City Wolf 3

Stacy gripped her glass of white wine between two fingers and the thumb of one hand while crossing her body with her arm and bracing the other hand under her elbow. She resisted slumping against the wall and revealing to one and all how bored she was. Bored? Yeah right. She was lonely, and her feelings were hurt that none of the guys at Zandrea’s party had looked her way beyond a glance of appreciation before turning back to their conversations with each other. If she didn’t know better, she would have suspected the assholes were gay, but there were other women there beyond her two best friends, and those women had more than one of the guys pushing up on them, trying to get some play. Then here she was, in the corner, alone.

For real, she’d been shocked out of her mind to learn what Zandrea and Nita’s boyfriends were wolf shape-shifters. That had bad sci-fi movie written all over it, but it would explain some of the crazy ass stuff that had happened since they had all been dating. Zandrea had told her it was against the rules for humans to know about them, but since Stacy was her girl, she couldn’t bear lying to her any more.

So, Zandrea had invited her to her party, but warned her that the place would be jam-packed with other wolf shifters. She had neglected to say every one of them, even the damn women, were physical perfection. Stacy had never considered herself an anecdote. In fact, she thought she was very pretty, with a good body, but she had anger issues and a real attitude problem. Every one of her ex-boyfriends had said the same thing—along with her mother, her teachers when she was still in school, and her boss.

She searched the overcrowded room, straining to pick up bits of conversation around her, admiring the dark suits on some of the guys, and the casual slacks with open collared shirts on the others. Zandrea’s house was sweet too. Zandrea had called the room they were in, the party room. The thing looked like it was twice the size of Stacy’s entire apartment, and the fireplace, the artwork on the walls, and the furniture just screamed money.

Were they all rich too? Damn!

She felt a frown steal over her face, and as hard as she tried to erase it and give off vibes of being available, she couldn’t do it. Could they sense what she was feeling, that she had hang-ups with men, that she fought like hell to keep them away from her heart? From the little Zandrea had told her, she was pretty sure the shifters couldn’t read her mind, but they did have a keen sense of smell. And real wolves, or the all-animal variety, could sense what a person was feeling by smell. Or was that only when it came to fear?

Hell, they were men, right? Most of them didn’t want anything permanent. She didn’t either. All she wanted was a little fun, maybe a bed partner for a few months. That wasn’t too much to ask. She moved her glass to the side of her body and glanced down at herself. Her dress was smokin’ if she did say so herself. The second she’d tried it on, she’d known the dress clung to her body in all the right ways.

With lycra in the deep blue material, it stretched nice over her boobs and hung low enough to show off some cleavage. The length barely reached a half foot past her ass, and she’d caught several of the men sucking in a breath and nudging their friends when they’d spotted her. She had thought the usual look of ‘come and get you some’ thrown over her shoulder would bring at least one of them to her, but nope. Nothing. What the hell was her problem?

Miserable, she gulped down the last of her wine and then headed over to a server to snag another glass. Maybe if she loosened up enough, she could just walk up on one of the men and take what she wanted.

With her second glass half gone, she surveyed the crowd. One man in particular had been catching her eye all night. He was tall, like they all were, maybe six four or five. His shoulders were so broad, she could see herself either hanging onto them while he worked her, or with her legs slung over them while he... She forced the thought from her mind. First she had to get tall, dark, and sexy-as-hell to look her way.

Feeling her usual boldness returning, she glided in his direction, weaving through the other people in the room, but never taking her eyes off him. He stood in a crowd of his buddies, a drink in his hand and a smile on full lips she wanted to lick and then kiss until her own were numb. His midnight blue eyes sparkled like he was happy with life and everything in it. She wanted them on her, to change that look from simple happiness to all out lust. Damn, she was horny.

She drew closer. He gestured to his friend, shook his head, and then reached up to push back a lock of hair that had fallen on his forehead. Her fingernails tore into her palm. Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to fix that for you soon, she told him silently.

At last she was in front of him, cutting him off from his friends. She let her breasts brush his chest and tilted her head back to look up at him. His eyes shifted from her face to her boobs, lingered there a while, and then moved back to her face. He grinned.

“Hey,” she said, in no hurry to explain herself. After all, her body was saying everything it needed to, and the growing bulge between them was a good answer.

“Hey,” he responded.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

One of his dark eyebrows rose. He didn’t move, and the smile didn’t lessen either. In fact, his eyes seemed to indicate he was laughing at her. All of a sudden, Stacy felt like an idiot. He was going to push her away and talk about her with his friends. But she was always bold. She’d lived her life that way, and she couldn’t back down now that she’d come so far.

“Well?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “What the hell.”

She had just enough time to wonder what was up with that, like he didn’t want to but was humoring her, before his mouth descended on hers. She thought he would give her a soft peck, and it would be over, but somewhere she heard a tinkle of breaking glass, and his arms came up around her. He gripped her waist and lifted her up to his body then ran a hand down over her ass. Stacy clung to him. She had to because when he thrust his tongue between her lips and moaned in greedy hunger, it was all she could do not to fall on the floor from all the strength leaving her body.

She’d had a comb in her hair with jewels on it, to hold back her long hair. He threaded his fingers into her hair and pushed the comb away. Stacy ran her hands into his hair as well, loving the silky feel of it sliding between her fingers. She’d never kissed a white man, and damn if she didn’t know what she’d been missing.

The man broke the kiss and ran his mouth down her throat, sucking at her skin and licking her until she shook from head to toe. When he moved to her shoulder and had pushed back the thin strip of material there holding her dress up, someone shouted, “whoa,” and yanked him away from Stacy.

Shrill whistles filled the room, and several of the men clapped. Embarrassment stole over her, but she was still on fire. She’d made a connection. Now all she had to do was get this guy’s number, and they could finish this in private. Turning her attention away from those looking on, she glanced at the man and smiled. “I’m Stacy.”

He grinned in return. She picked up on his easygoing attitude and liked that about him. “I know. Zandrea and Nita’s human friend.”

Relief flooded her. So he knew what he was getting into, and he knew she was aware of them as well. “Yeah. So you want to go somewhere and...uh...talk?” She smirked at the crowd. “Away from nosey folk?”

He shook his head, and she blinked.

“Huh?”

His smile widened, and he leaned out to whisper in her ear, although she knew from what Zandrea told her, all of them had over the top hearing ability. “Stick with your own kind. I’m not interested.”

And with that, his arrogant ass, spun on his heel and walked away, leaving her in the middle of the floor looking like a fool.