I fully planned on insisting she get dressed and having a sit-down discussion about dominant animals and her required submission.
Instead, I snag her wrist and spin her to face the wall. I press her small hand beneath mine against the textured plaster, pick up the other, and add it to my collection. She’s still topless, and now I have the world’s best top view of her cleavage. Heaving cleavage. Because she’s definitely excited by my little show of who’s boss.
I pin both her wrists against the wall with one hand and squeeze her breast roughly with the other. My open mouth finds the column of her neck. “You need to understand something, little fox. In a pack, there are rules.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t pack.” There’s a hurt quality to her voice that makes my wolf whine.
“Shifters, then. Either way, you need to know the limits on your behavior.”
“If I misbehave I’ll get groped by a hot wolf?” she suggests hopefully.
I suppress a laugh. “I mean it. Following the rules can save your life.” She doesn’t understand how dangerous this world is, and that’s the part that has my wolf going nuts.
“Okay.”
I release her breast and rest my palm on her ass. “Your actions have consequences. Shifters who step out of line are punished.”
“You gonna ground me?” Her voice is pure sex, husky.
“Mm, no,” I rumble in her ear. I work the button on her short-shorts with my free hand and tug them until they drop to the floor. “I take a more hands-on approach.”
She waggles her ass in a clear invitation.
Fates, I want to take this so much farther than I’m going to. I have images flashing in my brain of stripping her completely naked and pounding her hard from behind.
Instead, I bring my palm down on her panty-clad ass.
“Ooh!” She jumps.
Did I spank her too hard?
I crane my neck to see her face. She’s biting her lip, cheeks flushed with color, eyes glazed.
She likes it.
I smack her cute ass again. And again.
And then the goddamn doorbell rings.
~.~
Foxfire
Tank goes rigid. He releases me in a flash and yanks my top over my head. Motioning for me to stay put, he heads to the door.
So, of course, I yank on my jean shorts and follow him. He stops in the hall.
“It’s a man,” he says softly. “I can smell him.”
I wrinkle my nose. I can’t smell anything that specific yet. “It’s probably Benny. He’s supposed to come by to get his stuff.”
He catches my arm. “Are you going to be cool?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to run now. You’re the only one telling me I’m not crazy.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Har har. I’ll be right back. Stay out of sight.” I wave Tank into the kitchen, and he goes, face stony.
Should I flaunt my ex in front of him? He went nuts over my Daisy Dukes.
The doorbell goes again.
“Coming,” I sing and open the door.
It’s not Benny but a guy wearing a trench coat. It’s still early on a Sunday morning, and my neighborhood is pretty quiet. We don’t usually get solicitors.
“Can I help you?”
“Foxfire Hines?”
“That’s me,” I chirp. “Can I help you?”
“Yes.” The man pulls his hand from his pocket and points a gun at me.
~.~
Tank
I smell the gun before Foxfire’s fear hits me, bitter and potent. My wolf snarls.
I pad through her “grow light room.” Maybe I can move fast enough to get to him before he sees what’s coming.
My lips curl back. My wolf is ready to hunt.
“What the fuck is this about?” My rainbow-haired pixie puts her hands on her hips. I groan No, Foxfire. Behave.
“Just get inside, sweetheart. We’ll talk it over.”
“Who are you?” she demands. “Who sent you?”
What is it about her that makes her bluster in the face of danger? Now is not the fucking time. Does she think the gun is a toy?
I want to smack her ass all over again.
The man pushes inside, and she trips and falls with a soft cry.
I see red. Five seconds later, the thug is on the floor at my feet. I kick the gun away.
“Foxfire. Shut the door.”
She scrambles to obey.
The man is unconscious. Considering how hard I hit him, he’ll probably be out for a while. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I still might.
I use a blanket to grab the gun, and then I wrench it open, emptying the chamber.
Unmarked. Street gun. Mine, now. My wolf snarls. I focus on the gun to keep my wolf from tearing the man apart.
“Duct tape in my bag,” I tell her. She nods and rushes to get it. I tie the man and cover his mouth.
Foxfire is pale and trembling. I take a deep breath and get my rage under control. Ripping this man limb from limb won’t solve anything, and will terrify her.
“Come here.” I open my arms. She dashes to them. Her body is so tiny. I swing her up and carry her to the couch, where I can comfort her and keep my eyes on the thug.
“What does he want?” Foxfire shudders.
“I don’t know, baby,” I nuzzle her throat. She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s in my arms. Foxfire and her crazy hair. I use a fistful to tug her head back, gently, and take her mouth. She tastes like melon and strawberries, sugar and spice, and everything Foxfire.
My lips stroke over hers, despite the man unconscious on the floor. She’s mine. Her nipples pebble against the thin shirt, and I’m about to lay her down and claim her. When I back off, she’s got stars in her eyes. I put them there. My wolf is satisfied.
“You’re going to be okay,” I tell her.