Mastering the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 3 Page 10

  She shivered.

  He froze. “Does it hurt?” Already?

  She turned her head to the side. “You haven’t done anything yet.”

  Not true. He kept playing the Bieb’s tune “Baby” in his head, hoping it would deflate his hard-on a little. Any relief was welcomed so he wouldn’t go at Zoe like an animal. “Tell me if it does.”

  “I—”

  She stopped at Taro turning her face toward him. He stroked her cheek as he eased his thick rod into her mouth. Zoe sighed contentedly, all of her focus on Taro now.

  Screw that. Anatol slipped his hand to Zoe’s clit and stroked. She let out a moan of pleasure despite Taro’s cock shoved halfway down her throat. Encouraged, Anatol probed her tightest opening with his crown, easing it inside her a little at a time, pausing frequently to gauge her response.

  Zoe arched her back, which lifted her ass, an eager welcome if ever there was one.

  On a rough sigh, Anatol continued, at last burrowing all of his crown inside her passage. His body shuddered at her tightness and heat. A growl of savage craving rose to his throat. Ruthlessly, he suppressed it, breathed hard, and ran his hands up her back, delighted at the sight of his black skin against her pale flesh.

  Despite the noise in here, Anatol heard her pleading whimper that sounded as though she wanted more. He tunneled the full length of his rod deep within her and suddenly craved a different kind of closeness. Sliding his hands down her arms, Anatol stopped at her fingers, lacing his through hers.

  Zoe squeezed hard and held tight. Precisely the response Anatol wanted. When he pressed his cheek to her shoulder, she gripped his fingers tightly again, as though she liked how near he was.

  Anatol surely wasn’t complaining.

  As they held on to each other, he eased toward Zoe, driving his cock more deeply into her anus. She accepted his invasion readily, her body softening beneath his, a throaty purr proving he’d pleased her.

  When their bodies finally touched with him fully inside, Anatol let out a satisfied grunt.

  Stefin awakened at the noise and frowned. “You’re still not through? Hurry it up.”

  Anatol ignored him. Nothing in Hell or Heaven could make him rush this. He blew a tress from Zoe’s neck and kissed her there. She tightened her anus around his cock. The damn thing practically leaped in delight. Suckling hard, he gave her a hickey to mark this moment, then had to get down to business. His body simply couldn’t take much more delay.

  Once Anatol released her hands and straightened, he gripped her hips so she couldn’t get away. Not that he thought she’d try, given how she kept pushing into him.

  Ah, chéri.

  At a measured pace, he pumped, gliding his cock in and out of her passage, the friction between their bodies so great, his hair felt as though it were standing on end.

  Puffing hard, he thrust faster, finally remembering Zoe’s needs. His first strokes on her clit were gentle before he got a little rougher, alternating between the two until a new sheen of perspiration coated her shoulders and she had trouble keeping still. She pushed her ass into him, embracing each of his pumps and squirming every time he brushed his fingers over her nub. At last, she came, gasping and then howling around Taro’s cock still in her mouth.

  Anatol had a little more to give, needing to outdo Taro and Stefin, at least in Zoe’s mind. He rode her a few minutes longer, jaw clenched at the breathtaking sensations from her tightness and heat. He finally surrendered, lifting his chin to the ceiling. His raucous howl cut through the other noise before it was lost beneath the patrons’ rowdy shouts and the wailing of the band.

  The room dipped and swayed. Voices drifted close and then faded before Anatol could catch the words. Everything seemed surreal suddenly, precisely what he craved, to be lost in the best magic of all, being deep inside a woman he desired.

  As the last of his orgasm drained away, he lowered himself to Zoe’s back and held her as close as he could.

  After Stefin and Taro had her again, all three guys decided they wanted to eat food next rather than her. That would come later.

  Ravenous, Zoe couldn’t decide what to choose. The extensive menu covered everything on Earth and in Hell with all of it tempting her. Since being damned, she hadn’t had much of an appetite—having to force food down her throat. Except for chocolate.

  Now, she wanted anything edible.

  Tonight had been more than Zoe had ever dreamed possible, and almost exactly what she wanted. The guys craving, using, pleasuring her. Gifting her with orgasm after orgasm. Decorating her body with more hickeys than Angelina Jolie had tats.

  Almost paradise. If only they loved her…

  Although Zoe needed that badly, she wasn’t about to hope for a miracle and decided to simply go with the flow. Once all of them had fixed their clothes, Stefin pulled Zoe onto his lap, his arm around her waist, cock against her ass. He refused to allow anything else.

  “Still can’t decide what you want for supper?” he said to her.

  She lifted her shoulders. “Sorry.”

  “No need to be. Bring everything,” he ordered the waitress, handing the menu to her.

  She looked skeptical. “You guys got the dough for that? Last time you were here, you only gave me a two-percent tip. Give me three tonight, and I may be able to afford that yacht I’ve had my eye on.”

  Even in the dim lighting, Zoe could see the guys’ faces coloring in embarrassment. They were proud demons, used to having whatever they wanted. It hadn’t been easy for them to do things the mortal way, especially with the slave wages Becca offered. She wasn’t an unfair boss. Satan had requested the shitty pay to teach the guys a lesson in humility.

  Zoe would have offered to take care of the check herself but figured that would only humiliate them further. However, there was another solution. “You’re off the clock. During that time, supernatural powers rule.”

  Stefin grinned. Taro and Anatol weren’t as enthused.

  “Okay, that was stretching it,” she admitted. “But trust me, please. You can be bad boys tonight. I won’t tell.”

  “Everything then,” Taro said to the waitress. “We’re starving.”

  They took turns fondling and kissing Zoe as they waited for their meal, with her staggering from lap to lap, undone by passion. When the food arrived, she was snuggled against Anatol, twisting one of his dreadlocks around her finger.

  The waitress set up the feast. For Stefin, there was blini, vareniky, salmon and potato salad, borscht with meat, piroshki, powdered-sugar teacakes, orange drop cookies and a liter of vodka. Anatol had Camembert, crêpes, blanquette de veau, soupe à l’oignon, hachis parmentier, various pastries and wine. Taro’s fare consisted of fried chicken, rabbit stew, black bean chili, buffalo steak, apple pie ala mode and a bottle of whiskey.

  Never having cared for the bland food of the Puritan era, Zoe sampled the guys’ dishes, loving how they held slices of beef, chicken, rabbit and buffalo between their teeth while she nibbled the savory meats until their lips touched. When she was finished, they licked dribbles of sauce and juices from her mouth and started all over again with new taste sensations. Giving her a piece of everything.

  Showing Zoe the time of her life.

  Thoroughly stuffed and unwilling to consider the future, Zoe surrendered to hedonism as she hadn’t before. Boogying with her guys to music that was so loud it would break a mortal’s eardrums, throwing back shots of vodka with Stefin, sipping Anatol’s wine, licking drops of whiskey from Taro’s lips and his whiskery chin.

  Good times, even if they’d be fleeting.

  Zoe woke up in her own bed by herself. How she got there or why she was alone, she had no idea. Frantically, she checked her apartment for a note. There wasn’t any. No texts on her smartphone or voicemails either. Crestfallen, she dragged herself to the office before anyone else got there, head pound
ing, body aching, feet throbbing.

  On a mournful groan, she lowered her head to her desk. It and the room kept spinning. Didn’t matter. She had to be here to see her guys and find out what had happened last night after she blacked out.

  Zoe hoped she hadn’t bitched at them or worse. That she’d confessed her love. Please not that. The last she recalled, the guys had been carrying her on their shoulders while doing a traditional Russian folk dance. Flashes of the cheering crowd popped in her mind. She vaguely remembered Anatol losing his grip on her, followed by Taro and Stefin.

  Her sore hip proved they’d dropped her on the floor. What had happened after that? Other than them finding someone new to boogey with.

  Zoe’s stomach churned as she thought about the waitress’s really attractive fangs. Although the band members were fairly hideous, as banshees generally were, all of them did have big boobs and curvy hips.

  Damn, damn, damn. Why did she have the body of a pre-teen? Why hadn’t she let MJ fix that during the make—

  “Zoe?”

  Heather. Zoe folded her arms over her head and stifled her moan.

  Unfortunately, that played to Heather’s sympathetic nature. “Are you all right? You seem kind of—” She stopped and sucked in a breath. “Oh my God, what did you do to your feet?”

  They were twice the size they usually were, her skin oozing over the ribbons. Last night Zoe’s feet had started to turn maroon. She hadn’t had the nerve to look at them this morning, nor had she wanted to remove the heels. They were so hot.

  Heather fell to her knees. “Let me heal you.”

  “Don’t hurt the heels.”

  “I may have to cut them off first to get to your feet.”

  “No.” Zoe sat up so fast the room whirled out of control. Clenching her jaw, she hung onto the edge of her desk and breathed hard. “I just need to get used to them and the rest of my clothes.”

  She’d lost most of the buttons on her blouse last night, how she couldn’t recall. The slit in her skirt was even higher, showing the edge of her thong. Only her bra was unscathed, thankfully so. It gave her the contours nature hadn’t.

  “You’re not going to ever change from that outfit?” Heather asked.

  Zoe hadn’t planned to. “It’s sexy. I don’t have anything else that comes close to it. I’m not going back to my schoolgirl outfits, all right?”

  Eyes wide, Heather leaned back. “Fine with me. Do you want MJ to come up with something else for you to wear tonight?”

  What was she talking about? It was already evening, the only time vamps could come for their treatments. “You mean now?”

  “No. Although I’m sure MJ would be happy to do that too,” Heather added quickly. “I meant after work.”

  “What’s after work?”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t Stefin, Taro and Anatol tell you?”

  Zoe kept blinking, trying to get Heather into focus. Currently, there were two of her swimming to the right, the left, the… “About what?”

  “Stefin left a voicemail saying he and the others would be a few minutes late for their shifts. They had to make plans for tonight, their evening with you.”

  Seconds passed before Zoe understood Heather’s words. Even more time drifted by before she believed what Heather had said, sort of. “You’re certain they didn’t say they’d be late because they were with another babe? That is, a real babe?”

  “Of course, I’m certain. Why would they say that?”

  Because it was the only thing that made sense. Zoe had never been any man’s first choice. When it came to three guys who were total hunks, it was especially unlikely that they’d want her over anyone else. They may have had fun last night, but she’d ended up in bed alone. That was clear proof of what they thought of her.

  She guessed.

  Totally confused, Zoe turned to Heather for help as she had yesterday. Maybe this time it would work out. “Do guys usually go back to their own places after having a good time with a woman? Did Daemon do that with you?”

  Heather’s face turned the same shade Zoe’s feet had been last night. “Ah, he would’ve had to go back to Couturie and sleep under a tree or a bush like the other satyrs. He really didn’t want to do that.”

  Right. Zoe was mixing apples and oranges here. Daemon had fallen for Heather fast and fully, while Stefin, Taro and Anatol were only interested in a good time. For the moment, that appeared to be with her, if they were going to take her out tonight.

  She rubbed her temples and offered a weak smile as Becca, Constance and MJ poured into her office. After checking out Zoe’s mussed clothes, Constance gave her two thumbs up. MJ made an O with her thumb and forefinger, indicating success. Becca sniffed. “You smell like a distillery.”

  “Better than sulfur,” Constance said.

  Becca threw her a warning glance, turned back to Zoe and gaped at her feet. “Good God, can’t you take those heels off?”

  “I don’t want to.” Zoe pulled her feet under the chair despite how much it hurt to move them. “They’re fine. They don’t ache nearly as bad as my head does.”

  Constance wiggled her brows. “Fun night, huh?”

  Zoe grinned and then winced at the stab of pain shooting across her skull.

  Becca sighed. “Heather, heal Zoe’s hangover and see to her feet.”

  “No.” Zoe leaned away. “I don’t have time for that. I need a new outfit for after work tonight.”

  “You need one for work too,” Becca said, taking in Zoe’s ruined blouse. “MJ, can you see to it?”

  “Easy-peasy. Just tell me what you want.”

  “Stefin, Anatol and Taro,” Zoe mumbled.

  MJ glanced at the others and then offered a confused smile. “You’re wishing for their hearts? Metaphorically, of course. You want me to—”

  “Hold it,” Becca cut in. She went to Zoe and took her hands. “What happened last night?”

  Almost everything Zoe had ever needed except the most important thing. Commitment. “Nothing bad. We all had a great time. Some of it I don’t even remember.”

  Constance pumped her fist in the air. Becca got her worried look, the one that signaled a lecture was coming.

  Crap. Just what Zoe didn’t need.

  “You don’t think tonight will be as good?” Becca asked.

  “Knowing the guys, it’ll probably be even better.” Zoe’s smile faded quickly. “Until they get tired of me and find a real babe to hang out with.”

  “That again?” Constance complained. “Girl, what is wrong with you?”

  “For starters, I’m flat-chested,” Zoe shot back, pulling her hands from Becca. “If you have the rest of the week, I can detail what else isn’t right about me.”

  “I can give you boobs,” MJ said. “All you have to do is wish for them.”

  “Don’t do it,” Heather pleaded. “They’re murder to carry around. My back hurt all the time when Becca’s potion made mine huge.”

  All eyes were suddenly on Becca. She fisted her fingers. “There was nothing wrong with that damn potion. My mother swore by it. Heather went from an A cup to a C just like she wanted. That wasn’t failure. It was a success.”

  “Except Daemon didn’t care for them,” MJ said. “He likes Heather the way she is.”

  Zoe made a face. “That’s because she’s already gorgeous and he’s in love. I’m working at a disadvantage here.”

  Constance clucked her tongue. Becca cradled Zoe’s face in her palm. “Remember when I thought Eric couldn’t possibly love someone like me?”

  Zoe nodded. “It was awful. You were hell to work with. Barking orders. Bursting into tears for no damn good reason. Dragging around here like a zombie. Actually, you were worse than a—”

  “I get it, all right?” She was back to making fists. “That’s not what I meant. He did love me. I
was just too afraid and uncertain to recognize it.”

  “You almost screwed that up, big time,” Constance said.

  Heather nodded. “Don’t let what Becca did happen to you, Zoe. Give your guys a chance.”

  She hadn’t planned to do anything else. However, the question remained—would Stefin, Anatol and Taro do the same for her? Zoe wondered if it was possible for them to allow her deep inside, make her a part of their lives, or if she was doomed to be their plaything for only a little while.

  Right now, that’s all Zoe had, and she simply didn’t want to lose it. “What do you guys suggest I wear here and then later?”

  “Different shoes for sure,” MJ said, making a face at Zoe’s swollen toes. “Probably something orthopedic.”

  “What?” Zoe pulled her feet in even more, gasping at the awful pain.

  “Just kidding.” MJ winked. “You want hot again?”

  “For later,” Becca said. “Not here. At the office, she should be elegant. Give the guys a taste of what’s to come. Make them want more.”

  “What if they don’t?” Zoe said. “I don’t want them to lose interest.”

  “They won’t. Trust me,” Becca said.

  Zoe recalled all the fuck-ups with Becca’s magic and her relationship with Eric before things miraculously turned around. Slumping against the back of her chair, she rubbed her aching temple. “Heather?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Help me, please.”

  With her healing touch, Heather banished Zoe’s headache and wooziness in less than a second. Her feet took a little longer, but at last they looked normal again. Becca insisted Zoe try on a few pairs of heels this time and walk in them before deciding on which to wear. “You want a good fit. Something that supports your arches.”

  “Maybe she should use some of those Dr. Scholl’s things,” Heather said.

  Zoe curled her upper lip. “Those are for elderly people. I’m not even three-hundred-and-fifty years old yet.”

  “A regular baby,” MJ said. “I’ve got thousands of years on you and I wouldn’t use them either.”