Neecy sighed in exasperation. “Why do you care where I…oh…oh…shit!” He’d latched on to her breast and happily sucked away at her nipple. Digging her fingers into his scalp, she pulled him tighter to her. But, suddenly, he stopped.
Gritting her teeth in pure rage, Neecy bit out, “I have to talk to get you to keep going, don’t I?”
“This is why I love the Crows,” he joked around her breast. “You guys are so smart.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, yeah. I think you guys are brilliant.”
“I don’t mean that!” Dammit! Emotion. Neecy Lawrence didn’t show emotion.
“Don’t over-‐think this, baby. Just tell me what I wanna know.”
Sighing, “Fine. I went to Stanford.” As soon as “I” was out of her mouth, he started sucking again, making sure to swirl his tongue around exactly the way she liked it.
“Keep going,” he ordered around her breast.
Biting her lip, Neecy forced herself to focus. “They have a really good history prog…” she choked on the word as his sucking became stronger. But as soon as she paused, so did he. She shut her eyes tight. With very little effort, Yager could make her come simply by sucking her breasts, but he was torturing her. The bastard.
“Program. I’d heard some really…uh…” One hand stayed on her ass, pulling her tight against his rock-‐hard erection. His free hand grabbed her other breast and began kneading it. “Uh…” Think, girl! “Some really great things about it. Plus, it allowed me to train with the…the…California Crows.” She squeaked out the very last part as his teeth gently nipped her nipple. The bastard knew that drove her insane.
Without releasing her, he asked, “What about grad school?”
Neecy blinked, trying desperately to focus on his questions and her answers. Not easy when her entire body was moments from bursting into a nuclear reaction that would destroy the entire Tri-‐state area. “I went to NYU for my masters.
And Columbia for my…my…um…”
“Don’t stop,” he warned again.
Would sobbing at this point, really be out of line? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t handle much more at this rate. And at this point, she gripped him so tight, she wasn’t sure she might not be killing him.
“For my…my… doctorate!” she screamed as she exploded all around him.
He held her tight as spasms racked through her. When she finally started breathing normally again, he lowered her to the bed.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Without opening her eyes, she growled at him. Which only made him chuckle.
Slowly he kissed his way down her chest and stomach. When he kissed the inside of her thigh, Neecy forced her eyes open.
With a strange but thoughtful expression on his face, he stared straight into her snatch. The man was getting stranger and stranger by the minute.
Glancing up at her, he grinned. “Now…” He gave her still-‐sensitive clit a little lick, forcing Neecy to grab hold of the sheets to stop her body from exploding off the bed. “Tell me what your masters was on, then your doctorate. And I want details. Lots and lots of very specific details.”
Really? Would sobbing really be that bad?
Yager stretched and enjoyed the smell of Neecy surrounding him.
Well, that had been amazing. One of the most amazing nights he’d had in a very long time. He knew he had her now. There was no way she could walk away from him this time. No way in hell.
Turning over onto his side, Yager reached for her and touched nothing but paper. He forced his eyes open and picked up the slip of paper lying on the pillow next to him.
He read it. Closed his eyes. Rubbed them. Then read it again. No. The words hadn’t changed.
“There’s orange juice and cereal. When you leave, make sure to pull the door closed so that it’ll lock. Thanks for last night. See you around. Neecy.”
Sitting up, Yager grunted and ignored his sore, well-‐used body’s protests. Right now he didn’t care about any aches or pains.
“See you around?” Is she fucking kidding?
Chapter Thirteen
Damon Lewis still couldn’t believe it. His brother, Darryl, gone. Half the Pack with him. And these…females behind it. These freaks.
As far as he was concerned, they were like demons or the undead. It was one thing for a goddess to bring someone back to life, but to have changed them somehow…Well, that was something else all together.
Something evil.
But the black woman behind the desk kept telling him and his father that Darryl brought all this on himself. He’d used some ancient artifact to make himself invulnerable. Damon didn’t want to believe it, but he knew it was true. Knew his brother had delved into things he never should have and seriously wasn’t smart enough to control.
And because of that Darryl paid the price.
Damon looked at the woman across from him and his father. A true politician that one, but he couldn’t stop staring at her goddamn wings. They…fluttered, or something. It was disturbing.
However, not as disturbing as the big scary female standing near the door, blocking his way to freedom.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She had to be at least six feet tall.
At least. With short black hair and cold coal-‐black eyes. He had no idea if she were also black or something else like Cuban or whatever. She stood off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest, her feet braced apart, and a brutally cold expression on her face. She was a big girl. Not fat. Actually, he didn’t think there was an ounce of fat on her. But she had muscles and her frame could clearly carry a lot more. Her eyes slid over to him and he moved his gaze to the floor.
She made the She-‐wolves in his Pack seem weak and girly.
These women with their scary wings and watchful demeanor were downright unholy and he wanted to go. Preferably now.
Damon knew there’d be no war over what happened to his brother. Wolves didn’t waste time with bullshit especially when his brother asked for it. His Pack wasn’t about to take on these freaks for a wolf who’d gone bad.
His father nodded at the woman’s words and then stood up. The tall female opened the door, allowing them to leave. Damon and his father walked out, but froze right in the doorway, too terrified to move.
They were everywhere. Perched on the banister and stairs. On top of the hallway furniture. And if there was no where to perch, they stood. Stood and stared. Damon had no idea how long they’d been sitting out here waiting for them. But he felt like it might have been the entire two-‐hour meeting.
Damon’s father snapped out of it first, grabbed his young son’s arm, and headed down the hallway toward the exit. He pulled the heavy oak door open and stepped outside, but there were more waiting out there, too. This time, his father ignored them and kept going. Down the front house steps and toward their car…their completely shitted-‐upon car.
The only thing that didn’t suffer was the window on the driver’s side—so they could leave. Damon looked up and saw hundreds of actual crows in the trees.
They didn’t make a sound either. They just watched them.
At that point, his father threw him in the car and got in right after him. Without waiting, the old man tore out of the driveway. Short of an actual war with these people, Damon had no doubt they’d never come here again.
Neecy, the last to come in, quietly closed the door. Slowly, she turned and faced her sisters.
Clapping her hands together, she cheered, “What good doggies! Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”
The Crows burst out laughing. And they laughed their asses off for the next half-‐ hour.