Curves for Three (Quick & Sexy Wolves Book 1)

by Zoey Thames

  Table of Contents

  Look for these titles from Zoey Thames

  Copyright Warning

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  Coming Soon

  Look for these titles from Zoey Thames

  Now Available

  Quick & Sexy Wolves

  Curves for Three (Book One)

  Coming Soon

  Curves for Fighters (Book Two)

  Curves for Three

  Quick & Sexy Wolves Book One

  Zoey Thames

  Copyright Warning

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Curves for Three

  Quick & Sexy Wolves Book One

  Copyright © 2015 by Zoey Thames

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First electronic publication: May 2015

  Dedication

  For J.J. and his beautiful husky.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Vicki Thompson’s stomach fluttered with nervous tension as she waited next to her limousine, watching billionaire Davidson Kenner’s private jet taxi down the runway. Tonight would be one of the most challenging of her entire life. Even so, she shouldn’t be nervous and she was annoyed at her how uneasy she’d been all night. She’d had over two years worth of training by Mirage Confidential Limo Service in how to serve the powerful and the rich, not to mention the ridiculously famous. Why should she be nervous tonight of all nights? She could drive through New York blindfolded. She was polite, discrete, attractive, young…and she knew she looked dead-sexy in her limo driver uniform. If she did a good job, Mr. Kenner would likely sign off on his bill with a huge tip for her.

  So why was she edgy? Simple. Davidson Kenner was the hottest billionaire Vicki had ever seen. He had piercing ice-blue eyes, movie-star looks, and a body that—when she’d once seen tabloid photos of him on the beach—had made her knees weak. Tight muscle packed onto perfect proportions and washboard abs. In the picture, he’d been wearing swim trunks and walking out of the waves, so the suit had been clinging to him. Good lord, he’d had a sizable package too. She’d been so turned on while waiting in the grocery store line that she’d had to look away from the front-page photo fast. She’d felt her nipples tightening against her bra cups and her pussy starting that warm ache of sexual need that had her wet and yearning for a hard cock to set her right. And a grocery store checkout wasn’t really the place to be feeling that way.

  She’d bought the tabloid magazine of course. Then, safely home, she’d hurried into the bedroom of her small apartment, pushed up her skirt, yanked down her panties, and finger-fucked herself until she came hard. The whole time she’d fantasized about Davidson Kenner walking out of the ocean, moving gracefully to her, and then bending her over a beach chair and fucking her until she was shuddering with pleasure. That had been one of the most intense orgasms she’d ever given herself…but self-gratification never compared to the real thing. And now she was waiting for the real thing.

  The real thing would be in the back of her limo all night, and she’d be waiting on his orders. Heaven help her.

  The private jet finished taxing into position. The ground crew moved the motorized stairs into place below the door. Vicki’s heart began to beat harder. She glanced herself over again, double-checking her presentation. The uniform that Mirage Confidential drivers had to wear was very well cut, black with long sleeves, dark gray gloves, jaunty cap, and slacks that complimented her bold curves. Black leather boots that came to mid-calve. She was curvy, not skinny like a supermodel, but she had good proportions, so she often got compliments from her clients on her appearance, from both male and sometimes even females. The key was self-confidence. That was what made a woman beautiful, and Vicki was confident enough to show it.

  Usually.

  But as soon as Davidson Kenner stepped through the airplane door and began to walk down the stairs, all her confidence vanished in a puff of smoke. Damn, he was so attractive it almost hurt to look at him. It hurt because she didn’t want him to read her desire in her eyes, and that meant battling her own desires to keep them hidden.

  Worst of all, Mr. Kenner was one of the Big Apple paranormal ultra-wealthy—a werewolf billionaire in fact. He’d been part of the big paranormal world-reveal that had brought all the supernatural creatures into human society peacefully. Vicki was human. If she got all wet and hot for him, his sensitive werewolf nose would scent her out right away. He’d know the sight of him made her want to lie down and spread her legs for his hard cock. Oh God, don’t think about his cock…

  Davidson Kenner had reached the bottom of the stairs and spotted her. When his blue eyes found hers, it took all her strength to stay professional and not melt into a warm puddle at his feet. He smiled and started toward her. She smiled back, years of training giving her a bright, friendly smile no matter what kind of inner turmoil she was experiencing.

  Another man walked alongside Kenner as if he were an equal. He was big, dressed in a good suit—not as nice as Kenner’s, but still high quality—with shoulders she bet they could land an airplane on. He was heavily muscled and had a shaved head. As handsome and friendly as Kenner was, this man appeared serious and focused as he scanned around the night-dark private airport runway that was used exclusively for VIPs. He must be the bodyguard…though she wasn’t sure. In her experience, bodyguards generally didn’t walk right beside the people they guarded.

  Her attention returned to Davidson Kenner as he closed in on her. She stood perfectly straight, shoulders back, chest out as she’d been trained. She couldn’t help but bite her lip when Kenner’s gaze trailed from hers down to her chest and the rest of her body as if he owned her. It was such an alpha male thing to do, but she wasn’t annoyed. When he met her gaze again, she would’ve sworn she recognized the heat of desire in his eyes. It was a decadent and intense consideration, and his smile told her he liked what he saw. Her heart was about to beat its way out of her chest, she was so…so…what? Excited? Terrified? Turned on? All of the above? Davidson Kenner was even sexier in person, something that probably should’ve been illegal in all fifty states.

  She’d always heard that sex with shifters was supposed to be life-changing. Nobody fucked better, according to Vicki’s best friend Samantha. Vicki had never indulged, even though she’d had offers and she routinely drove werewolves around the city. She had nothing against shifters, and God knew she was tense enough these days that she could use an orgasm to leave her poleaxed into relaxation, but she’d never gone through with it. She wouldn’t be fired for any dalliance with a client, as long as she was di
screet and it was her choice. Mirage Confidential Limo Service specialized in catering to the unique needs of the rich, powerful, and famous paranormal clientele and as long as everyone went home happy…

  So why hadn’t she indulged? Because she liked to play it safe. Safe driving. Safe with the clients. Sure, she might be passing up mind-blowing sex, but then again, it kept things simple. Uncomplicated. She loved simple and safe. Her whole life had been that way.

  Safe. And boring.

  Davidson Kenner had reached the limo. She opened the door for him and bowed slightly. “Welcome, Mr. Kenner.”

  He dropped his blue-eyed gaze to the embossed nametag on her uniform, then flashed her a brilliant smile that made her feel like the center of the universe for a wonderful few seconds.

  “Hello, Vicki Thompson. I’m really looking forward to tonight.” He glanced at the man she suspected was his bodyguard, though her dispatch from the office hadn’t said she’d be driving anyone but Mr. Kenner. “Isn’t that right, Mick? We deserve a night off, don’t we?”

  Mick replied with a grunt that could’ve been amused agreement or disgusted disagreement, she couldn’t tell. The bodyguard looked her over, though his gaze wasn’t anywhere near as scorching hot as Kenner’s had been. He wasn’t bad-looking, shaved head or no, maybe a little scary in an imposing, tough guy way. It was simply that Davidson Kenner was so good-looking that he cast everyone else in shadow.

  Mr. Kenner laughed. “Eloquent as always.” He grinned at Vicki. “He talks more once you get to know him.”

  “Once I get you somewhere safe, you mean,” the man Mr. Kenner had called Mick replied, his voice almost a growl.

  Mr. Kenner winked at her as he climbed inside. She held the door as the bodyguard Mick followed. Once they were inside, she walked briskly and professionally to the driver’s side door, opened and climbed in. She made certain her uniform was straight and her cap was on at the correct angle. Her nervousness had reached a plateau. She could handle it now. Sure Kenner was drop-dead gorgeous and probably a werewolf sex god if rumors were true, but she could keep things professional. He seemed like a surprisingly nice guy too. Many clients didn’t do much more than nod to her and give her orders about where they wanted her to take them—not that she minded, since that was her job. But Mr. Kenner was certainly friendly.

  Well, at least tonight would be interesting. She’d seen all kinds of wild things going on in the back of her limo. Sometimes the clients put up the privacy shield, other times they didn’t bother. Mirage Confidential guaranteed discretion. Vicki was paid a bonus for keeping secrets and never going to the tabloids no matter what. So she’d seen some crazy-wild and sexy stuff on occasion. Blowjobs were common. Ménages every once in awhile, where some rock star or foreign ambassador would bring two girls along to fuck. One night a visiting VIP from Brazil had handcuffed a supermodel then opened the sunroof. He’d made the model stand there with her upper body buffeted by the night air while he hiked up her skirt and proceeded to lick and tease her pussy, eating her out like a starving man. She’d been screaming with pleasure as they’d cruised down 52nd Street in New York for everyone to see. The whole thing had been both over the top and so wickedly hot that Vicki had even replayed it in one of her fantasies with her vibrator. She’d imagined a handsome guy doing the same to her as she was chauffeured through the New York night with the skyscrapers towering overhead, while he flicked his tongue over her clit until she was half crazy with bliss.

  Even remembering it was turning her on. Her pussy started to get wet, that familiar ache tightening her core down there, making her feel on edge. She glanced in the rearview mirror and looked right into the eyes of Davidson Kenner. Her heart skipped a beat and her mouth went dry. He smiled at her—a knowing smile that nearly had her overheating—and then he tilted his head and sniffed the air, as if scenting her arousal. She didn’t know whether to die of embarrassment or to come right then.

  But when he spoke to her over the intercom, his deep voice was entirely professional. “Could you take us to Central Park? I need to spend a little time in the wild.”

  Mick’s voice was gravelly and rough as the intercom microphone accidentally caught his words. “A park is a poor excuse for the wild.”

  “I’d be happy to take you there, sir,” she answered immediately, pretending she hadn’t overheard the bodyguard. She’d taken plenty of shifters there for runs. Since the werewolves of New York had come out of hiding to the world and openly started running through Central Park as wolves, crime in the park had dropped to next to nothing. There weren’t many places for shifters to cut loose in their animal form in Manhattan, so the park was extremely popular.

  “Thank you, Vicki,” Mr. Kenner said, and the intercom went off. She liked the man. It wasn’t simply sexual attraction, though she was burning hot enough to spontaneously combust. He was one of the richest and most powerful men in the country and he bothered to thank her and remember her name. He was clearly a gentleman, and what girl didn’t find that swoon-worthy?

  She had a feeling this was going to be a very special night.

  * * *

  Davidson Kenner loosened the knot in his silk tie and glanced out the window at the always-impressive New York skyline. He was feeling a hundred times better than he had cooped up on his private plane. No matter how luxurious the jet, his wolf never liked to fly. Now that he was on the ground again, his blood was up and he was ready for some action. Fucking, fighting, partying, dancing. He didn’t care. He wanted to feel alive again after a week spent in Chicago in meeting after meeting with the corporate heads of the companies he owned.

  He glanced at Mick, who was sitting next to him and glaring out the window as if he believed there was a chance of attack on their limo. Maybe a spontaneous riot or something. As if a werewolf couldn’t take care of himself. Oh well. Mick was an old friend long before being a lover. If his friend felt that keeping Davidson safe from non-existent threats was worthwhile, and that kept him happy, then he wasn’t going to deny Mick the pleasure.

  “So…” Davidson said, straightening his tie. “What do you think?”

  Mick frowned at him, an expression that always made him look as though he were ready to kill someone. “Of what? The DeVaggio account? The weather? The price of a barrel of oil? Your inability to keep a low profile in New York? What?”

  Davidson grinned. “You know what you need? You need a good run, a good fight, and a good fuck.”

  Mick snorted, but his mouth turned up into a smile. “Who’s going to do that? I always kick your ass.”

  “You’re delusional, and I’m the one who makes you come until you’re down for the count,” Davidson shot back. He glanced at the pretty limo driver. He’d put the privacy shield up, and now he could see her but she couldn’t see them. “What I meant was, what do you think of our lady driver?”

  Mick slid a hand over his shaved head and gave her a speculative look. “She’s hot. You always like women in uniform.”

  “I’ll be damned…I never knew you’d noticed.”

  “How can I not? Your dick stands up at attentions any time we’re around women cops, waitresses, flight attendants, meter maids—”

  “Okay, okay. You made your point, you bastard. I don’t know why I keep you around and pay you all that money. I’m the boss around here.”

  “That’s right, boss. And you pay me well because I’m great at my job and I tell you like it is. Besides, every alpha needs a good right-hand wolf.”

  “Let me know where I can find one and I’ll hire him on the spot,” Davidson said with a grin. He always enjoyed the banter with Mick. The rest of the wolves in his pack were still in awe of their billionaire ultra-successful alpha. Even though he’d enjoyed the deference in his younger days, now it was getting a bit old. He was more interested in enjoying himself than in lording his status over other people. Take the limo driver, for instance. She was a human with plentiful curves, that classic beauty they called Rubenesque, with dark blonde hai
r and hazel eyes. He’d sensed both her arousal and how he’d intimidated her, but damned if she didn’t keep a professional demeanor the entire time. He respected that.

  He poured himself something from the limo’s minibar. Twenty-five year old Chivas Regal on the rocks. He glanced at Mick. “Want something?”

  “Not when I’m on duty, boss.”

  “You’re not on duty, though. A werewolf alpha doesn’t need a bodyguard, even in New York. So why don’t you cut loose a little?”

  “Maybe later,” Mick answered and glanced out the window at the New York lights, nearly as bright as day, signaling that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  Davidson took a sip of his drink, loving the warm burn as it slid down his throat. Ah, well. He’d drink alone. He idly wondered if the lovely woman driving him around would be more interested in having fun than his safety-obsessed bodyguard. If he involved her, would that finally get Mick to pull the coatrack out of his ass and have some fun for once?

  It was worth the risk, anyway. He glanced at Mick, then looked at Vicki again, a bunch of decadent possibilities slowly forming in his mind. He deserved some fun. They all did. It was important not to forget that life was good and getting better. It needed to be enjoyed.

  His humanitarian and peace projects were finally seeing some results on the world stage. He had his best friend with him. He was in the City That Never Sleeps, horny and rich, in a limo with a gorgeous, sexy limo driver who’d had his cock half hard at the first sight of her luscious curves in that crisp and sexy uniform. Also, gloves. She was wearing some kind of gray velvet glove as part of her limo uniform, and a woman’s delicate hand wrapped in a glove always turned him the fuck on. He closed his eyes and briefly imagined her gloved hand encircling his hard cock and slowly stroking him, the cool velvet so deliciously different than what he was used to. He’d probably shoot his cum everywhere within seconds of her touching him, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Luckily, werewolves had huge sex drives.