Full Moon Rising

I did as directed and sat on his lap, my thighs straddling his hips, legs stretched wide either side of the chair. It was a devastatingly intimate position that had the blood pounding through my veins and yet it wasn’t anywhere near intimate enough for my liking. I slid back and, before he realized what I was up to, quickly undid his zipper, freeing his cock from all restrictions. Then I wriggled over him until he was right under me, hard flesh against wet

He groaned. “Jesus, Riley, don’t move or I’m gone.”

I gri

“And that’s all I intend to allow them.” He touched a hand to my face, his fingers so warm against my skin. “When I make love to you for the first time, it won’t be with an audience at my back. And it will be somewhere decidedly more comfortable than an office.”

“You are so old-fashioned. And an audience can definitely add to the spice.” I wriggled a little, just to tease him some more. The tremor that ran through him was fierce, as was his intake of breath. “Besides, if you just sit there like a store dummy, they’re going to suspect something is wrong.”

The grin that touched his lips was decidedly wicked. “Oh, I have no intention of just sitting here.”

His hands skimmed my sides and lifted the gossamer creation away. He dropped it beside the chair, then slid one hand around to my spine, pressing me forward until my nipples brushed his mouth

His breath was hot and damp across my flesh, sending goose bumps rippling. Then his tongue replaced his breath, and slowly, languorously, he worked his way toward an engorged point. When his lips surrounded it, sucking it deep inside his mouth, I trembled, a helpless sound of pleasure escaping

He chuckled softly, a throaty sound that was as seductive and as arousing as his touch, and moved his attention to my other breast

The door clicked open. The breathing of the two men rasped against the silence, a sound that roughened, quickened. I couldn’t have given a damn what the two men were seeing or feeling. Not when every fiber of my being thrummed with pleasure

Qui

When he finally pulled away, I groaned. His hands slipped down to my hips, holding me still, then he leaned his head against the back of the chair, and said, “I believe you’ve seen enough for one night, gentlemen.”

The door closed. Footsteps moved away

“Oh God,” I said, my voice ragged. “You can’t stop now.” I’d die if he stopped

“I have no intention of stopping just yet.” Though it was Brown’s voice, the heat, the passion, so evident within it stirred my already aching senses

His hand slid up the inside of my spread thighs, his fingers grazing me. I shuddered, thrusting into his touch, sure I was going to bust if he didn’t get on with it. “Stop teasing,” I moaned, when he did it a second time

He chuckled again, then wrapped his free hand around my neck and pulled me down. His kiss was hot, lavish, branding and possessing my mouth in a way no other man ever had

As his mouth claimed mine, his fingers slid between us, pressing into my slickness, caressing, delving. I shifted, giving him greater access, moaning when his fingers slipped inside. Then his thumb pressed into my clit, and he began to stroke, inside and out. I shuddered, writhed, as the sweet pressure built and built, until it felt as if every fiber of my being was going to tear apart from the sheer force of pleasure

Then everything did, and I grabbed his shoulders, my fingers digging into his flesh as the tremors rolled through me

After what seemed like ages I remembered how to breathe again. “Wow,” was all I managed to say

“Wow indeed.” His voice was a mix of male satisfaction and simmering tension. “Feel a little better now?”

“I’m feeling a whole lot selfish now, actually. Which is why”—I shifted, capturing him, driving him deep—“I think I should return the favor.”

His hands came down on my hips and held me still. Then he smiled his dangerous smile and sent my pulse rate skittering again. “When I make love to you, Riley, it will be after a long, slow, seduction of your senses. I like to do things properly the first time.”

Bedevilment ran through me. He really didn’t know much about werewolves if he thought I’d let him get away with a statement like that. Or without taking some pleasure himself

And there was more than one way to give pleasure, as he’d so amply shown. I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really. I told you, I’m an old-fashioned man.”

“Then I guess I’d better rise and get back to the business at hand.”

“I guess you’d better.”

I placed a hand on his chest, holding him still and in place as I threw one leg over his. His erection, all veins and knots and hard, hard flesh, looked positively painful, his flesh red and glistening with my moisture. Keeping one hand on his chest, I leaned forward and kissed him, long and slow. Then, before he could react, I dropped to my knees beside him, claimed his erection with one hand, and ran my tongue around the tip. He jumped, then groaned. “Jesus, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” I murmured, ru

“This is dangerous. Any delay is dangerous.”

There was a desperation to his voice that made me smile. This vampire wanted what I was offering, no matter what his words were saying

“I love the taste of danger.” I ran my tongue back up to the tip, and added, “And I love the taste of you.”

I took him in my mouth. Drew him deep, sucking and tasting and teasing him, until his movements became desperate and the salty taste of him began seeping into my mouth. I sucked again, harder this time, and he came, fiercely and violently, his whole body jerking with the force of it

When he was done, I licked the tip of him and looked up. “So how did the old-fashioned man enjoy that?”

“You’re a witch.” He shook his head, as if still unable to believe what I’d just done. “And as I said, any delay could prove costly. Even glorious ones.”

I gri

“True.” He gently pushed me upright, then handed me the dress. “Shall we continue investigating?”

I was half-inclined to continue what we’d started, but he was right about one thing—we were there to work, not play

We continued searching the drawers. I was on my final one when I found a folder marked “White Phantom Project.” It wasn’t anything I’d ever heard of—though I was hardly in a position to hear or see anything top secret—but something about the name stirred my curiosity. Inside, there were old floor plans, building sketches, and the like, as well as the names of several people who no longer worked for the Directorate. I handed the folder across to Qui

He took it and had a quick glance. “It doesn’t give us much.” He glanced at the name on the spine, and his frown deepened. “You know, Genoveve is a form of Guinevere, which is both French and Welsh. I believe Guinevere means either white wave or white phantom.”

“So?”

“So, white phantoms are a form of vampire.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

He nodded. “It’s a bit of a stretch, but at this stage, I think we can afford to grab at anything.”

He tossed the folder on the chair with the other one. We finished searching our prospective drawers but didn’t find anything else. I picked out a couple of the disks, then Qui

“All calls from the offices are recorded,” I said, as he picked up the phone

“I’m not intending to use it.” He held out a finger. On it was a pinhead-sized dot. “The latest in bug technology.”