The drumbeats faded away. The three people wrapped arms around each other then sank slowly into the floor. The blue lights turned on, chasing away the darkness.
Grant looked at her, smiling wickedly as he licked her essence off his finger. “You taste better than anything I’ve eaten tonight.”
Roxie bared her teeth. “Just wait until I’ve had a taste of you.”
Grant’s cock jumped at the promise in her words. He couldn’t wait to have her.
Monique arrived with the same tuxedoed waiter who cleared away the cheese plate. From a tray balanced on her hip, Monique placed plates of tiramisu before them. Then she set out two tiny cups of espresso. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“Oh, yes,” said Roxie.
“And you, monsieur?”
“The best show ever.”
6
ROXIE FOLLOWED GRANT into his bedroom in the hotel suite. Jack had made himself scarce so that Roxie and Grant could bond.
Soon. Very soon. Roxie would be their mate—and they would be connected in heart, mind, soul, and body. Roxie couldn’t believe how fortunate she was to be the recipient of all that affection and adoration. It was as though life, after screwing her by putting her into the most barbaric shifter community, was trying to make up for all the physical and psychological loss she’d suffered. Here, life seemed to say, mate with two gorgeous men who will protect and adore you for the rest of your days. Sorry about the whole Blood Pack thing.
She wasn’t going to reject that gift. She was going to take it and hold on it and cherish it. Forever.
But now, she had a werewolf to seduce.
Roxie settled Grant onto the bed. He sat like an obedient puppy, which was cute—as well as deceptive. She had no doubt Grant would leap at the chance to master her. To take her. Tame her. And she wanted him to try.
Roxie toed off her shoes then wiggled out of her dress. She heard his sharp intake of breath when he caught a glimpse of her red lace thong and its matching lace bra. She stuck her feet back into the heels, offered him a you’re-in-so-much-trouble smile, and then dug into her purse and pulled out her iPod. She scrolled through her music until she found the song she wanted.
As the opening to Imagine Dragon’s “Radioactive” rumbled through the room, Rhiannon took her position, arms up and gaze on Grant. She spun around, sliding her hands down her sides then over her ass.
She bent over.
“Sweet Wolf Gods on Mercury.”
Grant’s strained voice filtered through the hard beat of the music. She grinned. She loved to dance. To show off. She did Yoga every day and had even taken a few “stripper aerobics” classes. Of course, being a healthy “big” girl didn’t mean much in a world filled with skinny humans. Luckily, she was a werewolf, and werewolves didn’t give a damn about human ideas of beauty and sexiness.
Grant now had a prime view of her buttocks. The thong denied him a complete view of her femininity, but the temptation was there, covered by thin red lace.
Rolling back up, she wiggled around in a tight circle once, twice, and then stopped, giving him a side view. She drew her hands slowly up her stomach, across her breasts, and then down again to her hips. She turned her ass toward him.
Once again, she bent over.
Placing her palms flat on the floor, she braced her arms then brought up her legs. She drifted into a backbend then collapsed to the floor and rolled to her side.
Now on her stomach, she brought her head and feet up until they nearly met. Then she pressed down again, and pushed up so that her body formed a triangle.
She popped up to her feet and undulated toward him. She was holding his attention, making him look, but not touch. Yeah, she was making him want her badly while keeping herself just out of reach.
The song was nearing its end, so she let her fingers drift down between her breasts. She unsnapped the bra’s front clip and cupped her breasts, denying him the pleasure of seeing the material fall away.
She turned her back to him, dancing, and took off the bra, slinging it to the floor. As the song’s last notes rang out, Roxie faced Grant. Her hands glided from her breasts, down her stomach, and over her hips. She hooked her thumbs in the red panties, drew them down her legs, and then kicked them off.
For a long moment, Grant just stared at her. She loved how he looked at her, as if she were the last chocolate bar in the candy store. Her heart pounded frenetically.
“Well,” she prompted.
Grant answered her question by taking her hand and pulled her onto the bed. His lips captured hers, his tongue slipping inside her mouth, ratcheting up to the heat. She melted into his arms and deepened their contact. He tasted sweet, faintly like the tiramisu they ate after dinner. On his skin, she could smell the light scent of soap and the musky scent of sex.
Desire and need streaked through her, pooling wet and hot between her thighs. Reaching between them, she stroked his cock through his pants.
He groaned.