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Mistress of the City

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Школа кожевенного мастерства: сумки, ремни своими руками
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  Table of Contents
  
  
  Title Page
  
  Copyright
  
  Chapter One
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Chapter Three
  
  You might also like:
  
  About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  Mistress of the City
  
  Smut-Shorties Series: Book 12
  
  
  
  
  
  MINA CARTER
  
  USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright 2014 Mina Carter
  
  Cover Art by Mina Carter
  
  Published by Blue Hedgehog Press: Jan 2015.
  
  
  
  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
  
  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
  
  
  
  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  
  Author's note: All sexually active characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  
  
  “But, Mom, do I have to go to the ball?”
  
  Archer Davis stopped mid-stride as his little brother’s voice filtered through the half-open bedroom door and into the corridor. Seth was sixteen and a total teenager. That he was conversing in full sentences was new, but the petulant tone wasn’t. On an average day, Seth could make even a grunt sound like a whine. Now though, he just sounded scared—very scared—which sent all of Archer’s protective instincts into overdrive. Without another thought, he barged through the door.
  
  “What ball?”
  
  His mom and brother jumped, turning to look at him. He bit back a shiver at the twin set of amber eyes. Werewolf eyes. It still freaked him the hell out to see them. His mom had married a wolf, his stepdad, when he was seven years old, and Seth had been born a Were. Call him speciesist, but he still preferred to see his mom’s eyes their original—human—brown.
  
  Ignoring it, he focused on his mom. Of the two, she was more likely to tell him what was going on. “Ball?” he prompted.
  
  “The Midwinter Choosing,” Seth answered, his whole manner flustered and he yanked at the suit he wore. It was a little too big for him, evidently borrowed from his father. Although they were the same height, thanks to Seth’s recent growth spurt, he had yet to fill out in the shoulders so the jacket hung loose on him.
  
  “Wait…what? The annual fuckfest for the mistress?” Although the rest of his family was Were, Archer wasn’t a wolf, but living in the pack house since he’d been discharged from the army had left him with a good idea of furry politics.
  
  “Archer!” his mother snapped, reaching out to smooth Seth’s jacket straight. “It’s not a…a—”
  
  “Fuckfest,” Seth grunted, grinning despite the fear that had leeched his skin. Like most immature teenagers, dirty words still made him snigger.
  
  “No, no! It’s an honor for an offering to be chosen,” she insisted, fussing over Seth again. “And as a pack, we have to send an offering or we’ll be in default. Seth’s the only unmated male we have. And he’s an adult.”
  
  Her cheeks turned scarlet as she tried to avoid mentioning sex, but the elephant crowded into the room anyway. The Midwinter Choosing was all about sex, and everyone knew it. It was when the mistress, the most powerful werewolf in the city and “overlord” of all the packs, chose a bedmate for the night. A young, handsome lycan to fuck while the moon was high.
  
  Archer snorted to himself, and the poor fuckers were grateful for the chance at her. He’d never met the mistress, but since werewolves gained power as they aged, she was no doubt some dried up old harridan who needed protocol to entice a guy into her bed.
  
  His mood soured as he looked at Seth, all tarted up like he was about to head to senior prom. It would be so easy to slip into that delusion, but it would be a lie, and Archer detested lies. His little brother was about to be served up like the sacrificial lamb, and as the reality set in, he looked as scared as fuck about it.
  
  “Have you forgotten Seth is only sixteen?” Archer asked, his voice deceptively calm. Folding his arms over his chest, he ignored the fact that his shirt pulled at the shoulders. He needed to go shopping, all his tops were too tight since he’d been stateside and hitting the weights hard. “He’s not an adult.”
  
  Their mother pursed her lips.
  
  “Maybe not for a human, but for a wolf, he’s been an adult for months. Ever since he mastered his part shift.” At that, she beamed with pride. Part-shifting was something Archer knew the furries prized. It meant Seth would be an alpha like his father.
  
  “Really.” Archer’s voice was flat and rang with the disapproval he didn’t attempt to hide. “Well, you have fun tonight,” he said and turned to leave the room.
  
  What was it to him if the kid’s parents threw him to the wolves? Or, in this case, wolf. One wolf. The Mistress of the City.
  
  Reena Leroy. The most powerful werewolf in the city, she ruled from her “court” over on Eastside. From stories Archer overheard, whispered when they thought he, the human, wasn’t listening, she was a cast iron bitch who’d killed her own father to attain her position.
  
  He stomped down the corridor to his own room and slammed the door behind him. Why did he care that Seth—still a child—would be shown off like a piece of meat in front of a woman no doubt old enough to be his grandmother? Archer had never been to court, so he had no idea what the woman looked like, but even he knew wolves gained power as they aged.
  
  How old would a female wolf more powerful than the rest have to be? Seth might have mastered his part-shift, but he was no match for a woman like that. She’d chew him up and spit him out. The whole idea of men…hell anyone…paraded about for one person to pick from for sexual services turned his stomach. It was disgusting, archaic and he wanted nothing to do with such a society. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that luxury.
  
  Archer stood in front of his open wardrobe, anger and worry vying for dominance in his gut. For the first time in his life, he wished he’d taken up his mother’s offer to turn him. He’d always refused because his military career depended on him remaining human. Wolves, while not banned from the services, were not exactly treated like equals…
  
  His gaze fell on his good suit and a slow smile crawled over his lips.
  
  But he wasn’t in the army anymore.
  
  He didn’t need to be human anymore.
  
  And today was a good day to put an uppity female wolf in her place.
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  Two hours later, Archer slid his car to a stop outside the court building. Cutting the engine, he levered himself out of the low vehicle and handed his keys to the valet. The guy, a wolf by the amber eyes, flicked a glance at him.
  
  “Pack?” he demanded, his expression a little suspicious.
  
  Archer gave him a scowl to look at. “Griffin. What of it?”
  
  The smaller man’s eyes widened, just a touch, before he bowed his head. “Well met, Alpha. Through the double doors and turn right, the Master of Ceremonies is waiting to welcome you.”
  
  Archer nodded, striding toward the building in front of him. That had been easier than he’d thought. In fact, he’d expected to fall at the first hurdle. Expected alarms to blare as soon as he set foot in court, warning all the little wolfies that they had—shock, horror—a human in their midst. Well, perhaps human wasn’t accurate. But the valet had barely looked at him after Archer growled. Being an asshole got him mistaken for an alpha wolf. Go figure.
  
  Surreptitiously he rubbed the tiny flesh colored bandage between his thumb and forefinger. He’d covered all his bases. He told his mom and the driver of the arranged limo that he’d make sure Seth got to court on time and despite his lycan heritage, Seth had been easy to sneak up on. When you lived with wolves, it was easy to figure out how to trick one into a part shift, then knock him out. He’d used Seth’s claw, puncturing the skin just enough to infect himself with the lycanthrope virus.
  
  After that, it was a walk in the park. Seth was bundled up nice and neat in his own closet back home, the locked door no barrier when he woke, and Archer had driven himself here without incident. He didn’t have to worry about his mom and her husband turning up. His stepfather was ailing, ill health meaning only his brother’s presence was expected at the choosing.
  
  Archer rolled his shoulders, settling his jacket more comfortably as he walked through the double doors. Court was not at all what he’d expected. The word conjured images of historical buildings and stately elegance, but the building was modern chrome and glass. He looked around and turned right. Good thing they weren’t all vampires or they’d be crispy critters come morning.
  
  More doors opened in front of him and a thin man looked up from his clipboard. “Pack?”
  
  Archer bit back his anger. Did no one ask people’s names around here, or were they all known by their pack monikers? What if there was more than one from each pack…did they assign each a number?
  
  “Griffin. Here as the offering.”
  
  The man just nodded and made a note. “Very well, follow me.”
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  She was bored out of her fucking mind.
  
  Reena Leroy, Mistress of the City, and the most powerful wolf in the room, sighed and drained her champagne glass in one shot. Motioning toward a waiter, she disposed of it and collected another. It wouldn’t make a difference how much she drank, she couldn’t get drunk, more was the pity. Getting plastered might make the evening bearable.
  
  Just.
  
  She still had to pick a man to fuck. Tradition going back centuries. She wished she could just cancel the damn thing, change the law, but the council of alpha’s had pitched a hissy fit when she’d so much as mentioned it.
  
  Ugh, she needed more champagne. Waaaaay more champagne. The waiter was still hovering, his expression bland as she exchanged her glass yet again and looked across the room from her place on the raised dais. It was filled with men. All kinds of men. Short, tall, skinny, and muscled. They were mostly young. The law required each pack to send a virile, young offering. Most had sent more than one, to increase their chances of getting a wolf into her bed, and hopefully get her pregnant. They did that, and convention dictated that maybe, just maybe, they got to be her consort.
  
  Yeah, right. So not happening.
  
  She looked at her glass, swirling the golden fluid. Shit. She wished her best friend Travis was here. For years, he’d covered her ass, pretending to be her pick for the evening even though they weren’t a couple. But now he was happily mated, and she refused to cut into his honeymoon.
  
  Suck it up, buttercup, she told herself, knocking back the rest of the champagne and rising at the same time. How hard could it be to pick a guy to fuck?
  
  One night. Mindless sex.
  
  She could do this.
  
  Her progress down the steps of the dais was careful but elegant. It was her armor, so she’d chosen her outfit for the evening with care. The halter-neck dress was fitted to the hips before flaring out into swathes of fabric around her ankles. Unlike the other women in the room, the few who had accompanied some of the older males rather than the offerings, not a sequin or bead sparkled on the black fabric, but when she turned, she heard the whispered gasps and muttered comments. Her lower back was exposed, the skin marked and puckered with scarring.
  
  She rarely revealed them, but she wasn’t ashamed of the marks on her skin. To her, they were her history and a visual reminder of the horror of a childhood with a violent father. When that father had claws…even wolves, especially young wolves, scarred. She set her face into a pleasant smile and circulated the room, weaving around the men.
  
  Although most were too well schooled to wince at the sight of her back, most knew who’d given her those scars and that they’d all stood back, no one doing anything while she’d suffered all those years ago. Everyone remembered that she’d killed the son of a bitch.
  
  Nineteen years old, and in her first challenge fight, she’d killed…no, slaughtered…the most evil werewolf to draw breath in the last few centuries. The fact he’d also been her father was something she’d rather people forgot. She was Mistress of the City now, and they’d had fifteen years of peace. Fifteen years where those who were different need not live in fear of their lives. People like her best friend, Travis, whose all-inclusive sexuality had put him right at the top of her father’s shit list.
  
  Her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass at the memory. Her father had been about to kill Travis that night. She’d seen red, her rage almost blinding her and galvanizing her wolf into action. Then there had been a lot more red. The scarlet of her father’s lifeblood as it poured from the mess of his ruined throat onto the granite floor of the old court.
  
  “I didn’t think the champagne was that bad, but it looks like that glass has personally offended you,” a deep, male voice cut in.
  
  Startled, she looked up. No one usually dared interrupt her reverie. Instantly she was caught in a dark-eyed gaze that sparkled with intelligence and humor. “A dance from a beautiful lady could make having to come to this damn cattle market worthwhile.”
  
  He was an offering then. Heat and feminine interest caught her blindside and she breathed in. The scent of man and wolf filled her lungs. He was an alpha, but with a control she’d never seen in one, not even from an alpha on the council. Perhaps third or fourth generation alpha? Everything she looked for in a man but thought she’d never find. He was older than most in the room, and she found she liked that. Liked it a lot.
  
  He smiled, tiny lines creasing the skin at the corners of his eyes and extended his hand. Temporarily struck dumb, she handed her glass to one of the hovering waiters and slipped her fingers into his. “Since you ask so nicely, a dance it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  
  
  She was a wolf, that much was certain, but he’d never seen one so alluring.
  
  Archer shivered as she slid her hand into his. Electricity sparked between them, drawing a gasp from her lips as she looked up. Deep within him, something dark and feral stirred and snarled. This little woman was his. The possessive thought took him by surprise. He covered by leading her onto the floor and pulling her into his embrace.
  
  She fit perfectly into his arms, as though she’d been made to be there. Heat roared through his veins, priming his body for action. Archer gritted his teeth, hoping the state of things south of his belt didn’t become apparent as they were dancing.
  
  “So…do you come here often?” he asked, allowing his amusement at the corny line to show in his eyes.
  
  To his surprise, she could dance, and well, moving smoothly with him to the soft strains of the music. He hadn’t expected that when he first spotted her across the room. Petite and curvy, she stood out amongst the tall, willowy lycan women like a rose in the middle of a field of wildflowers. Something beautiful and cultivated hidden within the wildness of the pack women. She had to be a bitten wolf because no amber ring showed in the darkness of her eyes: a deep, beguiling chocolate.
  
  “You could say that.”
  
  She smiled and his attention was hijacked by her lips. Small and pouty, they begged for a man’s kiss. His kiss. As soon as he could manage it.
  
  The mystery of her identity teased at him as they reached a corner of the dance floor and he turned her effortlessly. Never had he been so glad he’d taken the advice of a friend and gotten dance lessons. Not a usual hobby for a soldier, but there had been enough social functions to warrant the need to not look a dick on the dance floor.
  
  “I’ve never seen you before. Which pack are you with?” She tilted her head back to look up at him curiously and the tiny motion thrilled him. He’d never fallen prey to the “me man, you little woman” thing. He never particularly found delicate women attractive. A soldier through and through, most of his short-lived romances had been with fellow soldiers; women as tough as he was. Then it occurred to him that, as a wolf, his partner might look delicate, but she could bench press small cars if she felt the need.
  
  “Griffin.” His reply was short and sweet. He didn’t want to talk too much about his family in case she knew enough about the Griffin pack to know that Seth had an older brother who wasn’t a wolf.
  
  “You?”
  
  She shrugged, and looked away for a second.
  
  “Ahhh, a woman of mystery then.” Biting back his smile, he turned her again, missing a bunch of younger wolves, all of whom looked at him with undisguised hatred. His instincts went into overdrive, and he glared back at them. For a moment, it even felt like his lip was curling back from his teeth in the beginning of a snarl.
  
  “Ignore them,” she advised, gentle fingertips on his jaw bringing his head back around. Their gazes met, locked, and all he could think about was getting her out of there as quickly as possible.
  
  An open door beckoned and he turned her towards it, guiding her between the other couples on the dance floor. The skin between his shoulder blades itched and he was sure everyone turned to watch them as they passed. Fuck ‘em. Wolves or not, if they tried to stop him, they’d find out just how a lethal good old human could be.
  
  “Ignoring, don’t worry.” He didn’t miss the concern in her eyes and the way her hand curled around his arm. Protectively, or to stop him, he couldn’t work out which. His lips curved in a small smile. It was cute. As small as she was, he couldn’t imagine her standing up to anyone, despite her lycan blood. “How about we get out of here?”
  
  She looked behind her just as he swept her out the door into the darkness; her little gasp and the way she clung to him fed his male ego. The terrace was dimly lit, but he had excellent night vision and drew her aside to a darkened corner.
  
  “That’s better,” he breathed in relief, setting his back against the wall, her hand still in his. “Well now, isn’t this a nice spot to get to know each other?”
  
  He didn’t pull her to him or try to coerce her in any way. The male animal within wanted to. It snarled and raged against his control, demanded he use his strength to capture her and make her submit to him, loud and feral. He didn’t. Ignoring the impulses, he just waited. She would decide.
  
  He didn’t have to wait long. With a small sigh, she stepped closer, into his embrace. Relief crowded his chest. It looked for a moment like she’d walk away. Never, growled his instincts and he knew at that moment if she had walked, he’d go after her. She was his, and no young werewolf back in that room, however good looking, would take her from him. Ever.
  
  Shoving the disturbing, possessive thoughts to the back of his mind, he lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. It wasn’t out of place, he just wanted an excuse to touch her. Her lips softened at his touch. When she lifted her face to his, he took the invitation and leaned in.
  
  A soldier, with a passable face and a physique most men would envy, Archer was no innocent, but the first taste of her rocked his senses. Soft and sweet, her pliant lips clung to his, just a little. With a groan, he drove his hand into her hair, holding her at the nape and angling her head so he could deepen the kiss. She didn’t argue, opening for him at the first brush of his questing tongue against the closed seam of her lips as her small hands spread out over his shoulders.
  
  He thrust within, a first foray into the hot, sweetness of her mouth. She tasted decadent, sinful…a mixture of champagne and something else he couldn’t define. Whatever it was, it became a need, an obsession so great he never wanted to stop kissing her. He sought her tongue while his free hand slid to the back of her hips to pull her up flush against him. His cock, hard and aching, was caught between them and he relished her small gasp as she registered its presence.
  
  She broke away, looking up at him, heat in her eyes. “Seems like you’re pleased to see me…”
  
  Chuckling, he nipped at her lower lip. “Babe, you have no idea.”
  
  
  
  *
  
  
  
  Whatever Reena had expected from tonight, this hadn’t been it. Lust surged through her veins at the sharp nip of his blunt human teeth against the full flesh of her lower lip. Heat arrowed down to her clit, and the small bundle of nerves pulsed in need when he brushed his tongue over the tiny hurt.
  
  Fucking hell, where had he learned to do that? How did he know how to play her body and her reactions so perfectly? Why had she never seen him before? It didn’t matter. With a groan, she leaned against him and offered her lips for his kiss.
  
  He didn’t pass up the invitation. His tongue dipped between her lips again, found her tongue to stroke it in a hot, wet dance of pure delight. She growled in pleasure, the sound a soft rumble in the back of her throat and dug her nails into his shoulders to anchor herself. She needed the anchor. Needed to ground herself as everything about him threatened to sweep her away.
  
  His growl answered hers, the low sound hitting her deep inside, dampening her panties more. Wriggling, she pressed her hips forward and ground against his erect cock. Fuck, he was big. The long steel-like shaft sent a wave of awareness through her so complete that goose bumps rose on her skin and her nipples puckered under the layers of fabric covering them. Too much fabric. Her wolf snarled in frustration. It wanted naked. Now. Naked and pressed against the virile male it smelled so close to them. She hushed it. She couldn’t fight her own instincts and that of the beast too.
  
  Breaking away, he panted against her lips. “You are fucking gorgeous. How are you not marri-mated?”
  
  “Let’s just say I’ve avoided that trap so far.”
  
  She smiled, hands exploring the broad expanse of his shoulders and sliding around to test the muscles across his chest. Pleasantly solid. He had to work out, unlike most male wolves. They neglected their human form, relying instead on the strength of their inner beast when they needed. Not this one… This one seemed to take as much pride in himself as a man as he no doubt did as a wolf. She wondered what his beast looked like. Probably large, powerful across the shoulders, and as swaggeringly male as the man who stood in front of her.
  
  His grin at her answer was immediate and maybe a little bit sly. “All the better for me then.”
  
  “Oh?” She lifted her head at that, the light of challenge in her eyes. He thought he could take on the Mistress of the City, did he? But immediately as the thought hit, she knew he had no idea who she was. Sure, Griffin was a small pack but everybody knew the Mistress was not mated. And she liked that, liked that he didn’t know who she was. It meant she could be herself and not the caricature everyone expected. “You talk too much.”
  
  He brushed his lips over hers again, breaking away for a second to say, “Good point. I have far better uses for my lips.”
  
  She moaned as he set about proving that. His kiss deepened and became dominant. Less a kiss, more a statement of intent. A claiming as he thrust his tongue past her lips to demand her response. She gave it, but challenged him at every turn. Every stroke. Every tangle…she made him work for each one.
  
  He growled, frustration and lust mingled, and turned them. Her back hit the wall and a gasp broke from her lips when his hand covered her breast, large and warm. He nipped her lower lip again, before moving along her jaw to leave a trail of hot, wet kisses. A strong hand slid over the side of her throat, his thumb tilting her chin up to allow his lips better access.
  
  A whimper broke free as his teeth grazed the soft flesh. To bear her throat was a sign of submission, unheard of for the Mistress of the City. But her wolf was in accord with her, the creature all but rolling over and showing its belly to the dominant male. It was good he didn’t know who she was. There was no way he’d have been this way with her if he did. Too many people were scared of her anger, afraid of her reaction, to ever be this way with her, even if she’d picked them tonight to share her bed.
  
  And she found she wanted it… Wanted the domineering side of his character. Needed it. Needed for one night to yield control and just be a woman. Not the mistress. Just a woman who needed a man’s touch. A man’s control.
  
  He reached her collarbone, tongue flicking over the tiny hollow at the base of her throat and she was lost. Her nails caught in the back of his shirt, slicing the fabric and catching his skin. The scent of blood blossomed on the air and they both gasped.
  
  “Fuck,” he rasped, fingertips playing with the edge of her neckline. “It feels good.”
  
  She had to agree. Her own hands not idle, she sought the buttons at the front of the shirt. The need to touch him, to feel the hot, silky skin and hard muscle of his chest and abdomen, overrode all else. The buttons gave, torn from the shirt in some cases. She sighed in relief as she slid her hands beneath the fabric, a sound that became a shiver when his fingertips hooked beneath her bodice.
  
  “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered against the sensitive skin of her cleavage.
  
  Strong fingers pulled the fabric of her halter dress and bra aside. The cooler air hit her exposed breast and the nipple puckered in a cry for attention. He didn’t ignore it. Hot breath washed over her a second before he flicked his tongue out, rasping against her in a warm, wet lick. Her pussy clenched, desire driving her hard. She couldn’t think past the need to touch him, and have him touch her.
  
  His lick was followed by another, large hand cupping her, molding and caressing her breast as he held it in place for his lips. Then he closed his lips around her and drew the beaded nub into the warmth of his mouth to suck. Arching her back, a sibilant sigh escaped her lips at the pleasure.
  
  Unable to think, just following instinct and need, she tugged at his belt and got it undone. They were hidden here in the darkness, and her guards would have seen them come out here. No one would disturb them.
  
  She’d made her choice for the evening.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  
  
  She was… Amazing. Gorgeous. So fucking sexy it hurt.
  
  Archer growled in the back of his throat as her fingertips dipped below his waistband to stroke the tender skin across his stomach. Sucking in a breath, he paused in his attentions and rest his forehead against the delicate curve of her shoulder. His cock jerked. He tried to recite the seven times table in his head. Backward. Anything to retain control and not fall on her like some ravaging animal.
  
  A gentle finger beneath his chin lifted his face to hers and she kissed him. No, not a kiss. Instead, she made love to him with soft lips and gentle nips. Remaining passive under her touch, his hand smoothed over the sensuous curves of her body. She crowded closer. Hands either side of his jaw, she flicked a quick lick against his upper lip and his control slipped.
  
  With another rumble, a feral sound from the center of his chest he’d never heard himself make, he caught her to him and pulled her away from the wall. One hand drove into the hair at the nape of her neck as the other slid down her back. His fingertips moved over rough skin and he pulled away to frown. He’d felt skin like that before, on his own body. The kind of marks left by violence. Anger washed over him, rage so complete, it stole his breath and the need rose to hunt down and slaughter whoever hurt her.
  
  “Who did this?” he demanded, voice harsh in the darkness, as his fingers traced the marks over her lower back. “Tell me, and he’s a dead man.”
  
  She shook her head and reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. “Doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”
  
  “It matters,” he insisted, hand tightening in the back of her hair to stop her kissing and distracting him again. “Someone hurt you...and I’ll make them pay.”
  
  The moon chose that moment to peek through the clouds and touch her face with silver light. Her eyes were dark, sultry with desire, and her lips a bee stung pout swollen from his kisses. She might have been a wolf, but right at the moment he didn’t care. At the moment, she was a woman, and he a man.
  
  “They already paid. I promise.” Her voice was soft. “Let it go, just kiss me. Kiss me again so I can forget.”
  
  How could he resist a plea like that? His grip gentling, he bent his head and claimed her lips again. If their kisses had been hot before, it didn’t compare to the inferno they became now. As soon as their mouths met and mated, heat surge between them. His body tightened, every muscle, every cell alive with the need to take her and make her his. She was so small, he easily crowded her back against the wall again. Their hands were everywhere. Stroking. Exploring. Caressing.
  
  Snapping his fly open, she slid her small hand within his pants and wrapped her fingers around his cock. At her first touch, he lost the ability to think, his brain short circuited. Then she stroked. He broke away to swear. A muffled curse before his mouth crashed down on hers again.
  
  He had to touch her. Had to know everything about her.
  
  His movements almost frantic, he reached down and pulled her skirt higher. A sigh of relief escaped him as he slid his hand beneath the voluminous material and found the soft satin skin of her thigh. She nipped his lip, again challenging him for dominance of the kiss, and he growled. Fuck, what was with the animal noises?
  
  She didn’t seem to mind. The whimper in the back of her throat as he hooked his fingers behind her knee and pulled her leg up over his hip urged him on. Her strokes on his cock didn’t falter, and a familiar buzzing raced down his spine.
  
  “Too much,” he broke away to whisper, stopping her hand by the simple measure of pressing closer and trapping it between their bodies. “Too close. And I want to be inside you.”
  
  She nodded, biting her lip and the sight of her straight white teeth mangling the plump lower curve did it for him. Lust roared in his ears, his heart thumping in his chest as his pulse pounded in his cock. He eased himself away, just a little, to free her hand at the same moment he swept his hand up her inner thigh.
  
  Questing fingers found the edge of her panties and she gasped, her head falling back to rest against the wall. He watched her, gaze intent on every flicker of expression, as he slid his fingers beneath the damp satin, found her pussy lips and stroked between them. Then it was his turn to gasp, a sound echoed by the softer, more feminine version she gave. She was hot, wet with her arousal, and ready for him. But that didn’t mean he was stopping now, not before she was boneless with pleasure.
  
  He said nothing, kept his gaze on hers as his fingertips slid higher to seek her clit. The tiny knob was easy to find and he slicked her own juices over it. Rubbed and circled, feathered his touch over and around it. She gasped and shuddered beneath his touch, her lips parting and her eyes half closed.
  
  He teased and tormented, using the little clues she gave him to play her body. Like the parting of her lips and the soft little mewling sound she gave when he rubbed just so. Or the widening of her eyes as he slid lower to tease the entrance to her body. Bringing his thumb into play, he rocked it against her clit and slid a finger into the tight embrace of her pussy.
  
  It was almost too much for him…the feel of her clamped around him, tight muscles and silken softness. He could already feel it around his cock and every instinct he had demanded him to step back, free himself, and bury his cock balls deep in her heat.
  
  “So close…” She whimpered, hips rocking as she rode his hand and his eyes snapped open. Triumph surged, feral male pride and possessiveness tightening every line of his body as he bent all his senses, everything he had to ensure her pleasure.
  
  “That’s it, babe,” he whispered, bending his head to press soft kisses its line of her throat. “Come all over my hand. Then I get to fuck you.”
  
  
  
  *
  
  
  
  His words, issued in a low rough-cut voice, reached deep inside and flicked a switch. Crying out, she clutched at his shoulders as pleasure washed over her. Heat consumed her. Raced through her veins and reached into the pit of her soul to touch something there. The feeling it released wound itself around her pleasure, a thread of emotion that was elusive, slipping away from her when she tried to study it. It didn’t matter, so she let it go in favor of riding the waves that coursed through her body.
  
  Holding her close, his gentle embrace was at odds with the erotic nature of his hand between her legs. His fingers stroked her. Each soft touch gentled her as she came down from the wild ride of her climax. She could feel the need caged in his body and a small devil sat on her shoulder, wanting her to shatter it.
  
  She lifted her chin, seeking his lips. The kiss was a conflagration of dark desire. She moved closer, pulling him into her embrace, and slid her tongue against his in a wild ride. Her hand drove into the hair at the nape of his neck, and she smoothed the other down the small of his back, yanking him against her. His cock pulsed between them. When he broke away, they were both panting.
  
  “I recall some promises about fucking being made,” she whispered between kisses, and a small smile played over her lips when he growled in response.
  
  “As the lady wishes.” He pulled back, hands pulling at her skirts to yank them up. She bit her lip again as he lifted her easily, her back against the wall, to settle between her thighs. The head of his cock pressed against the entrance to her pussy.
  
  She felt her eyes widen, thrill running through her. He was as big as she’d thought, the thick shaft pressing against, and then slipping inside her. Stretching her as he pushed in one long, slow thrust. As before, he didn’t take his eyes from hers. The scrutiny, the intensity, ramped the heat higher and higher. She’d never had a man look at her as deeply as he took her, as though searching for something in her eyes and she in his.
  
  His face tightened the deeper he went. She caught her breath, pussy stretched tight around him. He was so big, filling her like she’d never been filled before. She clenched. He gasped and a small muscle in his jaw jumped as his nostrils flared.
  
  “Hold still,” he rasped, fighting for control. “Or this will be the shortest screw you ever had. You’re so tight.” Pausing, his body was rigid as his eyes sought hers in concern. “Please tell me you’ve done this before?”
  
  “What? Oh…” She smiled, her heart touched by his worry for her possible virgin state. “Hell yeah, I have. Have you? I wouldn’t want to think I’m corrupting some poor innocent young lycan.”
  
  His teeth flashed in a broad grin and with a surge of his hips filled her to the hilt. “Babe, believe me, there is no chance of that happening.”
  
  “Good,” she murmured, distracted by the feeling of him completely in her. “Now move, before I scream.”
  
  “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the screaming part soon.”
  
  He pulled back to thrust in again with a quick movement that sent stars flaring behind her eyes. Planting his hand on the wall beside her head, he did it again, then again until he built up a quick, hard pace that threatened to have her begging for more. The sensation as he filled her was incredible. Utterly incredible. She wasn’t an innocent by any stretch of the imagination, but there was just something about him, something about the way he moved…touched her...that pressed buttons she didn’t know she had.
  
  She looked up in confusion, hands on his shoulders to brace herself as he powered into her. “H-how…”
  
  “How what, babe?” he grunted, shifting position and sliding his hand around the back of her hips to hold her in place. Now each time he thrust into her, he added a roll and pressed her clit to trap it between their bodies. She gasped as it throbbed, a new deep, need arching through her body as though she hadn’t come in months. “How did I know what you need? How you like to be touched?”
  
  She nodded, dropping her head back with a sigh of pleasure as he kissed along her neck.
  
  “That’s easy,” he said between kisses and each brush of his lips marked another thrust. “You’re a woman who needs to be loved…To be worshiped and adored by touch and caress.”
  
  His words stole the last of her ability to think. She closed her eyes, holding on and moving with him. Her body tightened around his, and he upped the pace with a grunt.
  
  “Fuck, you’re hot,” he groaned, shifting again to pull her from the wall, supporting her weight in the cage of his arms as he impaled her on his cock. His strength was impressive, even for a wolf, and she gave herself over to him.
  
  “That’s it,” he crooned, words soft puffs against the delicate skin of her throat. “Tighten that sweet little cunt around my cock. Stroke me, milk me… Make me come with your tight body.”
  
  The filthy words, spoken so soon after the eloquent, sensual ones broke the spell holding her release. She threw her head back, a scream on her lips she came hard and fast. Shattering apart, her body became a vice around his cock as her release tumbled her into ecstasy.
  
  He growled, pushed forward to brace her against the wall. His thrusts became harder, faster…feral in their intensity. She reveled in it, and dug her fingernails into his shoulders to drive him on. Used his need to feed her own release as he drove into her time and time again. Then, he thrust one final time and his body stiffened, cock buried deep inside her and he swore as he came.
  
  Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she threaded her fingers through his hair. Gentling him as his cock jerked and pulsed deep within her, bathing her womb in his white-hot seed. Long pulses, short jerks, as he rested his head against her shoulder and tried to catch his breath.
  
  “Fuck me,” he said, lifting up to look into her eyes. A small smile played on his lips. “After that, perhaps introductions are in order. I’m Archer.”
  
  He lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, waiting for her answer. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to give a false name and slip away into the darkness. But she didn’t want them parting on false pretenses. Not after what they’d shared.
  
  “Reena.” She felt more than saw his surprise: a slight gasp, and the widening of his eyes. “I’m—”
  
  “I just fucked the Mistress of the City.” His voice was flat, his eyes assessing. Calculating, but not in a bad way.
  
  “Yeah.” She reached up to tease along his lower lip. “And I’m kind of hoping you fancy doing it again… What do you say, handsome?”
  
  His grin was swift and immediate. “Thought you’d never ask.”
  
  
  
  The End
  
  
  
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  Smut Shorties: A great on-the-go short to satisfy your craving for smut!
  
  
  
  
  
  #1: Master of the City: (BBW Werewolf Erotica) by Mina Carter
  
  #2: Don't Drink and Hex (BBW Werewolf Erotica) by Milly Taiden
  
  #3: Lords of the Hill: (BBW Werewolf Erotica) by Mina Carter
  
  #4: Hex Gone Wild (BBW Werewolf Erotica) by Milly Taiden
  
  #5: The Master's Woman: (BBW Werewolf Erotica) by Mina Carter
  
  #6: The Captain of the Guard (Alpha Werewolf Erotica) by Mina Carter
  
  #7: Hex and Kisses (BBW Werewolf Erotica) by Milly Taiden
  
  #8: Mated to the Master: (BBW Werewolf Erotica) by Mina Carter
  
  #9: Submitting to the Captain (Alpha Werewolf Erotica) by Mina Carter
  
  #10: The Captain’s Challenge (Alpha Werewolf Erotica) by Mina Carter
  
  #11: The Master's Baby (BBW Werewolf Erotica) by Mina Carter
  
  
  
  
  
  Are you ready for the Revenants?
  
  
  
  #1: Sweeter Than Honey
  
  #2: Make Love, Not War (coming soon)
  
  
  
  
  
  About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  Mina Carter is a USA Today bestselling, multi-genre author. She lives in the UK with her husband, daughter and a bossy cat.
  
  
  
  Connect with Mina online at:
  
  http://mina-carter.com
  
  https://www.facebook.com/minacarterauthor
  
  http://twitter.com/minacarter
  
  http://www.pinterest.com/minacarter77
  
  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2920063.Mina_Carter
  
  
  
  
  
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