What if… what if I told you, and you didn’t love me anymore? What if you moved to New York with me, abandoned your whole life here, only to discover you’d fallen for someone… something like me.
I couldn’t bear the thought. But if you stayed here… if you thought I was just another jerk who’d used you for a, what did you call it? Cheap fling? Then maybe you’d move on, find someone else, and be happy. Be… normal. Something that I can never give you… even if you do still love me.”
“Jack,” she reached forward and gently turned his face to hers, “I do still love you. Your shifter side-it doesn’t make any difference to me. I love you for who you are; every part of you.” She paused, and added with a small smile, “And it’s just as true for you too. You could have gone on and found someone else.”
“No,” he said, with not a hint of teasing, “There is no one else for me in the world but you.”
He leaned forward and kissed her, pulling her close against him. She surrendered happily, gladly, laughing as he pulled her down onto the carpet beneath him. “Ya know, there is a party going on outside,” she giggled as he began to push up the hem of her dress.
“Why do you think I picked a dark room with a door that locks?” He inquired huskily, running his lips along the edge of her jaw, “I admit, I didn’t pick this room just to talk. As soon as I saw you walk into the party with that muscled distraction, I’ve needed to possess you.” She gasped as he tore her panties free, not even bothering to hide his strength now.
“Wanted to make sure you haven’t forgotten who you belong to,” he muttered, seizing her mouth once more.
“You,” she whispered against his lips, “Only you.”
“Damn right,” he growled, expertly maneuvering his hips to align with hers, his muscular torso forming a perfect V that disappeared into a wild tangle of hair. He let the clothes he’d been using to cover himself fall away, leaving him naked and vulnerable to her gaze. Catching his eye, she gave a low, impressed whistle. “Seems you have ruined me for other men.”
He laughed appreciatively, the rumble of his chest causing strange sensations in her as they lay entangled. “Just what I wanted to hear.” He kissed her again, his quick fingers making short work of her zipper, pulling the fabric gradually off her shoulders so it pooled in velvety folds around her midsection.
She shimmed the rest down over her hips, her face flushing with excitement as she saw the way Jack watched the way her body moved with rapt attention. She barely finished kicking away the dress before Jack was on her, his mouth hungrily on her, fingers touching every part of her he could reach.
He cupped one breast in his free hand, his thumb gently circling over her nipple until it peaked and hardened beneath his careful attention. Yanking aside the fabric of her bra, his mouth took over the rhythm as he unhooked the clasps that held her breasts confined, releasing them with a lusty groan.
Erin tilted her head back in delirium, abandoning her senses to his mercy as he rocked his hips closer and closer to her sex, raking her nails across the bare skin of his back, burying her fingers in his long strands of hair.
When it seemed that she was on the edge of collapse, driven just to the brink of begging, he pulled back, bright eyes burning with need. The tip of his erection brushed against her, making her shudder with anticipation.
“Now tell the truth,” he ordered softly, carefully positioning himself between her legs, “you have heard at least one of my songs, right?”
Erin grinned, playfully arching her hips to allow him even closer, “Maybe.”
He pressed against her, his cock hard, so close to entering her, her entire body ached with tension.
“Which ones?”
She tipped her head back, letting him see all of her in the glow of the garden lanterns. He ran his hands down the length of her body, his low moan torn from his body as if by force.
“All of them,” she giggled.
He laughed his musical, spell-binding laugh, and seizing her hips in his powerful hands, buried himself inside her. She cried out, her body rising to meet him.
He pulled out, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and then thrust again, filling her perfectly. She could feel the caution he took with her, the way his body trembled with the enormous effort of control. She reached up, pulling herself up to him, letting him support her, and kissed him violently.
“I love all of you,” she whispered, “And I can take all of you.”
“That a promise?” he asked through gritted teeth. She nodded.
With a groan of ecstasy, he abandoned himself, heaving into her with all of his strength. She tightened her hold, her cheek pressed to his chest, losing herself in the hungry of his embrace. Her body began to tighten again as they clung to each other, the perfect alignment of their bodies igniting her as no man had ever been able to do. She abandoned herself to the feeling, and exploded around him. He tucked his mouth to her ear, and managed to say, “And I love all of you,” before coming within her with a deep cry.
They lay together for a moment, both trying to catch their breath, enjoying the simple pleasure of skin to skin contact. Slowly, Jack propped himself up onto his elbow, and raised a sardonic eyebrow at his former assistant. “So did I mention that the theater offered me a temporary position of acting coach, at least, until it’s time to audition for the next show?”
Erin resisted rolling her eyes. “As if they’ll make you audition.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Jack grinned, “I also seem to be short one assistant. Know anyone who would be up for the job?”
“Might,” Erin replied breezily, “Requirements?”
“Gorgeous, well-organized, doesn’t mind me occasionally turning into a monkey. Oh, and absolutely says what’s on her mind,” he winked teasingly at her, “So what do you think? Got any more adventures to show me in this town?”
Erin laughed and, throwing her arms around his neck, pulled him down for a kiss. “Baby, you ain’t seen anything yet.”
***
PREVIEW OF ‘AUCTIONED TO THE SERPENT’ BY ASHLEY HUNTER
The Auction
Ren Riceluk looked at herself in the full-length mirror and wasn't sure what she was looking at. She didn't know if she was staring at herself or a stranger.
The Ren she knew had never looked this beautiful. She was pretty, that much she would admit to, and she had curves that she loved and used them to her advantage. But she didn't wear finery such as the red silk gown that she had been fitted with for that evening. The dress had to cost two thousand dollars at best; she couldn't afford anything about five hundred dollars if she was lucky. A teacher's salary didn't allow her much finery.
So when her friend Alasia told her that they would supply the dresses for the few minutes they would be up on stage, Ren had decided to make the most of it. You only live once, she surmised. And it was for a good cause.
She might as well look good for a few minutes before everything went pear-shaped for her.
"Do you mind?" Ren felt a sharp nudge to her arm. "I can't see the mirror."
Ren muttered an apology and stepped away, watching as Anslee Thompson flaunted into view and checked herself for the umpteenth time, making sure that the low-cut of her violet silk dress was low enough on her small breasts and the skirt was above her knees. Ren had seen Anslee move to the mirror more than a dozen times since she had entered the room two hours ago and it was always to check that what she had adjusted five minutes before was not out of place.
The other young women kept away from her but Anslee kept swanning around, loudly reminding people who her father was and that she was going to bag the most money for the bachelorette charity auction.
Ren had quietly kept to herself. But it seemed like her attempt to keep out of the spiteful young woman's way was going to be for naught.
Anslee glanced at her in the mirror as she leant forward to check her cleavage, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
"What are you doing here?"
>
"I'm part of the bachelorette auction."
As were all the other women in the room but Ren wasn't one to be pedantic.
"You?" Anslee snorted. "You're one of the bachelorettes?"
Ren could see a couple of the women giving her sympathetic looks. The other women in the room were nice and Ren had done a circuit of the room getting to know everyone; it was in her nature to be nice to people. But Anslee was known to be a catty person. The nineteen-year-old didn't believe in being nice to get friends or for the sake of it; she was only nice when she needed something.
Ren braced herself. She had dealt with bullies like Anslee all her life; she wasn't going to cower before her now.
"Alasia decided I could bring in some money." Ren adjusted the V-neck so it covered more of her cleavage, which felt too revealing. "It is for charity, after all."
"Alasia needs her eyes tested." Anslee gave her a scathing look and snorted pityingly. "You're not pretty enough. You wouldn't fetch even triple figures in."
There was a gasp from someone. Ren rolled her eyes and placed a hand on a cocked hip.
"And why would that be, Miss Thompson?" She asked. "Because I'm not slim like you? Beautiful doesn't mean what you look like on the outside. I'm not the correct weight for my height but that's not going to stop me from being beautiful."
"You believe fat is beautiful?"
Anslee was looking at her like she was crazy. Ren raised an eyebrow.
"Do you believe thin is beautiful when you're a bitch on the inside? It isn't a good look."
Anslee was still staring at her but Ren didn't cower. She had faced many girls like Anslee at school. They didn't scare her then and Anslee didn't scare her now.
Finally, to Ren's surprise, Anslee smiled and barked out a laugh. She went to a nearby chair and sat, crossing her long legs as she reached into her purse.
"You've got some spunk on you." She retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "I'll give you that."
"Plus I've got a bucket list and this is on it." Ren added. "Raising money for charity."
"A bucket list? Are you dying or something?"
Ren's heart clenched. It wasn't that obvious, was it? She had managed to keep the tremors to a minimum with her medication. No one could have seen it.
"I just want to try things once." She said quickly.
"Is having sex with a hot guy on your list as well?"
Ren blushed.
"Not really."
"Liar." Anslee grinned as she lit up a cigarette. "That would be my bucket list. A long list of who I would want to fuck."
Ren didn't know whether to laugh or cringe.
"Isn't that a little...?"
"Sluttish?" Anslee shrugged. "I know it does. But if I'm dying, I want to go out with a smile on my face, not thinking about what ifs." She blew a stream of smoke at Ren, who wafted it away as it came in her direction. "And I know who would be on the top of that list. Brock Willier."
"Billionaire Brock Willier?"
Ren had heard of Brock but had never seen him. There weren't even any pictures of him. If it wasn't for word of mouth, the man might not even exist. Every woman whispered about him but a very rare few got to see him. Ren knew she would never get that honour and, frankly, didn't really care. But it was nice to think what he looked like.
"The one and only. Barely any woman can get near him and those that succeed do say he is smoking hot in bed." Anslee sat back and drew on her cigarette again. "Perfecto for a one-off fuck."
"How so?"
"No emotions. Guy's as ice-cold as they come. He'll fuck you so you remember it for the rest of your life but you'd better not outstay your welcome or expect a second go." Anslee flicked some ash onto the floor. "One-off type of guy."
Ren shuddered.
"He doesn't sound very nice."
"Everyone says that about him. The most eligible bachelor this side of the United States and he doesn't give a damn."
Ren grunted.
"Doesn't sound like a title he's interested in." She surmised.
"He'll come round one day." Anslee smirked and winked. "And I hope I'm there to be a part of it."
Ren hoped that Brock Willier had some sense not to go near Anslee Thompson. The socialite was willing to put her claws into any man with a pulse and money. She would probably eat him up for dinner.
"Ren."
An attractive black woman in her thirties appeared in the doorway to the dressing room, a clipboard in her hands. Dressed in a grey pinstripe suit and her hair up in a bun, she looked every bit the professional. She sent a warm smile Ren's way.
"You're up next, honey."
Ren squared her shoulders and smoothed down her dress. This was it. One way of looking stupid in front of dozens of good-looking men who were willing to pay cash to have dinner with an eligible woman. She didn't expect to get much but she was willing to do what she could to raise money for charity.
She followed Alasia Fraser out the room.
"How do I look?"
"You look amazing." Alasia gave her a warm smile. "You'll dazzle them." She glanced back towards the dressing room. "I'm amazed you were talking to Anslee and she wasn't sniping your head off. She's not exactly the friendly type."
"I noticed." Ren shrugged. "I can hold my own."
Alasia chuckled. They turned a corner and Ren felt her legs give way. She shrieked and tried to catch herself, hitting the wall. Alasia turned and caught her before she fell to the floor.
"Whoa there, Ren." She steadied Ren back on her feet. "Are you okay?"
Ren wasn't okay. She knew that she wasn't. But she wasn't going to tell Alasia that. This wasn't exactly something to share. Not now. She managed a smile and a shrug.
"I'm fine. It's just these heels."
Alasia looked like she didn't believe her for a moment. But she stepped back and nodded towards a door Ren knew would bring her round the back of the stage.
"Go out there and sparkle, Ren?"
Provided she didn't fall flat on her face again.
#
"Another drink, sir?"
Brock looked up. The waitress who had been manning his table for most of the evening was standing by his chair again. He was sure her skirt had hitched up a few more inches and there was another button undone on her blouse.
He didn't know if he should feel embarrassed for her or laugh at her pathetic attempts at seduction. The poor girl wasn't going to get anywhere.
"No, thanks." He fingered his scotch glass, which he had barely touched. "I'm fine with what I've got."
"Are you sure?"
The waitress bit her lip and leant forward, her cleavage very close to Brock's face. He turned his head away, not wanting to see down the woman's shirt.
"I'm sure, thank you." He said icily.
Brock kept his face turned away as he felt the waitress' demeanour change. She harrumphed, straightened up and stalked away, her heels thudding on the carpet as she stomped off. Brock shook his head and rubbed at his eyes.
Such women didn't seem to take a hint very well and then acted as if the man was the one with the problem when it didn't go their way. While the waitress had been young and pretty - very pretty - Brock couldn't find himself to get interested enough to take her up on her offer. It felt almost boring.
Life felt boring. It had been nearly eight months since he had last had a woman in his bed and even then, he had had to work hard to become interested. It wasn't the woman’s fault; his serpent wanted its mate and it wasn't settling for second-best. It just wanted the one person it was meant to be with.
Brock knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Not with his demeanour. He kept himself closed off from everyone so barely anyone could get past his defences. He had his reasons but he wasn't going to explain himself. Even his personal assistant Tracey - someone he considered his closest friend - didn't know the whole truth.
With all that going on, finding his mate was going to be next to impossible.
The wo
man up on the stage, a blonde beauty with a debutante-type smile and wearing a white dress that could have come straight out of a fairy tale, finally left with a spattering off applause. The man who had won her for a date, a distinguished-looking man in his forties, stood and made his way to the side of the stage, where Alasia Fraser was waiting to collect the check.
Brock wondered why he did this. He liked Alasia - she was a sound woman - but he didn't know why he did this for her. Giving money to charity he had no problem with doing, but Brock didn't like these events where you bid to date a bachelorette who paraded themselves on a stage and the bid amount would be the donation. He could easily send a check in the post but Alasia always managed to get him to come.
For the past four years, he had grudgingly agreed. At the end of the night, he and Alasia would share a takeout at her apartment and then he would take his leave. No sex; Alasia was firmly on the other side of the fence. But she was good fun and that was the only thing Brock looked forward to.
He sighed when the announcer's deep voice vibrated across the room, introducing the next woman.
"Here we go, gentlemen. Bachelorette number seven. Ren Riceluk."
Brock glanced up at the stage, expecting another debutante-looking beauty queen, stick thin and with a pageant-style smile pasted on her face. And he froze. The woman on stage was curvy. Deliciously curvy. The red dress she wore clung to her body and showed off her assets in a way that had Brock's mouth watering.
Her light brown hair was done up in a simple chignon, swept away from a clear-skinned face that had very little makeup. Her dark eyes glinted in the light as they darted around the room, standing on the stage with one hand on her hip, a confident smile on her face as she sauntered across the stage and twirled before moving back to her original spot.
She was beautiful. Brock couldn't take his eyes off her, barely registering her credentials.
"Ren is an elementary school teacher. Rather her than me." The announcer chuckled. "Aged twenty-three and, as you can see, brown hair and brown eyes. Nice curves as well, if I say so myself. Can't beat those curves."
Romance: Claimed By The Ape: BBW Shapeshifter Romance Standalone (Spicy Shifters Book 4) Page 8
