Bad Moon Rising

by Delilah Devlin

  The bathroom door opened, and she looked away, closing her eyes.

  “I know you’re awake. Don’t go playin’ possum now.”

  DiDi opened her eyes and gave him a glare. She wanted to shout at him—for the cuffs, for leaving her naked and vulnerable, and for making her so hot she’d left behind common sense and every shred of modesty on the forest floor.

  Good Lord, all he wore was a towel.

  Mason sat on the bed beside her, his gaze settling on the handcuffs before raking her body. “You need a bath.”

  “If you’ll unlock these and leave, I’ll take care of that,” she said between clenched teeth. Clenched, because now she was shivering. Frightened and aroused. And worried because she knew she had reason to be afraid. And yet her arousal was every bit as strong as when she’d been driven from her bed and into the woods in the first place. “Did you drug me?”

  His body froze, the shallow rise and fall of his chest his only movements. “No.”

  “You have to be lying. I would never…” She screwed up her face and glanced away before he could see the moisture gathering in her eyes.

  A finger tucked under her chin and turned her face toward him. “You weren’t drugged. But I am responsible for what you felt and for what’s happening now.”

  “What’s happening to me now?” she bit out.

  “You’re aroused. Don’t bother denyin’ it. I can smell it.”

  “Bastard!” Embarrassed, she lashed out, swinging her free hand at his face and connecting.

  He jerked but didn’t try to deflect the blow, nor the one that followed. His lips tightened, but he stayed within reach.

  She curled her fingers into her palm, wanting to hit him with her fist, determined to get a reaction, but she let her hand fall to the bed, because she didn’t really want to hit him again. Instead, she wanted him to hold her. How sick was that?

  He glanced to the nightstand, picked up a tiny key from its surface, and leaned over her body, his face dipping toward hers then turning away as he reached for the cuff around her wrist and unlocked it.

  As soon as she was free, she scooted away, onto the floor, and tugged at the coverlet, until he rose and she could pull it around her to shield her nakedness.

  One of those sinfully expressive brows of his rose. “A little late, don’t you think?”

  Maybe, but she felt less at a disadvantage with her body covered. “I want you out of here.”

  “Think that’s a good idea?”

  “Do you think I’d be smarter to let you stay after what happened?”

  “What do you think happened?”

  Two strong, attractive men, a verdant forest floor…the hottest sex this side of heaven. Her body responded moistly to the images that flickered through her mind. Pressing her mouth tight, she shook her head. “Just get out.”

  He planted his hands on his hips, his expression impassive. “I’m stayin’ with you tonight. I won’t touch you. My word.”

  Exasperated with his stubbornness, she blew out a hot breath. “Why won’t you go?”

  “Because it’s not over yet, DiDi. Do you hear them?” He swung an arm toward the window.

  “Hear what?” she asked automatically, but then she caught the faint sounds outside her motel room. A stark squall followed by an angry rumble. Then another squall more distant. Cats again. That part had seemed even less real than what had happened with Mason and Bobby.

  “But I’m safe now,” she said. “Inside this room. A door stands between me and them.”

  “But they got a whiff of you. And even though that door will keep you safe from them gettin’ to you, I’m the one who’ll keep you from openin’ that door again.”

  “I won’t.” But even as she said it, the suffocating sensual heat made her head swim. The room was spinning, and her knees weakened. She crumpled to the floor. He moved so quickly, she didn’t have time to hold out a hand to keep him away.

  He bent and lifted her gently into his arms.

  “What’s the matter with me?” she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder and dragging in his fresh scent.

  “You’re marked.”

  What? “I don’t understand,” she moaned.

  “Now’s not the time to explain. Let me take care of you. This is my fault. Let me make amends.”

  Why won’t he explain? She pouted her lips. “You want to fuck me again.”

  “I do, but I won’t. I promise.”

  She tilted back her head to glare. “Like you promised not to touch me again?”

  A muscle flexed along his jaw. “Guess I can’t help myself,” he whispered.

  Their lips were only an inch apart. DiDi stared at his mouth, at the tightening of his lips, and then glanced up and was snared by the banked heat in his eyes. “I swear I’m not like this. I don’t know myself. I mean, you’re attractive. I noticed that the first time I saw you, but I tend to take my time before…”

  “I’m not judgin’ you. But I’ll help you get through the night.” His gaze narrowed. “If you’ll let me.”

  DiDi laid her palm against the cheek she’d slapped, lining up her fingers with the reddened stripes she’d left. Then she leaned toward him and kissed his mouth, following her instincts as she rimmed his lips with her tongue then thrust it inside.

  Mason’s arms tightened around her slim body. She smelled like dirt and sex. Her skin was smeared with mud and cum. And yet, she’d never been more attractive to him, never more elemental.

  The kiss was carnal, wet, delicious. Her tongue explored, sliding deep and retreating. He followed it, curving his own to taste her lips and rake the edges of her teeth.

  His arms tightened to steel bands, not to hold her tighter against him, but to hold himself back. He hadn’t let loose with a woman in ages. Every instinct had him fighting the panther inside him, wanting to devour her, to lap at her sex then sink teeth and cock deep into her body.

  In their distant past, his kind had killed as many women as they bred, before they’d learned discipline. Some still resisted leashing their inner cat and pushed the limits—as Bobby had done tonight. He hadn’t left her raked by teeth or claws. But he had taken her mid-transformation—something forbidden outside the mate-bond.

  At the time, Mason had been furious, and he would confront Bobby as soon as this night was over. In the meantime, he had to keep this woman safe. Even if doing so meant he had to fuck her again.

  Only he wouldn’t lie to himself. He wasn’t doing this just to keep her safe. DiDi had tempted him past all control. That first kiss, when she’d pressed her Coke-sweetened lips against him and pushed her hardened nipples against his chest, had forced his response. He’d nuzzled her, leaving his scent, leaving his “mark”—his cat’s powerful pheromone—on her skin for it to work its way through her blood.

  No, she hadn’t been drugged, not exactly, but the mystical nature of his inner cat’s potent excretion had made it impossible for her to resist the call.

  She sighed into his mouth then broke the kiss, pulling back and resting her cheek against his shoulder, her gaze still fixed on his face. “I need that bath,” she whispered.

  “Settle for a shower?”

  “My knees are weak.”

  “Not gonna be a problem.”

  She liked the way his eyes smiled although his expression remained neutral. The man liked to think he had complete control, but she thought that maybe she could break him down a bit. Only then would her torn pride be soothed. So much of what happened tonight remained hazy, but she suspected he had complete clarity. Embarrassing clarity. Why couldn’t the encounter have all been a dream?

  Mason strode toward the bathroom, carrying her easily, and again, she was impressed despite herself. Lord knew, she liked physical strength in a man.

  He set her on her feet next to the toilet, which reminded her of what had woken her in the first place. “Um…could you leave me for a minute?”

  His gaze dropped to the toilet. “Why? You used it while I
held you before.”

  That fact she didn’t need to know. Her cheeks fired up like a furnace. “Tell me you’re teasing me.” One corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile that reminded her of Bobby Sonnier’s sly smiles.

  “Yeah, I am. I’ll leave you alone, but don’t lock the door against me. It won’t do you any good.”

  When he closed the door behind him, she dropped the sheet, gripped the edge of the counter, and stared into the mirror. She didn’t recognize the woman with the large, wild eyes. She noted other disturbing details of her appearance—the brambles in her hair, the scratches on her skin, dirt everywhere, but especially on her inner thighs and co-mingled with streaks of dried semen. Dear God, it really had happened.

  “DiDi,” Mason called through the door.

  “I’m all right. Just a minute.” She took care of business and flushed, and then started the shower. The door handle turned, and she darted into the tub before the water had warmed, gasping at the chill temperature.

  The curtain whooshed back. Mason’s towel was gone.

  She flattened her back against the tile to move as far from him as she could in the small space. “This isn’t necessary,” she said, hating that her voice was hoarse.

  “You can’t reach your back.”

  Arms crossed over her front, she gave him a glare. “That’s a fucking weak excuse.”

  He moved closer, towering over her. “You done arguin’?”

  DiDi shook her head, but a wave of knee-buckling heat swept through her and she swayed, sliding her hands on the tiles to grab something, anything to steady her.

  Mason reached for her hips and gripped her, keeping her from sinking. Humor fled from his expression, and a tic pulsed beside one eye. “Just give up, will you? I won’t hurt you. I’ll give you what you require. Everything you need.”

  “And if I want more from you, Sheriff Breaux?”

  He held still, his eyes unblinking, until she had to concede the staring contest. Her pussy was swollen and hot, her breasts hard and aching. “Just touch me. For fuck sake, do something,” she groaned and reached for his shoulders.

  He pulled a washcloth from the items draped over the rail at the end of the shower, rubbed a small bar of soap into it, and turned her to face the wall. “Brace yourself. Don’t want you fallin’. You look done in.”

  DiDi said nothing, certainly not voicing the set down he deserved. She planted her hands on the cool white tiles and leaned her forehead there, too, as Mason Breaux scrubbed her back and bottom, then knelt behind her and washed her legs. When the cloth strayed between her spread thighs, she bit her lip to hold back a gasp.

  The cloth left her skin. “If you’d like to take care of the rest on your own…” he rumbled beside her ear.

  But she didn’t, not now. She turned slowly and leaned back, flattening her hands against the wall, opening her legs only far enough for him to work the cloth between her thighs, but not in any way inviting him to do more than bathe her. “This is all so strange,” she whispered when he knelt again and gently parted her labia to wash her sex. Each drag of the terrycloth coaxed her into rocking her hips to follow his motions.

  He draped the cloth over the side of the tub, but his fingers continued to rub between her folds. Next he leaned close and tongued her clit, and she wasn’t shocked. A sigh of relief seeped between her lips.

  Those wicked fingers held her open, and he slid two more up inside her pussy—long, thick fingers that would do nicely if he’d get serious about stimulating her hardening nub.

  She reached out, gripped the front of his hair, and pulled his head closer to her sex.

  Mason didn’t tease her, obliging her instantly by pulling her clit between his lips and sucking hard as he fingered her.

  Moments later, she came, and her knees gave way, but he slipped an arm around her buttocks and held her up, milking every last contraction until at last they faded, leaving her trembling inside his embrace.

  Mason stood, gripped her waist in a bruising hold, and lifted her.

  DiDi wrapped her legs around his waist and grunted softly when her back met the wall.

  He entered her in one strong thrust. His gaze held hers locked together as tightly as their bodies were while he fucked her, lunging his hips upward, spearing deeply, filling her so completely she quickened again, her vagina clamping hard around his cock.

  “You lied,” she groaned, thrusting her fingers through his hair. “You said you wouldn’t touch me. Wouldn’t fuck me.”

  “I’m as helpless as you are to fight this.”

  “Are you marked?” she asked, although she really didn’t understand the concept.

  He grunted, stroking hard toward her core. “It doesn’t work that way,” he gasped.

  Her body slipped against the cool tile. “Then why can’t you resist?”

  “I can’t resist you.”

  Which was all she needed to hear. She wasn’t alone in this. The attraction was equal, mutual, and unrelenting.

  She dug her nails into his back and held on for dear life, because his thrusts were turning wild and harsh, banging her against the stall. Bruises would appear on top of the scratches, but she didn’t care. Like feral animals, they clawed closer, answering a primal call that was fresh for her, but seemingly familiar to him.

  Before this night was done, DiDi swore she’d get an explanation for what drove her to act this way. But for now, she was simply overwhelmed by their powerful chemistry, cast deep into a whirlwind of sensation while the distant, multiple squalls of large cats made her tremble.

  *

  Daylight crept beneath the edge of the thick curtains at the window. DiDi pried open an eye and watched the dust motes floating in the shaft of light. She lay on her side, afraid to breathe too deeply, while she listened for any telltale signs Mason was still here. But other than her own shallow breaths, the room was silent.

  She turned her head and felt keen disappointment that the fact was true. Mason had left her sometime early that morning. After he’d fucked her in the shower, and then again in the bed.

  Flipping back the covers, she rolled to her back and stared at the fan that swirled overhead as it cooled her overheated and over-sensitized skin. No longer did the overwhelming urge to crawl toward anything with a dick run through her, but she did still feel achy and wet—deliciously used.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Miz Devereaux ….” came Bobby Sonnier’s deep purring voice.

  DiDi groaned and pulled the sheet over her head. Facing Mason had been embarrassing enough. Humiliation had been forgotten in the desperate passion they’d shared. But she’d let this other stranger thrust inside her ass while she’d ridden Mason. Not something she’d ever done before. Not something she was eager to repeat. “Go away,” she moaned and checked the glowing face of the digital clock. Three o’clock! She sat up, horrified to see the day was almost gone.

  “Promise I’m not lookin’ for more of what you gave me last night, lady,” he said in his accented voice.

  “Shhh!” she hissed. “Do you want everyone to hear you?”

  “Everyone already heard last night.”

  The humor in his voice made her eyes bulge. Couldn’t be true. They’d been pretty deep inside the woods last night. He was only embarrassing her.

  DiDi sat up and grabbed the top sheet, pulling it with her when she walked to the door. She cracked it open two inches. “What are you doing here?”

  His dark gaze went to the sheet she clutched in front of her breasts. “Heard you own the Gauthier house.”

  She eyed him warily. Would he have a problem with her ownership, same as Mason? “I do.”

  “House has gone to seed. You’ll need help. I’m here to give it.”

  Only the way he said the last two words sounded too sexy for him to be talking about a handyman’s chores—not in his rasping purr. Why is he doing this? She eyed him warily. “I haven’t decided what to do with the house. I haven’t even been out there yet.”

&
nbsp; “You’ll need a ride. And I brought breakfast burritos from Andy’s.”

  His mouth curved into a smirk—not a nasty one, but one that invited her to share in the joke. He was a charmer all right. A loud rumble from her empty stomach caused a blush that began at her breasts and flushed upward, heating her face. She eyed the beat-up truck parked in front of her room. “My car’s in the shop. I had hoped to rent something.”

  “Got to have a car to get to Destiny. Only place you can rent one.”

  “Are you telling me you’re my only option?”

  His dark chocolate eyes glinted, the corners crinkling with an easy smile. “Any man in dis town would offer you da same, but I’m tellin’ you you’re safe with me. I’ll drive you dere, wait while you have a look around. Den we talk about the work. There be lots of work.”

  Did he need a job? Was that why he was so adamant? If she were in need of a handyman, she knew Bobby should be the last person she hired. Just the thought of having him constantly underfoot made her itchy.

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll take you there. No strings.”

  Or handcuffs, she almost quipped, but managed to suppress the urge. Something about him made her want to smile or want to share a joke. He was the most attractive male she’d ever seen, but she thought she might be becoming immune to his good looks. She’d seen Mason naked. Tongued most of his body that last time, when he’d allowed her to push him to the bed and let her anchor him with her open thighs.

  Lord, she was getting hot again. And the perv at her door knew it—if the darkening of his glance and the sensuous pout of his mouth was any indication. “No funny stuff. Your clothes stay on.”

  His grin was unrepentant. “Get dressed. I’ll wait out here, chère.”

  “Damn straight,” she muttered.

  After a minute-long shower and a hasty grab for anything not too rumpled at the top of her suitcase, she eased out the door, keys to the house shoved deep inside her pocket.

  The drive was made in silence while she wolfed down her burritos and a bottle of cool water. Bobby kept his gaze on the road, but she had less success ignoring him. Last night, moonlight and shadow had hidden much of his body, but today she could look her fill. And she didn’t care if he knew she was staring. She’d earned the right to make him uncomfortable.