by Renee Rose
Don’t rush home.
My wolf wants Kylie alone. Which is probably the worst idea ever.
~.~
Kylie
I wake to the sound of Sam’s motorcycle pulling away and Jackson’s angry voice from the kitchen. “Who leaked it to the press? I will have their ass. Well, find out and terminate them before I get my hands on them. Understand? Good.”
Damn. Jackson’s shit storm just got worse if one of his employees leaked the situation to the press. I wonder if that means I’ve been named as the perpetrator? How long before the FBI is involved? I climb off the couch. The windows are dark, which means I must’ve slept all afternoon. I check the time on my laptop. Seven p.m.
Jackson’s starts up again—he must be making phone calls. “Get me Sarah, in PR.”
I jog upstairs, determined to take a shower and make myself presentable before he sees me. I fail miserably, because he walks out to the living room and watches me ascend the stairs while he yells at his public relations director.
I wince and give him a wave of surrender, mouthing the word shower.
He nods and continues with his tirade.
When the FBI gets involved, will he turn me in? I slip into his guest bathroom and the memory of what we did in there two nights ago comes rushing back.
I strip and climb into the shower, letting my fingers slide between my legs like last time.
I have another punishment coming.
I’m suddenly desperate for it. My time here may be limited. If the FBI is looking for me, I may have to leave in a hurry. And my business with Jackson feels unfinished.
I want his touch, his mastery, one more time.
Right, and he’s downstairs in crisis-control mode.
But maybe a little distraction is exactly what he needs, too. I could give him that blow job I didn’t get to start last time. It could be my penance for what I’ve done.
I rub my clit, excited by the prospect. But I don’t want to finish myself off. I’d much rather have Jackson’s skillful fingers there.
I shut off the water and step out, toweling off.
Yep, there’s only one way to play this. I wrap the towel around my waist and sashay downstairs, my bare breasts puckering in the cool evening air.
Jackson’s still on the phone, but, when he sees me, he stops speaking. He lifts one finger and points at me. I don’t know what it means, but I keep coming.
“You know what to do. Don’t call me until it’s done. Got it?” He hangs up. “Kitten.” His voice sounds strangled. “What in the hell are you doing?”
I play the coquette and bring one finger between my teeth, biting down. “Is it time for my punishment?”
“Fuck.” It comes out in a burst. His eyes look bluer than I’ve seen them—a pale blue. No sign of the green at all.
He points to the couch in the living room. “I’ll be right in.”
My palms are clammy. Despite my bravado, I have no idea what I’m doing. Seduction is a new game for me, and punishment is completely foreign. No, that’s not true. I’ve watched my share of fetish porn. But I’ve never experienced real pain. I’m not sure how I will like it.
Jackson returns holding a wooden spoon, and my stomach flips.
I bite my lower lip and work to keep my breath calm.
He sits down on the overstuffed brown suede sectional and pats his lap. “Lose the towel, kitten.”
My pussy clenches. I’m not sure whether I’m more excited or nervous, but either way, I’m going forward. I drop the towel to the floor and climb over his lap, offering my ass up for his punishment. I pray a wooden spoon isn’t the worst implement of torture in the world. It probably isn’t, since it was used regularly on children’s butts in the days when spanking was considered a useful and acceptable form of punishment. Not that I agree with such measures.
“Oh, kitten.” It sounds like a lament, a groan almost. Jackson runs his hand up the back of my thigh and over the curve of one cheek. I feel his hard length press against my hip.
I part my thighs.
“Baby, I’ll take care of that ache between your legs soon. But, you’re right. It’s time for your punishment, now.” He gives my ass a slap, but it’s just with his hand.
“Mmm,” I encourage him.
He slaps the other side and rubs away the sting. A few more slaps right and left and I start wiggling, wanting more.
He leans over and bites my ass, and I shriek and giggle. He chuckles, too.
“Okay, let’s say...twenty with the wooden spoon.”
I have no idea if that’s a lot or a little, since I haven’t felt the spoon yet, so I keep my mouth shut.
He leans over. “If it’s too much, baby, I want you to tell me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He groans. “I love it when you call me that.”
“Is that why you became a CEO?”
He pops me with the wooden spoon. It’s definitely worse than his hand, but not horrible. “No, baby. I don’t want anyone else to call me sir. Just you.” He starts spanking rapidly, one side then the other.
I roll my hips, jerking with the impact.
“I only love it from you. The rest of them can go fuck themselves.”
I squeeze my ass together. It hurts. A lot. But then it’s over. Twenty spanks in twenty seconds. I’m almost sorry it was only twenty. Almost.
Jackson strokes his palm over my twitching ass, and I moan softly. “I’m not sure that was enough,” he muses. “I didn’t know how you’d take it.” His fingers delve between my legs, and my thoughts scramble.
“Should we do another round, kitten? Twenty more?”
“No.”
Heat flushes everywhere; my pussy weeps for him.
“No?” His touch is so beguiling, fingers sliding up and down my slick folds. My brain can’t compute that he’s threatening me with more of the wooden spoon.
“Yes?” I say.
He growls, low and sexy. More like an approving rumble. “I like spanking you, kitten. Love having you spread across my lap for punishment.”
“Who else?” I choke, because, for some reason, I’m a jealous bitch when it comes to Jackson.
He stops moving. “Excuse me?”
“Who else have you spanked?”
His low chuckle goes straight to my erogenous zones, tightening my nipples, making my pussy squeeze. “Just you, baby. Only you.” He picks up the spoon again and pops me with it.
I definitely don’t like it this time, since I’m already sore from the first spanking, but I’m also not willing to say it’s too much. He applies another rapid-fire round, and I squirm and squeal over his lap. “Ouch, please!” I shout at the end, but he was stopping anyway.
His fingers immediately slip between my legs, and I can tell I’m three times as wet as before. I guess I did need a second spanking.
“Jesus, this cute little ass bobbing over my lap makes me want to do this all night.”
“Noooo,” I moan. I’m definitely not down for round three.
He chuckles and flips me over. He’s a big guy, and I know he’s strong, but I swear he makes it seem like I weigh less than three pounds. With one huge palm wrapped around my thigh, he pulls it open and lifts my hips. His mouth hits my core, ripping a scream from my lips.
Holy cunnilingus, Batman. His tongue circles my inner lips. He sucks and nips on my labia, suctions his lips over my clit.
I buck and claw at him, closing my mouth around the screams that won’t stop coming.
He growls, penetrating me with his thumb as he continues his earth-shattering torture of my lady parts.
I come unglued, a climax ripping through me with enough power to fuel a rocket ship.
“Fuck, kitten.” Jackson removes his mouth and pumps his digit in and out of me, watching my face as I finish.
One part of me thinks I should be embarrassed that he’s seeing my O-face, but the rest of me doesn’t care. Or, rather, believes he deserves the privilege, since he’s the one t
o produce it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” There’s desperation to Jackson’s tone. His eyes glow light blue. He flips me over again, this time onto my knees on the couch with my torso hanging over the arm of the sofa. He slaps my sore ass, and I hear the rustle of clothing.
I realize I’m about to lose my V-card. Things are moving so fast. Jackson’s breath is erratic, his movements jerky. He rubs the head of his cock over my sopping entrance. I don’t think he put a condom on. Part of me is thrilled to have inspired this much passion in him. The other part is—ouch.
I gasp, tears spearing my eyes when he shoves into me, breaking my resistance.
He freezes. “Kylie, no.”
I’m still holding my breath.
“Baby, no.” His torso covers mine, and he strokes my hair back from my face, trying to see me. His cock fills me, stretching my opening. Now that the initial shock of pain is gone, it feels good. I want him to start moving.
“I’m so sorry. Did I just—”
“Yes. I’m okay. Go on.”
He curses and eases out.
“Don’t you dare,” I snap. “You’re not taking this from me. Finish what you started, big man.”
He strokes my hip. “Kylie.” I hear the regret in his voice, and it pisses me off. I’m not a fucking china doll. Or maybe he doesn’t want to have sex with a virgin. Maybe it’s a total turnoff and he’s lost his erection.
“Don’t you dare,” I whisper again, and my voice breaks.
“Kylie.” His hands are gentle this time. He lifts me and tries to set me on his lap, but I’m too humiliated. I lurch off and run up the stairs. My nudity isn’t sexy anymore. It’s just…vulnerable.
Jackson’s right on my heels, but, to his credit, he doesn’t touch me. “Kylie. Kylie, wait. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I run into my bedroom, but when I try to shut the door in his face, he stops it with his hand.
Tears of frustration leak from the corners of my eyes.
“Kylie, please.” He puts his entire body in the doorframe, so there’s no way I’m closing it. I give up and walk to the bed, pulling on my day-old clothes.
“I’m sorry. I totally lost control. I didn’t even have a fucking condom on, and I had no idea you were a—”
I whirl around and glare at him, which stops the word from coming out of his mouth.
He shakes his head. “I never planned to have sex with you. I was just going to give you a little pleasure. But you were so fucking hot, and I lost control.” He shoves his fingers through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. “It’s better this way, kitten.”
Why does he look like he’s breaking up with me? I want to throw something at his sympathetic face.
“I’m glad something stopped us. I...can’t have sex with you.”
What in the hell is this? First, Sam tells me it’s not going to work, now, Jackson.
Why can’t he be with me? Why? Is he married already? Subject to seizures? I just can’t fucking figure out what makes it impossible for us to be together.
But I’m too fragile to drag it out of him now.
“I need to be alone, now,” I tell him.
His face falls. “Right. Okay. But, are you hurt? Promise me you’re not hurt.”
I lift my chin. “Definitely not hurt.” Not physically.
Jackson, on the other hand, looks like he’s in enormous pain. I notice his cock still bulges in his khakis.
Well, good. Serves him right for stopping. I hope those blue balls hurt him all night long.
~.~
Jacqueline
Jacqueline rolls over in the dirt and groans. She’s too old for this crap. If her granddaughter wasn’t in terrible danger, she would let herself die out here in the desert.
It would be so easy. She suffered so many bullet wounds. Four, at least. Not even a shifter should be able to survive a bullet to the head.
But she’s still breathing, so that must mean she survived.
How long has she been out here?
An entire night and day, at least. Could be more; she was in and out of consciousness.
But the cat in her rallied, pushing the bullets out of her flesh, closing the wounds. There’s one still stuck in her head, though. And she’s lost a lot of blood. She just wants to sleep.
But Minette. Her petite fille is in danger. The men who kidnapped her have plans for Minette. She has to get help. If only she could shift.
Usually, if a shifter is badly wounded while in human form, their body will naturally shift to beast for protection and healing. Why she is still in her weak, human form, she doesn’t know. It must have something to do with the head wound.
She needs to get to other shifters.
They’ve only been in Tucson a week, but she paid a visit to the wolf alpha, Garrett, to introduce herself a few days ago. She needs to get to him. He’ll be able to help.
She forces herself to her hands and knees and then to her feet. Her clothes are stiff, covered in blood and dirt. She can’t scent her way to civilization because nothing but the smell of blood fills her nostrils.
Maybe it would be best to wait until morning, when she can judge the direction of the sun. But she doesn’t want to spend another night out in the cold. Not in human form.
Shift, dammit, shift.
Why can’t she shift?
~.~
Jackson
I am the biggest ass. I pace in my bedroom, listening for every creak or movement from Kylie’s room.
I feel horrible about taking Kylie’s virginity without asking. Without even using protection. Even worse, if things had continued, I would have marked her. I was already half beast. No thoughts were moving through my brain, other than to take her. Claim her.
Mark her as my mate.
Yes, if I hadn’t hit her virginal resistance, I might have sunk my coated teeth right into her shoulder, tearing her delicate human flesh, possibly even killing her.
But the fact I wounded her pride—insulted her by stopping—made the situation insufferable. How did I not realize she was so inexperienced? In retrospect, it should have been obvious by her blushes, yet she carries herself with such confidence, sexual and otherwise, I never guessed.
The wolf in me preens over being her first, which disgusts me even more. I didn’t even make it good for her. It was a negative five on a scale of one to ten.
And yet, I can’t figure out how to make it better. I can’t finish what I started. If I learned anything tonight, it’s that I can’t trust myself. Especially with the moon full.
Kylie’s emotions aren’t my only problem tonight, either. Someone leaked the story to the press, naming Kylie as the culprit. I will have feds at the office tomorrow, wanting to investigate her, and I sure as hell can’t let them find her.
I log onto my computer to check how the story is coming out in the press.
Art Thief Vigilante’s Daughter Hacks SeCure Corporation.
Art thief? I pull up the story to read about Kylie.
“Daughter of Robin Hood-style art thief Jacob Anders, Kaye Anders, also known as Kylie McDaniel, may be responsible for hacking into SeCure Corporation and stealing hundreds of thousands of credit card numbers. McDaniel was hired by the company just days before she hacked the system and installed malware.
“Sarah Smith, Public Relations Director from SeCure corporation says owners of the accounts breached will be notified as soon as possible, and they are recommending the cancellation of all credit cards affected by the breach.
“Smith says it is unknown whether McDaniel staged the breach as another vigilante-style heist, following in the footsteps of her father. Jacob Anders was best known for reclaiming art and other antiquities stolen by the Nazis during World War II and returning the treasures to their rightful owners or to museums. His body was discovered in The Louvre in 2009 with multiple stab wounds that law enforcement officials believe to have been inflicted by a partner during a heist. The Degas painting ‘Elegant Dan
cer,’ a painting reportedly confiscated from convicted Nazi war criminal Hedwig Model and donated to the Louvre, was discovered missing from the art museum at the time.
“McDaniel, whose other aliases include the hacker moniker Catgirl, has been wanted for questioning since the 2009 murder but has not surfaced again until now.
“FBI officials were not available for comment, but the spokesperson from SeCure Corporation says they will work hand in hand with law enforcement to aid in McDaniel’s arrest and will press charges to the full extent of the law.”
Kylie, an art thief, in addition to the most talented hacker in the world. My beautiful, talented little cat burglar. But Jesus, she watched her father murdered before her eyes. No wonder she has PTSD. I’ve got to protect her.
A growl rumbles in my chest, my wolf ready to go on the hunt. No one is going to touch my kitten. I don’t know how to fix this, but I sure as hell am not going to let Kylie—or whatever her real name is—take the fall.
I hired a hacker and thief into my company. The PR is going to be hell.
A whimper sounds from her room, and I surge to my feet, flying out the door to stand outside hers.
Another whimper.
I gently push open the door. My little hacker’s asleep on her side, one arm tossed over her head, which she rolls back and forth fitfully.
Bad dream.
I ease onto the bed behind her, curling my much larger body around hers. “Shh, baby. It’s just a dream.”
She whimpers louder. “Can’t get out can’t get out can’t get out.” Her breath drags in and out, too fast, the way it did in the elevator.
I rest my hand on her ribs and give her a gentle shake. “Kylie. Kitten. Wake up, baby.”
She startles awake with a scream.
I start to cover her mouth but realize it will only make the claustrophobia worse, so I go for her sternum again. “Breathe, baby. In. Out. You’re safe. It was a dream. Just a dream, kitten.”
She lets out a tremulous whimper, and I roll her to her back to see her face in the dark.
