Emmy’s snort conveyed her disgust. “Just like men! You’re not happy unless you’re bangin’ on something.”
Everyone turned to Emmy and stared.
Her face blushed an unattractive shade of embarrassed. “I’ll just shut up.”
“That’ll never happen,” Max said.
Joe’s eyebrows rose. “Did you just make a joke?”
Max trained his expression into a fierce scowl. “I was dead serious.”
The men laughed.
The women faced off, hands on their hips.
Joe raised his hand to his mouth to cover a cough. “I think those of us who still have a sex life ought to hit the sack.”
“Ladies, remember the details,” Darcy said.
Quentin slung his arm around her shoulder. “Sweetheart, you don’t think you’re going to be left out, do you, hon?”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Quentin, I’m as big as a house now.”
“And your point is?”
Her eyes grew misty. “Oh, Quentin.”
Dylan pulled Emmy back to his side. “Love, do you want to play a little ‘hide the sausage’?”
“Ooh, my favorite.” She let him lead her from the room without ever looking back. “You know how much I love organ meat.”
Joe nodded toward the door. “Lily? You coming?”
“I just thought of a few questions I’d like to ask Max. I hate to waste an opportunity to interview—”
“Lily! You’re coming to bed with me, just as soon as I lock these two in.”
“Unfortunate choice of words, don’t you think?” Darcy said, her lips stretching into a wide smile.
Lily nodded emphatically. “He said ‘locked’.”
“Yes, he did.”
Pia swung toward Max, a frown marring the lovely curve of her brows. “Were you guys eavesdropping?”
“Love, would we do anything so unethical?” Max felt sweat pop on his forehead. He hadn’t exactly told a lie.
Joe’s eyes widened. “We need to get you put away for the night.” He nodded toward the door. “After you.”
Max rubbed the edge of his tender jaw, a reminder of the trouble he could cause if he spilled the beans about the true nature of their evening. “No, after you.”
*
“What were you ladies talking about in the kitchen?” Max asked, as he threaded his fingers through Pia’s dark mane. “We heard you laughing when we walked in.”
Pia pulled away from sucking his cock and tilted her head. “Um…we were just talking about the latest surgical techniques.”
Max tugged her hair, bringing her lips back into contact with his aching sex. “You’re a terrible liar. But you’re entitled to your secrets.”
Peering up from the floor where she knelt in front of him, Pia’s expression grew solemn. “I don’t want any more secrets between us.”
Max could think of one he’d never tell. His brothers in the spy trade would carve out his innards if he ever let it slip. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
Her lips pouted. “You’re changing the subject. If I could remember what I just said, I might figure out why.”
He pressed his cock to those pursed lips, and she opened her mouth to swallow him.
She moaned deep in her throat as she rocked forward and back, suctioning him to within a heartbeat of orgasm.
“Like my cock, do you?” He peeked down through slitted eyes. “Baby, there’s so much more I have to show you.”
Pia grew still and reared back. “Um…Max?”
“Yes, love?” He hid his grin. He knew what was coming. Pia’s curiosity had been aroused by the women’s conversation.
“Is there anything different about the way you have sex when you’re…transformed?”
He helped her to her feet, and then swung her up into his arms. He took just two steps and he deposited her in the center of the mattress. “It’s a matter of degrees,” he said, sliding over her. He sucked a turgid nipple into his mouth and groaned.
“Degrees of what?” she asked, excitement making her breathless.
“Transformation, love. But as a vampire, I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested.” He plucked the dampened nipple and switched to the neglected breast, tonguing the tip. “And I’m plenty satisfied with the sex we have. Don’t worry about it.”
“I would hate for you to feel the need to stifle any part of you.”
The earnestness of her comment had him hiding another grin. “I’m not sacrificing love. Is that what you think?” After schooling his expression into one of concern, he crawled up her body. “Let me prove it to you.”
She pressed her hands against his chest, holding him off. Her eyes glinted with a touch of irritation. “You know damn well what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
A smile won out. “You’re going to have to spell it out. I can’t make any mistakes.”
“You said the same thing that first night.”
“I still mean it. I don’t want to frighten you or disgust you. And I never want to hurt you.”
Her gaze fell away. “Max, would you teach me about some of those…degrees?”
He leaned down and nuzzled her neck. “Tell me, what you want,” he whispered next to her ear.
“How can I, when I don’t know what you offer?”
He raised his head, his nose an inch from hers as he stared into her wide eyes. “Well, I could transform into a wolf and lick you from your eyebrows to your toes. After your arousal reached fever-pitch, I’d nudge you with my snout until you rolled over, onto your knees, and then I’d mount you—doggie-style—from behind.”
Pia gulped, and her heart hammered against her chest so hard, his changed rhythm to match.
“There’d be hair all over my body, and I’d rub it all over you before catching your shoulder between my teeth. I’d need to hold you still to drive my cock deep inside—deeper than you’ve ever experienced. But we’d need a lot of time, because something special happens when I mate as a full wolf.”
Pia’s breath caught, and her chest expanded.
Max leaned back and cupped her breast tenderly. “Or I could transform partway, just enough to give me added strength—”
“More muscle?” she asked, her voice scratchy.
“More muscles on my muscle—and fine, downy hairs to rub all over your body.”
Pia’s belly quivered against his.
He slid between her legs and nudged his sex against her portal. “But I’d still have fingers to tease these luscious nipples and a mouth to kiss yours. So what’s it to be?” He squeezed her breast. “You have to be specific.”
“I want you to fuck me, Max. Fuck me like an animal.”
Pressing a kiss on the tip of her nose, he said, “Baby, it’s the only way I know.”
About Delilah Devlin
Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred fifty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths, and she is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Kindle, Kindle Worlds, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.
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From Knight Edition, Night Fall series, Book 4
Inigo cleared his throat politely. “Sir, I’m afraid we have an intruder.”
“I suppose you should call the police, then,” Master Navarro said, turning the next page of the ancient book he read without pausing.
Inigo shifted from one foot to the other, knowing he should do exactly as the Master had sugge
sted, but their trespasser piqued Inigo’s interest. Nothing ever disturbed the cadence of their days in the mansion. Master Navarro was a creature of habit. “Um…sir, perhaps you’d like to take a look for yourself.”
The Master looked up from his text, no question in his expression—nothing to indicate whether he was annoyed or intrigued. His gaze held Inigo frozen like a butterfly pinned to a mounting board for a long nerve-racking moment. “Very well,” he said, his voice evenly modulated. He rose slowly from his chair.
Inigo sighed his relief. While he wasn’t exactly sure what the Master would do if he were ever annoyed, Inigo hoped never to incite that emotion in his employer. He knew instinctively, down to his toes, that he wouldn’t survive such an occurrence.
However, life with this particular vampire was endlessly…predictable. Dealing with an intruder was at least a break in his routine.
Inigo followed close on the Master’s heels, down the stairs to the basement, through the wine cellar, and into the security room. “She’s coming over the north wall—and having a little difficulty by the look of it.”
The woman’s sweater had snagged on a tree branch as she straddled the brick wall. She jerked at the branch, but the tree wouldn’t relinquish her garment. With a hasty glance about the yard, she wriggled out of the sweater, leaving it dangling like a dark flag.
Inigo blinked, for the woman wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and her small breasts were the prettiest he’d seen in many a year.
The woman hugged herself, obviously freezing in the damp mist. Then she got her knees beneath her on the wall to give her greater height. She wobbled for a moment trying to gain her balance, and then reached out to the branch.
“Oh, my Lord,” Inigo cried out as she pitched to the ground.
The Master turned from the monitor. “You may call the police now.”
“Sir, did you not recognize her?”
“Should I know those pretty little breasts?”
Inigo flushed at Master Navarro’s choice of words—that was precisely what he’d been thinking. “No, no. I mean, she’s that reporter.”
“Yes, I know.” He fixed his narrowed gaze on Inigo. “Is there anything else?”
Disappointed with the Master’s lack of interest, he straightened. “No sir.”
“I’ll be in the library.” Master Navarro left without looking at the monitor again.
Inigo’s gaze returned to the screen. The woman hadn’t stirred from the ground. First, he’d find a blanket. Then he’d call the police.
*
“Miss, are you all right?”
Sidney had already decided the evening couldn’t get any worse. Now Lurch was leering at her tits.
Unfortunately, she’d fallen in the only patch of light cast by the streetlamp on the other side of the wall. She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think I’m all right—the grass is soft,” she said, fighting to keep irritation out of her voice. She’d hoped to reach the front door before being escorted off the property.
“I brought you a blanket.”
Sidney stared at the folded bundle he held out, then up at his face. It was really a rather kind face—if a little cadaverous. White, bristly hair stuck up around his head, and bushy eyebrows, looking like fluffy white beetles, shadowed his deep-set eyes. And he was alarmingly tall.
Sidney grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she struggled to her feet, assisted by his dry, bony hand. “Just point me to the gate,” she muttered, hoping he’d let her walk out with what was left of her dented pride. If a squad car showed up to take her to the station, she’d never hear the end of it.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, climbing over the fence was a very foolish thing to do.”
“It seemed like a plan at the time,” she said under her breath. “Of course, my Plan Bs always suck.”
His lips twitched. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t seriously injured.”
“Nope, I’m right as rain. I fell on my head—the hardest part of my body.” A chill wind picked up, and she gathered the blanket closer around her. “I’ll be on my way.” With a grimace of a smile, she turned toward the gate. Best to make a quick getaway.
“Ah…miss!”
Sidney paused, knowing her escape couldn’t be this easy—Murphy was running the show.
“You’re shivering. How about I make you a hot cup of tea before you leave.”
Sidney shot him a glance. What was he up to? She’d recognized his voice. He was the one who had turned her away at the gate. Was he planning to keep her here until the cops showed up? Or was he really offering her a kindness?
Her mama had never accused her of exercising an ounce of discretion. “I am cold. Tea would be lovely.”
The old man led her around the side of the house, through a darkened fragrant garden, and into the kitchen. Warmth embraced her, and Sidney was sure steam rose from her damp hair and skin.
He pointed to an inviting alcove in the corner of the kitchen. “Have a seat at the table while I rummage for the pot.”
As she sat at the cozy wooden table, Sidney couldn’t help thinking how ironic it was—this domestic little scene playing out in a vampire’s den.
“While the pot is boiling, I’ll search for something you can wear,” the elderly man said, then left through another door.
She counted to twenty before following.
The door led down a hallway, which opened into a large room with cream-colored walls and heavy, dark oak furnishings. She’d bet her paycheck the paintings gracing the pale walls were original, Old World art. Despite numerous overhead electrical fixtures, candles were lit in wall sconces and on the mantle above a massive fireplace.
“A little old fashioned, aren’t you, Mr. Navarro?” Sidney muttered. Where was he? And did she really have the courage to seek a lion in his den? She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was nervous.
Moses had said the master was a civilized vamp, but in the end, weren’t they all ghouls?
She hitched the sagging blanket higher and chose another door, which led into a dark, paneled study. A fire crackled in a hearth, but the room appeared empty. Perhaps the master wasn’t at home after all.
But his desk might reveal answers to some of her questions.
With a quick glance back at the living room, she quietly closed the door behind her.
“Miss Coffey, I think you’ve taken a wrong turn,” a deep, lightly accented voice said.
Sidney whirled toward a leather armchair hidden in the shadows. Firelight flickered to reveal the outline of a man seated there. She didn’t need two guesses to figure out who he was.
She drew a deep breath, racking her brain for a good excuse for her presence. “Um…Mr. Navarro. I was looking for you.” She stepped deeper into the room—but the blanket didn’t come with her.
She grasped frantically for the edges as it parted over her shoulders, but in her nervousness she stumbled forward. The blanket pulled away as she righted herself.
Her hands flew to her breasts. Good lord, can this evening get any worse? “M-mister Navarro,” she stammered, hoping the dim lighting hid her burning cheeks and everything else. “Um…I seem to have caught my blanket in the door.”
“Lovely though your breasts are, I think they should leave,” he said, his tone lacking inflection.
The flatness of his voice, and the fact she couldn’t read his expression in the shadows, left her unnerved. She hadn’t thought through her plan past getting onto the property. Confronting the vampire himself, she realized just how precarious her situation was. He was a bloodsucker after all. Still, he’d asked her to leave—not become a dinner entrée.
Humiliated and more than a little scared, Sidney decided a hasty retreat was her best option. She turned back to the door and tugged at the knob, but the door didn’t budge. She cursed under her breath and tugged again. Then her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I, uh…I’ve wedged the door closed. Could you help me?”
<
br /> He sighed behind her, and leather creaked as he rose.
Sidney covered her breasts again and stepped aside.
As he approached, his features were revealed in candlelight.
Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh. She’d heard the master vampire was handsome—but not one of her sources had mentioned he was downright beautiful—or that his dark gaze could pierce like a skewer.
She fought the urge to step farther away, but then her fear aroused anger within herself. Sidney Coffey was no mouse. She lifted her chin.
One black, perfectly arched brow rose, mocking her show of courage. He reached past her and easily pulled open the door. “I trust you can find your way out.”
The silky tone of his voice sent a shiver up her back, and her nipples drew tight and pointed beneath her palms.
From terror, she told herself. Certainly not from any sensual awareness. Never mind that this close, his height and lean, muscled frame made her feel very small and vulnerable. A sensation that never failed to stir her libido.
And the goose bumps lifting on her skin couldn’t be caused by the midnight-colored hair that brushed the tops of his broad shoulders, or the olive complexion that contrasted darkly with his snowy cotton shirt.
Her gaze lifted. Black, fathomless eyes glittered back in a slightly narrow face, saved from appearing effeminate by his square jaw and the masculine shape of his mouth.
She lingered over that mouth. Perfectly symmetrical, not too wide, or too narrow—and firm.
Sidney swallowed and slowly returned to his unblinking stare. With her own mouth dry as a desert, she swallowed. It was now or never. She wouldn’t get a second chance. She lowered her hands from her breasts and extended one sweaty palm. “Mr. Navarro, I’m Sidney Coffey, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Navarro stood still, bemused by the woman’s audacity as she offered her slim, pale hand. He drew in the scents that warred with her tight, composed features. She had guts standing there, half naked and shivering from a mixture of fear and arousal. “We have nothing to discuss. You may leave.”
Wolf in Plain Sight Page 12
