Rae Falling, Episode 1 of The Devilhouse Books: Rae

by Blair Babylon

  Heck, for tonight, for this last beautiful night before she got kicked out of college, Rae was going to ditch her inner Bella. She lifted her chin and smiled. “Katniss.”

  The Blond Hottie’s smile and blue eyes focused on her. “How so?”

  Oh, dang. Now she had to come up with something. “I love my family more than anything, and I can bowhunt.”

  The Blond Hottie blinked, and Rae was a little surprised that gold dust didn’t sprinkle out of his thick, shimmering lashes. He said, “There’s a surprising answer.”

  “My dad taught me to bowhunt when I was nine. My whole family bowhunts.”

  “You are a little Amazon, aren’t you?”

  No one called gargantuan Rae a “little” anything, but this guy stood several inches taller than she did. “I s’pose so.”

  “And your friends, Georgie and Lizbeth. They’re Bellas, yeah?”

  Rae heard his accent again, just when he asked, yeah? She said, “Oh, I don’t think they’re Bellas. Georgie is going to be a litigating lawyer, and she’s going to be awesome at it. Lizzy is wicked with a Taser if you cross her. I think she’ll end up as a professor. So you know Georgie and Lizzy? Do you know their friend Dom?”

  The man’s blond eyebrows lifted with amusement, and that should have tipped Rae off, but she was tipsy and sweaty from dancing with her friends.

  The Blond Hottie asked, “Should I know him?”

  Rae said, “They said he would be here. This Dom guy sounds kind of humorless to me, though.”

  One of his pale eyebrows twitched just a little. “Humorless? Is that how they described Dom?”

  “No. They seem to like him. He sounds like he’s hard to know.” Rae didn’t mention anything they had said because she was solid like that. “They just coached me on what to say, like they didn’t want me to make a mistake if I met him.”

  “Really?” he asked, as if she had said the most fascinating thing, and to Rae’s lemon drop martini-soaked brain, she was kind of fascinating right now. He smelled good to her, like sweet cinnamon and like something growing in a meadow, and like a strong, clean man.

  “Yeah, they just said to tell him the truth, but they made it sound like I had to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, like he was a judge or psychic or something.”

  “Surely that’s not the case. Perhaps we should practice your truthfulness. That would please Georgie and Lizbeth, yes?” The Blond Hottie smiled again, and his white teeth were not pointy like a vampire at all. His smile had a sweetness to it, like he was truly happy that Rae was dancing with him and that they were talking.

  Rae laughed, and her body pulsed with laughter. “Sure. Why not?”

  “What a wonderful laugh, you have.” His blue eyes crinkled like he was pleased.

  “I used to sing in the church choir.” Rae just wanted to make him smile some more. “Singing strengthens your diaphragm, and then you get this loud, obnoxious laugh. I hate it.”

  “I think your laugh is delightful. It sounds like bell choir. You said you tried the cocktails?”

  “Yes! A few.” More than a few. “And I tried some of that blue-label whiskey, too. It was really good.”

  “You like whiskey,” he mused. “Interesting. And the music?”

  She babbled because she liked to see him smile. “A little, um, classic for my taste, but it’s fun to dance to.”

  “You like to dance.” He spun her around in a circle as if to show that he was bigger and far stronger than she was, that even almost-six-feet Rae was fragile in his arms.

  Rae stiffened her back and controlled the spin.

  Mrs. Geerhardt had taught Rae’s seventh-grade Bible School class to foxtrot and waltz. In the cool church basement, the pimply boys and girls had held each other’s palms out in front of them and counted out loud to the classical music. Eventually, Minister Stoppard had made old Mrs. Geerhardt stop teaching them such a heathen thing as dancing.

  She held her arms and back taut and didn’t let him fling her around.

  The Blond Hottie looked down at her when she pushed back. His sweet smile became amused at her. “You partner well. Do you tend to lead?”

  She lifted her chin because, well, she wasn’t sure why she did other than that Lizzy and Georgie had been rubbing up against her, which had turned her on more than she would ever have admitted, and she liked the feel of this man in her arms. She hadn’t had a boyfriend for eight months, to the point where she had gone to the frat party last night with the intention of getting laid, and she was going home to Pirtleville in three and a half weeks. No one at this party would tattle on her.

  She smiled up at The Blond Hottie. “Yeah, I tend to lead.”

  He smiled a little more, and he inclined his head like she had said something funny and slightly outrageous. She felt awesome. He asked, “What do you think of the people here?”

  Rae looked at the college-aged guy with the domineering woman in black satin and at the white-haired man fondling the young chick. “They’re an odd mix. I’ve been too busy dancing to look around much.”

  “Let’s look around. The woman in the black formal with the shirtless gent?”

  Rae knew exactly which ones he meant and glanced over at them. The shaggy-haired young man was grinding at the woman like if he got her hot enough, she might buy him a new surfboard. “The wolf cub?”

  “Yes.” His pleased voice egged her on.

  The woman wore heavy make-up, to the point where all the cream and powder looked like it might crack if she smiled, so her dark red lipstick didn’t curve up at all. “He seems really into it. She looks disinterested.”

  “She will not allow him to gain the upper hand.”

  “Oh. Playing hard-to-get.”

  “Not exactly. How about the woman in the short orange dress and the gentleman in the black tie?”

  One glance at the fawning woman plucking at the impassive man’s shoulder and chest told Rae that story. “He’s playing hard-to-get, or else he’s paying her for the evening.”

  “Yes, there’s always a power dynamic in a couple.”

  The Blond Hottie, and she realized that she still didn’t know his real name or else had forgotten it because she was just tipsy enough to forget things and maybe make wild decisions, had waltzed Rae over to the edge of the dance floor.

  The Blond Hottie nodded past the people around them, drawing her attention over the heads of the crowd to a couple the edge of the room. “What do you think of those two screwing against the wall?”

  Rae peeked around The Blond Hottie’s shoulder and found the couple he meant. The two of them weren’t even trying to be discreet. The man was one of the forty-something men wearing a black suit, and he was fucking a blond woman against the wall from behind. Her glittery hot pink dress was pushed up above the round cheeks of her tanned ass, and her thong was around her ankles. The woman threw her head back as he ground her against the wall.

  “Holy Jesus!” Rae’s first instinct had been to run over and pull the man off of the woman because she assumed that it must be rape, but the woman grabbed the man’s suit coat to pull him in closer. The woman’s other hand splayed above her on the wall, and her fingers clawed the paint.

  Rae whipped around, back to The Blond Hottie. Her face burned, and she knew she must look slapped-red and flustered and she thought that she should swim through the crowd and leave this party as fast as she could. “They’re fucking!”

  He laughed a deep chuckle. “Yes, they are.”

  “Right out here where everybody can see and everything!” Rae should leave. This party was some kind of Sodom and Gomorrah that freaked her out, and yet a less twitchy part of her brain remembered college couples making out heavily against the wall at the frat party the night before. Some of them had been getting to third base. “Isn’t that illegal? In public?”

  “This is a private party,” The Blond Hottie said.

  Some of the other people in the crowd stopped to watch the man fucking the woman
against the wall. Some glanced over and went back to dancing or drinking.

  Rae glanced back. The man’s pants and underwear had fallen down around his ankles, and his white shirt tail swung as he boned the young woman. He had wrapped one arm around her waist, trapping her on his dick. His other arm vibrated deep in her pussy in front.

  Rae maneuvered The Blond Hottie around so that she could see them better over his shoulder. He didn’t move quite enough, so she used her arms and strong back to press against him, definitely leading. He chuckled again.

  The woman’s eyes were closed and she looked like she was crying out, about to have an orgasm, but Rae couldn’t hear her above the thumping music. The man’s body moved sinuously, and Rae bet that he was good at it, better than an awkward college guy.

  The couple shimmied together, fucking hard. Rae’s pussy bloomed and grew sensitive, and the long months since she had last gotten laid weighed on her.

  Rae realized that she had been watching them for a while when The Blond Hottie pulled her closer to his body. “What do you think of them?”

  “They look like they’re enjoying themselves.” Rae’s lips felt too big, like she wanted to be kissed. She had never seen two people having sex right in front of her before. It wasn’t like her cousin-roommate Hester had ever brought a guy back to their dorm room and screwed him while Rae pretended to sleep in the other twin bed.

  The woman’s blond hair fell down around her shoulders, and when she laid her head back on the man’s shoulder, her hair snared on his black jacket. Her body writhed on his, and Rae’s thighs heated. The man threw his head back, and his body clenched.

  The Blond Hottie’s hand dropped down to the small of Rae’s back and pressed, tilting her pelvis in toward his. She let him.

  She let him. She was just letting things happen again. Just like falling into her major and flunking out of school, she was drifting instead of making decisions.

  Being seduced was letting things happen to her, not doing things.

  The Blond Hottie nodded toward the couple, who were leaning on the wall, spent. He whispered, “Would you ever do something like that?”

  Rae was going back to dust-choked Pirtleville in three and half weeks.

  Three and half stupid weeks.

  Screwing The Blond Hottie against a wall would be doing something.

  “Yeah,” she said, “but not out here.” She had seen couples slip through a door and then emerge later, disheveled, but hadn’t really made the connection. “Back there.”

  The Blond Hottie smiled again, and this time, the toothiness verged on wolfiness. “You want to be against a wall?”

  “No.” Rae tossed her head and looked straight into his deep blue, hungry eyes. “You’re going to be the one against the wall.”

  He smiled bigger. “By all means, lead on, Madam.”

  She took his hand and led him through a door in the back of the suite into a darkened room. Light from a bathroom lit the room a little, enough that she could see that they were alone and that a mussed bed and nightstands stood against the far wall. She didn’t want the bed, though. She wanted to see what it was like to screw a man standing up.

  For a second, terror flooded Rae that this man whose name she didn’t even know had manipulated her to being alone with him because he was a serial killer and was going to kill her in this room where no one could hear her screams over the loud music and then the mounted posse would find her dead body out in the desert, which was yet another episode of her useless brand of paranoia.

  No. She was not afraid. She was going to have this guy.

  As The Blond Hottie came through the door behind her, she grabbed him and slammed the door and pushed him against the wall. She kissed him, hard. His lips were soft and smooth, and she liked the way he kissed her back. His mouth tasted like whiskey, so he liked the hard drinks, too. She fumbled with his pants, trying to figure out if they closed with a hook or a button or whatever and finally he pushed her hands out of the way to do it himself, so she started pulling out his shirt instead.

  Under her palms, inside his shirt, his chest and stomach were silky, not furry like an old guy, not shaved and sharp-stubbled like a self-involved frat guy. She guessed he was in his late twenties, probably, from the mature, sharp line of his jaw and muscle. Hard muscle lumped under his skin. She grabbed his flat man-nipples and rubbed them.

  His hands dove into her dress and popped her tits out of the low neckline. His head dipped down, and he took one nipple into his hot mouth, then the other. Pleasure sparked up her body, and Rae let her head fall back and just heard him say, “What a beautiful body, you have.”

  Beautiful? Rae wasn’t a beautiful kind of woman, and she knew it. She always felt fat next to the tiny girls like Lizzy, just because she was tall and had flesh on her, yet The Blond Hottie had called her beautiful. For a moment, she felt beautiful in her silver-flashing dress that cinched her waist and pushed up her boobs. He seemed to like how she looked, or tasted.

  She still didn’t even know his name. “What’s your name?”

  He lapped her nipple and then sucked on it.

  Her nipple hardened in his mouth, and every time he flicked his tongue over it, her nipple squeezed harder. She looked down, watching his mouth on her tit. She wound her fingers into his light blond hair. “Seriously, what is your name?”

  He straightened and looked down at her. Desire misted over his eyes, and his breath was ragged. “Wulf.”

  He was teasing her for that sparkly vampire-or-werewolf quip. “No, it isn’t.”

  “Yes, it is Wulf. Spelled with a ‘u.’” He reached around her, sliding his hands over her waist, and then bent down to mouth her breasts again. He was rougher his time, almost biting her as he worked his whole mouth over her boob.

  “Wulf what?” she insisted.

  He left her breast and lifted his head. His serious blue eyes gazed right into hers, though his breath still panted. “Just Wulf.”

  She braced her arms on the wall on both sides of his head, an aggressive move, even though she was a couple of inches shorter than he was. Some guys wouldn’t like it, but Wulf didn’t flinch. “I’m going to screw you against this wall,” she said, tapping the plaster, “so I want to know your name.”

  He looked pensive, not scared, not evasive, but like he wasn’t sure how she was going to react. “My name is Wulfram Augustus Heinrich Ernst Georg Berthold Friedrich,” he paused to take a breath, and Rae thought his faint accent strengthened, “Wilhelm Louis Ferdinand Prinz von Hannover.”

  Rae blinked, mentally digesting that whole babble of a name. “Well, I’m not going to be screaming all that when I screw you.”

  He grinned at her smart-aleck answer and dragged her close to his hard body. “Maybe I can make you scream part of it.”

  “Go for it.”

  He grabbed her tit with his mouth like he had something to prove. She slid her hand around the back of his neck and held his mouth on her breast, savoring his tongue and his teeth. She sighed as all those delicious feelings swam in her body, the hunger and desire and lust for him. She wanted to grab him and wrap herself around him until he melted into her.

  Maybe the wild dancing or the whiskey had broken down whatever made Rae so scared, maybe it was watching that couple screwing against the wall just feet away from them, or maybe it was the knowledge that this might be the last wild night of her life, but Rae was going to fuck this man until he yelled her name.

  He sucked her tit harder, until it almost hurt but Rae’s body yearned for more, and harder, and his hands slid her dress up her bare legs.

  She hadn’t thought the dress’s material stretched much at all, but with one smooth move, the silvery fabric bunched on her hips. His fingers dug into her thighs, straining to pull her body closer. His hard-on poked her stomach through his underwear.

  She pushed him back against the wall, tugged his blond hair to raise his head up, and she kissed him again. Her lips opened, and she felt his lips part.
She forced her tongue into his mouth, and he opened his mouth, sliding their tongues together. She pushed him back against the wall with her body, pressing her tits and belly against his hard torso and dick.

  His hands slipped under her panties in back, and he grabbed her bare ass, squeezing and lifting her. His hands groped her everywhere, grabbing her skin like he couldn’t get enough of her. He crushed her to him, his tongue deep in her mouth, but Rae pressed him back harder against the wall.

  His hand slid between their bodies, reaching for her panties.

  Rae opened her legs, and Wulf slipped one hand under her thigh and lifted her leg around his waist. She braced her knee against the wall beside him.

  His fingers slipped down her thigh toward her panties again, and she waited, breathless, while until he touched her over her panties, caressing the fabric. Her pussy tingled from his touch. His hot breath was ragged on her neck, and his panting all but drowned out the thumping drums from the dance floor on the other side of the wall.

  She held onto his neck, and he kissed and chewed her shoulders when his fingers slipped inside her underwear and began stroking her slit. He slid over her clit, and then moved into her wet center, and she was wet, soaking wet. Rae moaned as he moved his hand over and into her.

  She wanted him now, and Rae shoved Wulf’s hand away, found his underwear among his shirt tails because he hadn’t even unbuttoned his shirt, and pushed his underwear down. He grabbed her ass again, shoved down her underwear, bent down and retrieved something from his pants’ pocket, tore open the packet and jammed on a condom, and kept her leg high beside him as he shoved her down on his cock.

  Wulf’s head fell back as he arched his back, groaning and pushing himself inside her.

  She slipped over him, taking him deep inside her, rubbing inside her all the way up and down with every thrust. Rae gasped and held onto his shoulders, already sparking inside.

  “Say it,” he growled. “Wulfram Augustus—”

  “No,” Rae said. “You say mine.” She slid down his chest and took him deeper inside, gasping as he jammed all his cock deep in her. “Say it. Reagan Rose Stone.”