Manly. Yup. Real stud material.
John stopped at the door and blocked all escape, those beautiful blues of his downright vicious as he glared over her shoulder at the human.
God, she wanted to fuck him, she thought.
With a casual wave, she provided introductions. “This is my husband, John. John, this was just leaving. Do you want to escort it out, honey?”
Before the faker could respond, John bared his fangs and let out a hiss. It was the only sound he could make besides a whistle, but it was better than words—
“Oh, man,” Xhex muttered as she stepped aside sharply.
The wannabe had just pissed himself.
John was more than happy to take out the garbage. Dumb-ass human, looking at his female like that? The bastard was lucky John was so sexed up. Otherwise he’d have taken the time to break a leg or an arm just to make a point.
Clamping a hold on the nape of the guy’s neck, he frog-marched the leering son of a bitch over to the rear exit, kicked open the door, and dragged him into the back parking lot.
Some version of, “Oh, God, please don’t hurt me,” was coming out of that mouth, and with good goddamn reason. Only the thinnest veil of common sense was keeping John from murder.
As there was no way to command the guy to look at him, John spun the POS around, grabbed him by the shoulders, and lifted him up until his cute patent leather black shoes hung in the breeze.
Meeting eyes that had some kind of ridiculous fake red color over them, John willed the poser into a trance, and wiped clean the memories of those fangs that had been flashed. Then… well, it was tempting to implant a little ditty about how vampires really did exist and were coming after him.
Good dose of induced paranoia would put a quick end to this charade the fucker was living.
Then again, it wasn’t worth the effort. Especially not when he could be inside his female right now.
With a final shake, he let the guy go, sending him off at a dead run. Fucker was scrawny; exercise would do him good.
As John turned back to the club, he saw Xhex’s Ducati parked flush against the building under a security light, and damn… He imagined her straddling all that power, lying low on the engine, gunning the bike around a dead man’s curve.…
He stalked over to the door and found it open, with her standing in it.
“I thought you were going to tear his throat out,” she drawled.
She was totally aroused.
As John came up to her, he didn’t stop until her breasts were against his chest, and she didn’t budge in the slightest—which naturally juiced him even more. God, she was hot to begin with, but this self-imposed separation they were rocking was making him even more desperate to be with her.
“You want to come in my office,” she said on a growl. “Or do it out here?”
When he just nodded like the dumb handle he was, she laughed. “How about inside so we don’t scare the children.”
Yeah, for most humans, sex didn’t involve drawing blood.
As she led the way, he watched her hips sway and wondered if in fact it was anatomically possible for a person’s tongue to drag on the floor.
The instant they were locked in together, he was all over her, kissing her hard as his hands made fast work of shoving up her shirt. As her fingers speared into his hair, he bent down and sent up a prayer of thanks that she never bothered with a bra.
With her nipple in his sucking mouth and one hand between her legs from the back, he laid her out on top of the paperwork on her desk. Next move was to peel off her leathers, and then he was sprung and penetrating her.
Fast, furious fucking, the kind that rearranged furniture and probably called attention to itself, was always the opening gambit. Second time was slower. Third time was that sensuous crap that got shot with a blurry lens in movies.
It was your typical way of handling a banquet: gorge to take the edge off; concentrate on favorites; finish off with a delicate aperitif—
They came at the same time, he bending over her, she wrapping her long legs up around his hips, both of them holding on as tight as they could.
In the midst of the jerking releases, he happened to lift his head and look up. Across the way, there was a file cabinet, and an extra chair… and for some reason, he noticed for the first time that the wall was made of concrete blocks and painted black.
Same stuff that he’d stared at for the last couple months. And none of it had registered.
Now, though, the fact that it was not her home or his hit him hard.
She hadn’t invited him back to her place on the river since they’d had that first all-out session after their separation.
She hadn’t come to the mansion, either.
Closing his eyes, he tried to reconnect with what his body was still up to, but all he got were vague sensations of pulsing below his belt. Popping his lids, he wanted to look at her face, but she had arched back and all he could see was the point of her chin. And some time cards. For her bouncers.
Who could be right outside the door, listening to them.
Shit… this was seedy.
He was having an illicit affair… with his own mate.
In the beginning, it had been so exciting, like they were dating in a way they hadn’t done when they’d first gotten together. And he’d assumed it would always be that fun.
Except there had been shadows all along, hadn’t there.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he realized he would so rather do this in a bed. Their mated bed. And it wasn’t because he was old-fashioned; he missed her sleeping beside him.
“What is it, John?”
He cracked his lids. He should have known she’d have a bead on where he was at—
He really didn’t want to talk about it, though. They had too little time together.
He kissed her deep and long, figuring that was the best kind of distraction for both of them—and it worked. As her tongue met his, he began moving inside of her again, the long strokes taking him out to the brink, then easing him in all the way. The rhythm was slow but inexorable, and he, too, got swept away to a place where his head quieted down.
The release was a gently cresting wave this time, and he rode it out with a kind of desperation.
When it had passed, as all orgasms did, he became acutely aware of the distant, muffled pounding of music, and the clipping of heels out in the hall, and the far-off ringing of a cell phone.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
As he disengaged their bodies, he noticed that they were both mostly dressed. When was the last time they’d been fully naked?
Jesus… it had been during that period of bliss after their mating. Which seemed like a distant memory. Maybe about another couple.
“Did everything go okay with Wrath tonight?” she asked as she pulled up her pants. “Is that what it is?”
His brain struggled to focus, but fortunately, his hands were working just fine, and not only to get his button fly done up.
“Mmm.” She never had much to say about things involving the Brotherhood. Then again, given where they stood about her fighting, he was surprised she brought his work up at all.
She picked up something that she’d been lying on, a little baggie. “We have a new drug dealer in town.”
