by AJ Hampton
Before he could speak or even react, she straightened. Quick as lightning, she hopped up. Gravity pulled his hands from her shirt. They fell flat to the floor. A peanut shell crushed under the weight of his knuckles. He missed the feel of her body on top of his.
Helpless, he watched Sam wipe her hands on her pants. She didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she turned on her heel and grabbed the whiskey from the table. No matter how much he tried to will her around to face him, she wouldn’t. He wasn’t the one with the magic. And no matter how hard he tried to force the words asking her to stay, his tongue just wouldn’t cooperate.
Scrambling, silent, she weaved through the crowd of tables. No one said a word. Her shoulder brushed Jeremiah’s arm, but she didn’t stop. She was heading toward the elevator that led to the basement. If she was going to ride that scary-as-hell contraption, she really must have been desperate to disappear.
He lay there for a few seconds, stunned, confused, and horny as hell. Jeremiah appeared in his line of sight. He zeroed out of the sway of the tissue ghost. There was an amused tilt to his brother’s face. When a hand appeared in front of Trent’s face, he took it. Standing, he rubbed the back of his head and winced at the knot that had already formed.
“That went well.” Jeremiah laughed.
Trent smoothed his palms against his shirt, brushing off the debris. He let out a long, low whistle, then patted his brother on the back and shot him a toothy grin. “You let anyone down in that basement, and I’ll hurt you.”
Following the exact same path Sam had, he crossed the room in half the time. As the dented brown metal doors started to close, the low light of the elevator began to fade. He saw just a glimpse of her hand pushing frantically at the button to help speed it along. No way was she going to tell him she was a virgin then just run away. The doors closed around his foot, and he wedged it in the crack. The outdated motor gave a groan of protest before the doors began to move in the opposite direction.
As he stepped inside, Sam took one step backward. She held out her hand, palm up, as if it were a stop sign. It trembled.
“Wait,” she stuttered.
“Fuck that,” he said, and he grabbed her hand, tugging her forward.
The doors shut behind them, and he cupped her hips. One step at a time, he pushed her back against the wall. Hard, demanding, there was no finesse when he smashed his mouth on hers.
She hesitated for a moment. It was a very small moment. Her hands were under his shirt, nails scratching along the indent of his spine. Goose bumps followed the wake of her fingers. When she was done exploring his shoulders, she curved her hands around the sides of his ribs.
He nipped at her lips, teasing her tongue into his mouth. One of his hands slipped between their bodies. He tugged on her shirt, pushing it up her stomach. Her hand moved in the opposite direction and traced the rigid lines of his abs. Up, down. His stomach jumped each time she dipped toward the hem of his jeans.
Growling, he shoved his knee between her legs. His hand snuck beneath the cotton of her shirt. Her bra was satin, almost as smooth as her skin when he pulled it below her breasts. Her back arched against him, and he pinched her nipple into a hard nub.
“More,” she pleaded, breaking their kiss only long enough for that one single word.
Nudging her thighs apart, he ripped his mouth from hers. Over her cheek, down the curve of her jaw, the soft breathiness of her moans made it hard to breathe. He pressed his leg up, against her clit, and almost lost it when she rolled her hips for greater friction. Her skin was every bit as sweet as he’d imagined. With more force, he cupped her breast in his palm. The hand he had on her hip tightened, bruising her skin, guiding her against his leg.
She cried out, her body trembling, her heart beginning to beat out of control. She climaxed. Once, twice, her body convulsed, nails digging into his back. He was going to lose it. The last waves of her orgasm subsided, and her head lulled to the side. His mouth was there, sucking the delicate flesh of her neck between his teeth.
Her nails trailed through the hair covering his abs. His body jerked in response. When she flattened her palm and drew her hand down the length of his cock, there was nothing virginal about it. Hand tightening, she stroked his erection through his pants. He bit harder against her neck, and his testicles tightened.
It was too much. If he wanted this to last, she needed to stop. Abandoning her breast, he caught her hands. When he pinned her wrists to the wall, she cried out, thrusting against him. He pulled away from her neck. The dark purple bruise he gave her was probably going to piss her off. He couldn’t say he was sorry. After tonight, she’d be his; he’d make damn sure of that.
As she struggled to catch her breath, her chest moved up and down. When she pushed against the restraints his hands made, he didn’t budge.
“I’m not sure what to do first.” He spoke against her mouth, tongue flicking out to taste her lower lip. “Fuck you or eat that beautiful pussy of yours.”
Chapter Four
Every inch of Sam’s skin tingled. Her body should have felt lethargic and limp from her orgasm. That wasn’t the case. Instead, she was clenching her fists, trying to keep from tackling Trent to the floor and sliding his cock inside her. Gritting her teeth, she let out a long breath and tried to ignore the arousal humming through her body.
Before she could tell him to stop, his fingers bit into her waist. He pulled her to him, and her head jerked back. The hard slant of his mouth over hers took her breath away. She twisted his shirt in her hands, pulled him closer. His hands moved up her ribs, and an earthy moan left her.
All the reasons they couldn’t do this vanished under the demands of his passion. She couldn’t think past the surge of electricity that crackled inside her. Created deep in her soul, magic began to consume her. It ripped through her body like her climax had just minutes ago, drawing them closer together. Trent gasped into her mouth. The sound was raspy, delicious. Those trailing whips of light tightened around them like a lasso. They were bound.
He gripped her waist, hands moving under her shirt. Where their skin touched, heat exploded. He lifted. The sensation made her feel dainty, feminine. Those were the last two words she’d ever use to describe herself.
They stepped from the elevator, and the stale, musky scent of the basement filled her senses. It was cool and damp, so unlike the upstairs portion of the bar. The liquor she’d knocked back was just now starting to hit her. Or maybe it was just her heady reaction to Trent. Her head spun, making everything hazy and warm. He cupped her ass, pressed their lower halves together, and rocked his hips. The feel of him against her kicked her hormones into overdrive.
She slanted her head and threaded her fingers through his curls. Hugging him close, she dominated the mating of their mouths. He pushed up on her thighs, urged her to wrap her legs around his waist. This was the exact reason she didn’t want to be alone with him. When he was close, she stopped thinking. Breaking the kiss, she drew his lower lip between her teeth and nibbled. When their eyes met, she could see how much he wanted this. Her.
He gripped her ass, harder this time, pulling her against him, until the only thing she was aware of was the hard length of his cock begging to be released. Trent walked backward.
When she opened her mouth to speak, she knew it was going to be the worst idea she’d ever spoken out loud. “There’s a couch in the corner.” Pointing past the rickety desk, she directed him to the leather sofa she sometimes used as a bed. Although it was lumpy and bled white cotton from a rip on the corner, she couldn’t get rid of it.
Trent spun them around, changed directions. As his tongue flicked against hers, she tried not to imagine what it’d be like if he was doing that somewhere else. Her pussy became wet just from the thought of him gripping her thighs and burying his head.
Her breath was knocked from her when Trent slammed her up against a hard, cool surface. It was the beige vertical filing cabinet that hadn’t seen any type of organization in the last thre
e years.
“Sorry,” he muttered and pulled at her tank top. She lifted her arms, and he pushed it up. Her necklace thudded against her chest; her hair fell in front of her eyes. The shirt fell away, and she held her breath. As he looked between them, her stomach indented, chest rising.
Her breasts spilled from her black bra. Thank God for laundry day. It was the one time biweekly she broke out the underthings in the back of the drawer. His finger traced her exposed nipple, tightening it into a peak. He bent his head, and his hair tickled her neck. The tip of his tongue made a circle around the bud before he sucked it into his mouth. Sensation penetrated her. Her pussy clenched.
He pulled away from the chilled metal cabinet, and her tank top fell from his fingers. What would have taken her ten steps, he did in four. As he set her down, she spread her legs. Hands gripping his hips, she pulled him between her thighs and lay back. The sofa dipped beneath their combined weight, and she had a moment to wonder if it would survive the promises she read in Trent’s eyes. From her mouth to her neck, his jaw rubbed her skin.
He pulled away from her mouth, and his hands cupped her cheeks. He looked down at her, his gaze moving from mouth to her breasts. “I’ve dreamed about you so many times, but I never expected it to be like this.” His voice was husky, sexier than she’d ever heard.
When his teeth found the stretch of skin just below her ear, all she could do was suck in a breath. She surged forward, closer to the heat radiating off his body. “We need—” she panted, arched her back as he drew a circle around her nipple with his finger. Her hands gripped his ass, guided his cock against her.
Trent pulled away from her neck. “We need to stop talking.”
He reached behind him. In one move, he pulled his T-shirt over his head. Tan body, just like the rest of him. Her eyes widened at the marks across his chest. Trophies, she tried to remember. A lighter shade than the rest of his skin, three slashes marred the otherwise perfection of his torso. The only thing that left a scar on a shifter was another shifter.
Her gaze traced the lines, and her magic leaped. She watched him shudder and wondered if it felt like invisible fingers were stroking him.
“Sam.”
If it was a warning, it wasn’t one she was going to listen to. When she lifted her finger, drew it down his stomach, his muscles jumped. He placed his palm on top of her hand. It was hot, rough. He moved south, guiding her wandering fingers toward his erection. His eyes fluttered shut. She stroked his length through his jeans, and his jaw tightened. She watched, her arousal growing. He was thick and long.
Using his body, he pressed her farther into the sofa. The leather creaked. They ignored it. The kisses he pressed along her jaw were slow, gentle, such a contrast to how she felt inside. He moved lower, dragging his body against hers, until his beard scratched her stomach. When he breathed, the warm air kissed just below her navel. As his mouth moved lower with hot, open-mouthed kisses, his hands caressed her sides before moving down. Brushing the top of her jeans, he looked up. It was almost as if he was asking permission. Eyes never leaving hers, his touch trailed just under the hem. He curved them, teased her stomach until she felt a rush of moisture between her thighs.
The impact of it made her suck in a breath. A low, needy moan left her throat. She arched off the couch and pressed herself against him. He popped the button on her pants, parted the zipper to expose the black triangle of satin covering her curls. It was the rasp of her zipper echoing through the room that gave her pause. Just how far was she going to push this? Twenty-five years she had waited. Then again, she’d never had to say no to Trent before.
The faint beat of the music pulsed upstairs. She couldn’t hear the words, but she felt the tempo. Every couple of moments, a weak spur of cheers would hit her ears. It was all so distant. It made her realize how alone they were. As he pushed a finger under the lace of her panties, the hair on his chest tickled her skin.
His breath was sweltering against her ear. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered.
Her hands moved over his back in a slow, unpredictable pattern. When she gripped his ass, she bit her lower lip to keep from screaming out what she really wanted. Instead, she concentrated on his butt. It was just as firm and tight as she’d always imagined. She pressed, brought him closer against her. If she spoke, she was terrified of what would come out. Nails lightly scratching, she zigzagged up his spine. It made him tremble. Across the wide breadth of his shoulders, she encountered another set of raised scars. Claw marks. He lifted her hips, decided for her. The denim of her pants scratched against her skin while he guided them past her thighs.
“Trent.” She had to tell him.
More than anything, she wanted to feel him inside her, to experience the passion between them. As dominating as he always was, she wanted to see him lose control to her demands. They couldn’t. Not yet.
He stood, tugged off her shoes, and pulled her pants to the floor. Like he commanded her magic, he also took control of her body. Her legs parted, gave him a glimpse of her covered sex. Trent popped the button on his jeans but didn’t part the zipper. As he stroked himself, she watched, heat blossoming in her stomach. Up, down. She couldn’t look away.
When she lifted up, the leather peeled from her back. He sat beside her, and the couch dipped. He reached over, caressed her hip, and pulled her onto his lap until she was straddling him. His hands moved up her back, cupped her shoulders. Moving forward, she captured his lips. They fought, going back and forth for possession. She wasn’t about to let him win. He growled, gripped her hair, and pulled until he had her in submission.
When she couldn’t breathe, she pulled away.
“We need to talk,” she whispered.
His response was a grunt. Trent nibbled along her neck. Before she could stop herself, she tilted her head to the side to assist him. Fingers walking down her spine, he cupped her ass and squeezed. Guiding her pelvis forward, against his cock, he set a steady rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure throughout her. She cupped his shoulders and threw back her head. Sensation built, tightened her stomach, and her pussy clenched. He sucked on the front of her throat, opened his mouth. Teeth scraped, sent a bolt of ecstasy straight through her.
This was torture.
“We can’t do this.” She had to stop before she couldn’t.
“Yes we can.” As if to make his point, he thrust against her.
“No, we can’t. Trent, stop,” she said.
Trent stiffened underneath her. His hands dropped from her ass, and he lifted his head. She expected him to be angry. She didn’t expect to see the concern in his eyes.
“I thought this was what you wanted. Am I doing something wrong? It’s been a hell of a long time since I made out on a couch, but—”
“I’m sorry,” she blurted.
This was all wrong. She should have hunted him down and told him he was her familiar ages ago instead of waiting for his stubborn ass to show up at the bar. What had she been thinking? She moved off his lap, adjusted herself back into her bra, and began to pace in front of him.
She put her hand over her abdomen and took a deep breath. It was a poor attempt to stop the anxious clenching in her stomach. Maybe she should forget the whole ritual. Blinking back tears at that thought, she met Trent’s eyes. He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face.
His eyes searched her face. “Just spit it out, honey.” His words were careless, but his tone was surprisingly soft.
“You are my familiar.”
“Your what?” He sat up a little straighter.
Picking up her necklace, she started to walk the length of the couch. Her gaze sought out her pathetic attempt at plants on a wide, thin bookshelf to the left of the sofa. They were brown, hanging limply from their green pots; she’d officially killed them. The cold ground seeped through her socks and made her calves ache. If only she could just crawl back into his lap.
After a moment she answered him, “It’s kind of like a witch’s muse.”
“Witch’s muse?” Brow furrowing, the tender look he’d been wearing before dissolved into a slight frown. “I’m not following.”
She didn’t even try to hide her grimace. This really wasn’t going well. When her mother had explained it, it had come out romantic and fantastical. There wasn’t a charming bone in her body.
“Familiars help a witch come into their magic, and afterward, they help us concentrate and focus our spells…” she explained.
His mouth twisted into a scowl, and he stood up and folded his arms across his chest. “That sounds like an awful lot like I’d be your bitch, not your muse.”
She’d felt his muscles before, but the way he was clenching them made them look bigger than she expected. With his strong, broad chest and lean waist, he had the body of a swimmer. In the wild, jaguars loved the water. She wondered how many of those traits transferred to his human life. While she contemplated whether he liked his steak raw and bloody, he continued to stare down at her.
“When I came down here with you, I sure as hell didn’t think I was signing up for bitch duty.” His tone was just as rude as his words.
She stopped cold. She curled her hands into a ball. Anger made her palms sweat. Magic flared to life, and with it, so did his jaguar. “And just what did you sign up for? To fuck me, then walk out the door and never come back?”
“You asked me to sleep with you! You just spring this familiar crap on me. How did you expect me to react?” he yelled.
Not like this, that was for sure. All her sexual frustration was fueling her anger. If she’d had something handy, she would have chucked it at his head.
“Spring it on you? If you hadn’t been avoiding me, I would have had time to ease you into the idea. I’ve known for months, but you’re so damn unapproachable and stubborn—”
“Goddamn it, will you stop pacing?” he growled and reached forward, stilling her.
