"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, smiling but not bothering to deny it. "And you think you'll be a better distraction than dancing in this sweaty club full of sexy, pheromone pumped shifters?"
His ice-blue eyes were full of confidence as he took a sip of his own drink then licked his lips slowly. "I know I am."
My breath caught in my throat at the heavy sexual innuendo carried by his tone, and I had to bite the inside of my lip to prevent myself from doing something embarrassing, like tearing that perfect tie off his neck then begging to be tied up with it …
"Come on," he said, placing his empty martini glass back on the bar top and holding out a hand in invitation to me. "I have an apartment nearby."
I sucked in a breath and eyed his extended hand. For any normal kitsune girl, or human girl for that matter, it would be a supremely stupid move to accept a stranger’s offer to visit his apartment. Especially in the middle of the night after both alcohol and pot … but normal didn't even come close to what I was.
No, I was more than capable of taking care of myself should this guy turn out to be a psychopathic axe murderer. Hell, if anyone was the murderer here, it was me. So it was only a second before I placed my own small hand, with its sharp red nails, into his palm.
A feral looking smile curved over his face as his fingers closed around mine. "Excellent choice, Chris."
"What are we waiting for, Sir?" I challenged him, and his eyes lit with amusement.
"Nothing at all," he murmured, running his tongue across his lower lip and turning to the exit with my hand still held firmly in his. "It's only a couple of blocks from here, are you okay to walk?" He eyed my deadly high, sequined heels and I shrugged.
"Fine by me," I replied as we stepped out into the cool night air. Bex hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said we would likely see snow again soon. I could almost taste it in the wind, it was so close. The crisp air sent a shiver through my tails and I bit back a moan. I was so damn overdue for this one-night stand, it wasn't even funny. It had been way, way too long.
"Cold?" Sir asked, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it without letting go of my hand. For a brief moment, I was mesmerized by the movement of his lips, picturing them wrapped around one of my nipples instead.
"Not really." I shook my head, tearing my eyes away from his lips and watching where I was putting my feet instead. I was dynamite in heels, but even the most experienced stiletto wearer could fall afoul of a big city’s shitty sidewalks. "Must be convenient living so close to a shifter club." Okay, so I sucked at small talk. I gave a killer blow job though, so hopefully my social awkwardness would be forgotten once we got naked.
"Yes, you could say that," Sir commented with an odd tone, "I'm mostly there for business though."
"Really? What sort of business are you in?" As soon as the question passed my lips I was kicking myself. Rule one of being an assassin: don't talk about people’s work! Inevitably they'd end up asking about mine, and then I would have to make up a plausible lie.
Sighing internally, I blamed the alcohol. Sir didn't respond immediately, though, so perhaps he wasn't in the mood for chitchat?
"Experimental research," he finally muttered, his lips tight in a way that said he wasn't planning on elaborating, which was just fine with me. Unfortunately, my mouth had other ideas.
"In a club? What sort of experiment were you running? How easily you could pick up a woman to take home?" I intended it to come out as a joke, but I found my voice had dropped to a low, husky purr, my body unconsciously leaning in toward Sir’s suited arm.
Instead of responding to my flirtatious tone, the sexy, mystery shifter grabbed me by the arm with a grip like steel and tugged me into a dark alleyway that we’d been passing. If I hadn’t wanted to go with him, I could’ve pulled away.
But I did.
I wanted it so bad, needed it really, all this heady anonymity he was offering.
"Sir," I started, but my very practical inquiry about protection was cut short as he slammed me against the dirty concrete wall. My assassin training and reflexes kicked into high gear, and the only thing that saved this guy from a snapped neck was the fact that his lips crushed into mine, drowning me in a rush of heat. For a man with such a cold smile, he had a hot goddamn mouth.
"I’m quite done with the shitty small talk, aren’t you?" he growled, releasing my lips for a quick second before diving back in. As much as I hated men who towered over me, this guy really did ... and a secret little primal place in me was turned-on as fuck about it.
Come to think of it, I generally hated men who shushed women as well, but in this case, he was right. I was done with the shitty small talk, and this was a much more preferable activity than dodging awkward social niceties.
My lips parted beneath his and our tongues met as I let Ziff's Armani bag slip down my arm to rest on the ground. He sure as hell didn't need to be getting jostled around while I made out with this stranger in an alley.
Sir's hands circled my waist, his warm thumbs brushing the exposed skin of my midsection before creeping the fabric of my halter top up a bit. As his thumbs brushed the undersides of my breasts, I shuddered and let out a little moan.
Yeah, it really had been way too long since I'd seen any attention in the romance department; we'd barely passed the PG-13 level of making out and I was already on the brink of a damn orgasm. Fuck only knew what I would do when he got into my pants.
"You like that, little fox?" the coldly beautiful man purred into my ear, his teeth nipping at my lobe just as his fingers found my rock-hard nipples, and I moaned. It was all I could do not to let my knees turn to jelly.
Words were totally beyond me, so I responded by gripping his short blond hair and dragging his face back to mine for another scorching kiss. He was an unbelievable kisser, and I was pretty sure that wasn't just my faded sexual memory speaking. Every touch, every caress of his lips, his tongue, they sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through my whole body until it felt like I was embracing a live wire or something.
This guy, Sir, was a drug I was fast becoming addicted to and I just couldn't get enough of him. My palms spread across his chest, then found his tie and gripped it tight, pulling him close and taking our kiss deeper.
For his part, he left one hand buried up my shirt, tweaking and rolling my sensitive nipple between his fingers and making me thank the Fox Father that my breasts were small enough to have safely gone bra-free tonight. His other hand skirted my waist, then found the base of my tails. Usually I wore pants with a slit to accommodate them, but these babies rode so low on my hips that my tails just hang over the top. Of course, they pushed the waistband of the pants down just enough to flash a bit of crack, but clubs were dark, sweaty, and sexy. Who would notice?
When Sir’s fingers brushed the silky white fur and then teased the tender bit of flesh beneath them, I almost came. No joke. My borrowed leather pants were soaked.
"Holy fucking foxfire," I groaned, releasing him enough that I could lean my head back on the wall and force some strength into my legs.
"Should I stop?" he asked politely, but with an edge of amusement as his strong fingers stroked down the length of one of my tails. The sensation was toe-curling and unbelievably erotic. I could barely formulate words, so I just whimpered and shook my head. "Good," Sir breathed, kissing down the line of my neck and nipping me with his teeth. "I've never fucked a kitsune before, and it’s been a while since I’ve been with a … mature woman, such as yourself. This is quite the turn-on for me."