Taro try to contain their laughter as their adorable new boss tries to lay down the law. Apparently, no one told her they don’t take orders. They give them. And they’re determined to smooth her rough edges and tame her beast with acts so wanton they’ll make her scream—for more.
Talk about all hell breaking loose. Surrender won’t come easily, but given their devilish charm and her aching need, her journey to submission is one done deal.
Warning: Contains an unholy trio of demons who don’t like to take turns. Break room…snacking. After-hours…training sessions. In other words, a sensual ride on the pleasure express. Features m/f/m/m sex in every flavor except vanilla. Bring. It. On.
Mastering the Beast
Tina Donahue
Dedication
To bad boys who know how to be good.
Chapter One
Zoe stormed down the hall, ready to rumble. Tonight’s shift had barely started and it had already turned physical.
Minutes earlier, she’d escorted a vamp to a treatment room. He’d given her a toothy grin in thanks and then sunk his fangs into her neck. A definite no-no at From Crud to Stud, a makeover service for supernatural beings. He and the others were here to tame their beasts so they could date mortal babes.
After briefly tonguing her skin, he’d gagged and recoiled. “Damn, you taste like hell.”
Well, duh. What had he expected from a demon? Even a reformed one like she was, who’d forsaken her supernatural powers to embrace the mortal way of doing things. In other words, suffering like the rest of the poor slobs.
For the vamp’s snotty comment, Zoe had rammed the heel of her shoe into his foot, wrestled him to the treatment table and strapped him in so he’d never get free, not even if he turned into a freaking bat. His frustrated hiss had mingled with howls from weres, grunts from zombies, and the wail of a reaper as they fought their beastly natures.
Lovely sounds, ordinarily. However, tonight something was off, the evening heavy with tension that warned of danger…similar to when another demon approached.
Wary, Zoe checked the last two treatment rooms. Both were empty, the walls bearing claw marks from former inhabitants.
Hmm. Maybe she was overreacting due to the time of year. Tomorrow was Halloween, the dumbest and most inaccurate holiday ever. Heather, a good fairy, had decorated her reception desk with fake cobwebs, skulls and spiders.
Zoe resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Heather smiled adoringly at Daemon, a former satyr. He’d come to the service more than a year ago to ditch his horns, tail and hooves so he’d look fully human. Not only did he work here now, he lived with Heather and MJ, a genie who was also on staff, all of them lovers. They laughed easily, shared whispers and touched each other with tenderness and respect.
A pang of loneliness tightened Zoe’s chest, her body tense with unexpected longing.
She shook it off and turned away from Heather and Daemon. Love wasn’t what Zoe needed or could risk. She’d learned that brutal truth centuries ago when she’d lived in Salem and had wanted one guy—just one—more than life itself. What a hot mess that had turned out to be, especially after she’d sold her soul to get his love. Talk about false advertising. What she’d ended up with was a one-way ticket to Hell along with Satan’s negligent shrug. “It all boils down to free will,” he’d explained. “What can I do if the guy doesn’t want you?”
Louse.
No way would she ever fall for another man. She’d sworn off them and sex even though celibacy was killing her. Especially tonight. Why?
“Zoe.” Becca, the witch who owned this place, motioned her to the other hall. “Can we have a word in my office?”
That same edgy feeling returned and grew stronger. Zoe glanced over both shoulders, expecting to see another demon ready to pounce from behind the feathery ferns or potted plants that adorned the reception area.
No one was there. The room was decorated to be inviting and romantic like the New Orleans of old with coral walls, gas wall fixtures and a faux brick floor.
“Now?” Becca coaxed and led the way.
In her office, she gestured Zoe to the needlepoint sofa that faced her antique desk. On the cabinet behind it were numerous photos of Becca and Eric, a minor god she’d met and had fallen in love with when he’d come here for treatment.
A new wave of melancholy hit along with dread. Zoe wondered if another staffer had found a guy and now he was going to work here like Daemon, with that cutting even deeper into her territory. The only thing she had.
Squaring her shoulders, Zoe refused to sit and got ready to defend her turf.
Becca smiled cautiously as if she wasn’t certain what to do, the same way she practiced witchcraft. Poor thing was unable to concoct a decent potion to save her soul. If not for her mom’s help with spells, Becca would have been shit outta luck.
Zoe sighed and decided to help her out. “Is this about Constance?” She was their resident voodoo priestess and liked men, big time. It was a miracle she hadn’t been the first of them to hook up.
“Constance?” Becca frowned slightly. “What about her?”
“Shouldn’t she be in here too?” To gush about her news.
“No. She’s with a client, removing some of his memories.”
Probably of a former girlfriend. “So she’s with the guy she’s in love with.”
“Love?” Becca leaned close, hand on her chest. “Oh my God, is she dating someone? What have you heard?”
Confused, Zoe shook her head. “Nothing. I thought you knew something and wanted to tell me about it in here.”
“Oh…no.” She made a face and then lost it. “This is about business. We’ve been really swamped this year, so I’ve decided to expand. I’ve already talked to the building’s owner about taking over the entire floor, renovating it for our use.”
Zoe’s tension drained away. “Cool. You want me to keep the workers in line in between my other stuff?” She slammed her fist against her palm. “I’ll be happy to.”
Becca stopped fingering the edge of her short red hair. “I don’t want you to keep killing yourself by working so hard.”
“How could I do that?’ She frowned. “I’m immortal.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Becca waved her hand dismissively. “I want you to enjoy your work.”
That funny feeling returned, making Zoe queasy. “Who says I don’t? Oh, hey, is this about Daemon horning in on more of my stuff? Uh-uh. He’s already keeping the clients in line for the other staff. I don’t need him to do that for me. I’m capable. Hell, I’m a better enforcer than him. I do not want—”
“No problem,” Becca cut in and then blurted, “Stefin, Anatol and Taro will be here for that from now on.”
Footfalls suddenly rang in the hall. Three men who looked to be in their early thirties strode into Becca’s office, their movements fluid and assured, each of them dressed in black, their shirts made of silk, th
eir boots and pants dressy, like bouncers at an elite club.
No one was boogying in here, especially Zoe as she caught the unholy trio’s faint sulfur scent. Oh shit. Pinpoints of flame flared briefly in their eyes, proving they were demons. The trouble she’d sensed earlier.
Too stunned to speak or to move, she simply stared.
The guy in the middle was easily six-three and nicely muscular with blond shoulder-length hair, his rough good looks, bronze complexion and stubble virile to the extreme. There was a hint of sin, dangerous and predatory, in his light gray eyes.
Her belly fluttered at the thought of him on top of her, his strong legs pushing hers apart, his hand sliding up her—
She stopped before completing the smutty thought, noticing the ornate tat on the back of his left hand. A stylized goat’s head…the mark of the devil.
He winked.
Zoe’s legs went watery, disquiet and lust rolling through her. Ignoring both, she turned to the guy on his right and had to lock her knees again to keep standing. Equally tall and powerfully built, he was simply beautiful with rich-chocolate skin, dark eyes and long hair worn in dreadlocks that would feel awesome gliding across her naked boobs and thighs.
Stop it.
Zoe tried to push her X-rated fantasies away and steel herself against his allure.
He smiled. A freaking dimple dented his right cheek. His grin was an unusual mixture of boyish mischief and raw sensuality that creamed her pussy.
Tearing her attention from him, she studied the last guy. Hot didn’t begin to describe his masculine features, deep-blue eyes and thick, wavy hair a dark shade of auburn. Those locks trialed past his ears and curled at the base of his neck. His stubble called to everything female within Zoe, the same as his height, big body and the assured way he regarded her.
Beneath the enticing fragrance of sulfur, she caught their musky scents, wanton and unashamed, surely the same fragrance as their cocks. She imagined their shafts jutting from nests of blond, black or auburn curls, their balls meaty and lightly furred.
The room spun.
“Guys,” Becca said, “this is Zoe.”
Becca’s introduction seemed to have come from miles away. Zoe tried to respond but only managed a noise somewhere between a grunt and a groan.
Becca edged closer. “Zoe, this is Anatol.” She gestured to the black hunk with the dimple. “Stefin.” The blond god in the middle winked again. “And Taro.” The blue-eyed hottie continued to regard her intensely. “They’re our new enforcers.”
Each of them looked as if he’d been in charge forever and wouldn’t budge one damn inch for anyone, especially a female demon.
“You’ll be working with them from now on,” Becca added.
Working with or for, as in taking orders, yearning helplessly and then losing out as she had with the last man in her life?
Like hell.
Stefin wasn’t certain what to make of this.
Wisps of smoke rose from Zoe’s narrow shoulders and the ends of her long black hair, the scent a delightful mixture of sulfur and female musk that fed his devilish desire, thickening his cock, plumping his balls.
Was the smoke Zoe’s way of showing her lust and willingness to submit?
Stefin considered it for a moment and decided it had to be.
What a delicious display for a demon, innocent yet also provocative, the same as the rest of her. She was slender as a waif, surely no more than five feet, her exceedingly pale complexion decorated with a series of facial piercings. Two silver studs across the bridge of her nose, four in her plush lower lip, several rings in her dark eyebrows and one in her left nostril. Despite that heavy-metal look, she was dressed like a religious schoolgirl in a white, long-sleeved blouse, green plaid skirt that fell to mid-calf, anklet socks and saddle oxfords.
Curious about that get-up, Stefin leaned toward Becca. “Is she of age?”
Becca mumbled, “Twenty-five in mortal years.”
“How old is she supernaturally?”
“None of your damn business,” Zoe suddenly said, throaty as all get out, a big voice for such a small girl. She crossed the space that separated them, the top of her head barely reaching his pecs. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still in this room. I can hear you, mister.”
Whoa. What a firecracker, calling him mister rather than master. Not that it mattered. In very little time, he’d train her to show the proper respect for the Dom he was, submitting to his carnal hunger, her nudity displayed for his use and their pleasure.
At the moment, he enjoyed her arousal. Flames danced in her black eyes, bottomless pools of indecent passion. More smoke spewed from the ends of her hair.
Stefin inhaled deeply of the marvelous fragrance and grinned.
Zoe’s frown faded, showing how pretty she was, her expression suddenly soft and longing as a woman’s should be.
Leaning down to her, he murmured, “Tell me how old you are and I’ll tell you things that will make you smile as you’ve never done before.”
She turned to Becca. “I’m not working with him or them.”
Of course not, she was working for them, here to see to their every need, professional and sexual. The way the universe worked. Stefin smiled. “I agree.”
Confusion swept over her features, along with relief and possibly a little regret. After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped back. He followed, or rather pursued, as a man should.
Zoe crossed her arms beneath her small breasts. “You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”
She wanted to play. How adorable. The other female demons Stefin had known were bold as hell, getting down and dirty with no flirting or come-ons whatsoever, which made sex perfunctory and too similar to his memories of times past. As a product of Russian culture during its bleakest days, he’d experienced equality of the sexes firsthand, where men were men and women were too, everyone the same. Stoically hard. Endlessly grim. Decidedly sexless. That simply wasn’t right and couldn’t have been what nature had intended. Stefin enjoyed a carnal dance that a man was destined to win simply because he was male.
He offered a mischievous smile. “Asking for what?”
She arched one slender eyebrow. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I thought I already had.”
Her gaze got blurry with yearning again.
“Ah, guys,” Becca said. “There’s work to do. You better get to it. Zoe, please show them the routine.”
Puffs of smoke rose from her hair.
What other proof did Stefin need of her boundless arousal? She was more than ready for him.
Becca didn’t seem to notice. Wringing her hands, she pleaded, “Please, Zoe. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, ever. You’re one of my BFFs. I hope you know that.”
Zoe appeared ready to argue, but at last her shoulders sagged. On a loud sigh, she headed for the door. The hem of her skirt swayed, providing a small glimpse of her calves.
Determined to see far more, Stefin followed, gesturing for Anatol and Taro to do the same.
In the hall, Anatol elbowed Taro. “I’m surprised Zoe didn’t chew off Stefin’s balls in there.”
“Knowing him, he expects her to lick them.”
“After he behaved like a damn Cossack, repeatedly asking her age?” Anatol sniffed. “A woman needs to be wooed before any man can expect obedience. I’ll have to show him how it’s done.”
“You?”
They turned a corner, following Zoe and Stefin past the receptionist. Hilary? Hilda? No, wait—Heather, Anatol finally recalled. Her blouse, skirt and shoes were a uniform white. With her pale blonde hair and alabaster skin, she was almost too bright to look at.
Anatol returned her sweet smile as a gentleman should. Although he’d grown up in the slums of Paris and had been a notorious thief, he knew how to treat a woman properly
and was eager to try his hand with Zoe.
She certainly wasn’t what he’d expected.
When Becca had explained that Zoe was one of the service’s enforcers, Anatol had anticipated a brawny woman whose muscles and facial hair would rival his. Except for her ballsy attitude, Zoe was surprisingly delicate and vulnerable, her lower lip trembling when Becca had introduced them. As though their presence here had diminished hers.
Anatol wanted to enhance it. There was something about Zoe that reminded him of the woman he’d lost nearly seventy-five years ago when he’d still believed in hope, a future that had seemed within reach.
It hadn’t worked out then. There’d been too little time. Now, he had an eternity to pursue whatever and whoever interested or intrigued him. With a new lightness in his step, he kept pace with Zoe. The ends of her hair bobbed with her brisk steps. She kept clenching her fists.
Chéri, there’s no need for such anguish.
When he had the chance, he’d uncurl her fingers one by one, press his lips to her palms, her throat and finally her mouth. He’d slip his tongue inside to taste the demon she really was, press his body against her scant curves.
He’d give her a touch of romance and then mount her as they both wanted with Zoe surely begging for more.
Taro rolled his eyes at Anatol’s indecent expression. No doubt, he was fucking Zoe in his mind when he was supposed to be the civilized one, not vulgar like Stefin or uncouth as Taro was considered to be.
Well, la-di-da. It wasn’t Taro’s fault that he’d lived during this country’s frontier period, when breaking the law had practically been a religion, and the only way to survive if you were dirt poor. Filling your belly with good intentions or sweet talk didn’t get you far.
He wasn’t proud of what he’d been back then, but he wasn’t ashamed either. Nor did Taro believe he was clueless when it came to what women wanted. It was strikingly simple and amazingly complicated. They needed tender words, fucking good sex and everlasting commitment.
His belly twisted. He’d never been good at offering his heart. Lovin’ and leavin’ them had been more his style.
