Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) (9 page)

As the kiss turned harsher, positively brutal, Mammon grabbed her by the back of the thighs and lifted her right off the ground before using his body to press her against the shelves. A wiggle, a squeeze, and she had him exactly where she wanted. So hard for her, so perfect as the head of him rubbed against the parts of her screaming for his attention. She wanted him…no kidding, joking, or lying. She wanted him naked, wanted to ride him until his entire body bowed beneath her, wanted to see this tough man crumble. But the stubborn streak that had kept her alive for so many years wasn’t ready to break.

Instead, she rocked her hips against his. Intentionally and with a rhythm that couldn’t be ignored. Mammon, bless him, mimicked her motions. Lifting her with each press. Dragging that erection against her clitoris with every retreat. Driving her wild for him.

“Make me come,” she gasped as she clutched at his shoulders.

“Demanding little thing aren’t you?” He grunted, probably reacting to her nails embedding themselves in his skin as she clawed at him. Not that she cared. She scratched harder, clutched him tighter as he rocked more earnestly. Rolling his hips in the most perfect way. Fuck, the man could move. And still he held her, lifted her, acted as if her weight was nothing. And wasn’t that just the hottest thing ever?

She gasped as he hit a spot so good, it made her eyes roll back. Mammon chuckled in response, angling to move in the same way.

“That it?” he asked, his breath coming faster and his voice deliciously dark.

“Just…don’t stop.”

“Not even if you begged.”

Charmeine sank her nails deep into his shoulder, unable to resist. “I’d never beg.”

“Oh, baby. I’ll definitely make you beg at some point.” Mammon’s growl was the only warning she had before he lifted her, practically tossing her in the air. His arms cradled her legs, his elbows holding her knees.

“You stopped.” She almost grinned as he huffed and pressed himself against her once more.

“I readjusted for a better experience. There’s a difference.”

She shrugged, trying hard to play it casual. Trying not to show him how desperate she was for more. “Looked like stopping to me.”

He thrust along her, a single, strong push. The head of his dick rubbing the entire length of her pussy. Teasing her. “Does this feel like stopping?”

Charmeine could only shake her head, the pleasure too much to form words. She was spread for him, a lewd position for sure, but the increased sensations were worth it. Her being so open, so exposed, her dress hiked up to reveal her soaked pink panties, her pussy practically on display, left her more available and sensitive. Gave him more room to tease her with every roll forward. And he took advantage. Of course, he did. Rocking his hips, thrusting, using his position to spread her wider so he could tease her entrance. She had no idea how he was so flexible, so in tune to what she craved, but she liked it. She liked it enough that her entire body buzzed with the need to come, with the draw to let go and give in to her release.

So she did.

As he grunted and growled, she gasped. A simple noise, quiet and refined, but he picked up on the cue. He pushed harder, pressed closer, leading her through an intense orgasm that had her clutching him to her. Had her shaking and shivering all over. Had her biting down on his neck as if she were accepting the mating.

And Mammon, he never stopped, never paused. He let her have her moment, let her do what she needed. Even with her teeth against his flesh, he didn’t pause. And though she didn’t break the skin, she knew he wouldn’t have stopped if she had. Didn’t know how, but she felt it. Was certain. The man was practically a sex machine with the amount of focus he kept on her.

But as she came back to herself, as she sagged in his arms, she felt him. Hard. Needing.

Charmeine tossed her head back against the shelves, meeting Mammon’s eyes for the first time since their kiss. “You—”

He shook his head. “Not about me.”

She leaned forward, licking his bottom lip, a single moment of sweetness in all the not-so-sweet. “But you’re hard.”

He chuckled, letting her legs drop but still holding her up. “Nice of you to notice. But it’s okay. I’d rather not come in my pants.”

Charmeine cocked her head, her brow pulling down. Mammon responded to her quizzical look with an arrogant smirk. As expected.

“Now, if you’d like me to take them off…”

Charmeine rolled her eyes and pushed him away. Her legs wobbled at first, but she held it together. Kept putting one foot in front of the other even as she gripped Mammon’s hand and tugged him behind her.

“I refuse to owe you.”

“Hey.” Mammon stopped her, forcing her to look his way. “There’s no owing here. You do whatever you’re comfortable with, and I’ll deal with me. I don’t want you to fuck me just because you think you carry some debt for what I just did.”

“Oh, Mammon. Haven’t you figured it out yet? I always do exactly what I want.” She pushed him back, watching with glee as he fell onto the couch. As that big, bad man collapsed because she wanted him to. Eyes locked on his, she pulled up the skirt of her dress and hooked her thumbs in her panties.

“What about Finn?” Mammon asked, looking as if Finn was really the last thing on his mind.

“Finn won’t be back. The staff won’t bother us either unless I call for them. And I don’t plan on calling for them.” Pink silk and lace dragged against her skin as she pulled her panties down. Mammon stared, transfixed, his eyes following the scrap of material as she let it fall to the floor then kicked it to the side.

“What are you up to, Char?”

“No one calls me Char.”

“I do.”

“I’ve noticed.” Charmeine leaned over him, unfastening his belt and pants. Mammon grunted but lifted his hips, allowing her to pull layers of fabric down his legs. Commando…of course.

“Do you like it?”

It took Charmeine a moment to realize he was talking about the nickname and not his erection.

“No.” A lie, really. She liked it; she also liked what she saw. Long and thick, his erection stood proudly. God, she wanted to feel that inside of her, wanted to know how much it would fill her, stretch her. How tight everything would get when she came around it. But this wasn’t the time.

“Then I’ll keep doing it,” Mammon said, giving her that wicked smirk again.

There was something about his brashness, his crude words and his rough actions, that ramped up her desire to lead him. To overpower him. And what better way to overpower a man than to control him through this act. She wanted to take him in, decide how far and fast he could fuck her mouth, and make him come on her tongue. She needed it. She was practically starving for him. But she wasn’t ready to give without getting as well.

“You call me Char, and I might not answer.”

“Sure you will. You like me too much not to.”

“Lies.” Charmeine raised an eyebrow then pulled her skirt to her waist. Mammon’s eyes dropped, his growl coming hard and fast as he took her in again. Though Charmeine was more fascinated by his erection, which bobbed slightly in response to her nakedness. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who liked what they saw.

She lifted her leg over his chest, straddling him as she faced his feet. “I want to come again, and I’m going to make you come as well.”

He gripped her hips, pulling her ass cheeks apart, rubbing her. “You like being in charge, don’t you?”

Charmeine looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I told you, I always do what I want. And right now, I want to come with your tongue on my pussy.”

Without a moment of hesitation, she bent over and took his weighty erection in her mouth. No introductory licks or teasing touches. No, the man needed to come. His cock dripped with desire, probably hurting with the level of his need. As much as she hated him—and she was pretty sure she still hated him, at least in her mind—she wanted him to find his release. And she wanted to give it to him…with her mouth.

Mammon, bless him, jerked and groaned as she sucked him down. “Holy shit.”

Charmeine didn’t pause, though. She sucked and licked and pulled him all the way inside. One hand on his thigh for balance, the other between his legs as she fondled his heavy sac, she gave him as much as she could. And he liked it. He thrust and growled, cursing softly behind her.

And then his tongue was on her clit and his lips were sucking her sensitive flesh. She almost stopped her attention, almost gave in to the desire to let him take care of her and focus on her own pleasure. But she wanted to taste him, needed it. Craved his release more than her own.

His mouth was brutal, rough and aggressive, just like him. His fingers, blunt and thick, pushed inside her as he lapped at her. She moaned around him at the intrusion, earning a bigger thrust of those fingers and a scrape of his teeth against her clit. Damn, the man was talented.

“Char,” he gasped, giving her the warning his body already had. She hadn’t failed to notice the way his legs shook or how hard the muscles in his abdomen had become as she’d worked him. He was close, but so was she. Ignoring his plea, she moaned again and kept up with her motions, increasing her speed. Mammon pulled his fingers away but went back to work with his mouth, running his tongue along the length of her opening before pushing inside. Charmeine shivered, so very close again. Ready to fall but determined to take him with her.

Hips rocking, legs shaking, Charmeine kept pushing even as she wanted to break. His tongue felt so good against her, his mouth so hot. But not yet. She concentrated on the feel of him in her mouth instead. The weight of him. The taste. But when he growled against her, when his lips vibrated and his hips thrust up and he finally fell, she couldn’t hold back.

Shivering, shaking, she came as he did. She barely remembered to swallow, her mind so caught on her own pleasure. On the shock waves rolling through her.

It took far longer to regain her composure than she’d hoped. The warmth of his body against hers, the feel of his hands caressing her back, all led her to fall into a comfortable sort of haze. But eventually, she remembered. The families that had been torn apart, the packs that had been destroyed, the lives that had been ended because someone trusted an outsider. There were children under her care, shifters young and old who needed her to stay on her guard. She could not fall for a charming man who may not be who he said he was. Eventually, she remembered who she needed to be and how she shouldn’t trust him. And so, as heartbreaking and physically agonizing as it was to do, she pulled her figurative mask back into place. And she crawled off him.

“Where you going?” His words were slightly slurred, a happy sort of drawl to them. The kind that spoke of sleep, of affection. Of intimacy and trust. All things she couldn’t give him.

“I need a shower.” She lifted her chin, readying herself for the fight. Knowing he wouldn’t like her next words. Knowing she wouldn’t, either. In fact, hating herself for even saying them but picturing all the refugees she’d helped over the years, their faces stained with tears from night terrors. The fear they carried with them every single day. She had to. Her life was not just about her. “I think you’d better go.”

His face. She couldn’t look at it, couldn’t meet his pained eyes. Couldn’t even glance his way for fear of tearing up. “Char.”

A shiver screamed up her spine when he spoke that one word, one she forced her body to ignore. “My name is Charmeine.”

Mammon’s hurt turned to anger quicker than she expected. “So this is it? You get off and kick me out without even a postcoital snuggle?”

The words cut, because deep down, she wanted to snuggle with him for days. She wanted to lie in his arms and imagine she was safe. But it wasn’t safety she saw when she closed her eyes and tried to imagine her future. It was blood—on her shoes, on the wood floors, on her father’s old desk. Blood everywhere. Something she couldn’t allow to happen again. She wanted more things than she could ever have, but most of all, she wanted to keep her wards safe and secure. She wanted them to live a life very much unlike her own.

So she tugged down her dress and grabbed her panties, making sure to leave no trace behind of what they’d done.

“I don’t snuggle.”

Mammon snorted a sarcastic half laugh. “You think a blow job is somehow less intimate than a cuddle?”

“Sex is physical, not emotional. Now, cuddling?” She leaned over him, looking him right in the eye. Locking her emotions behind the tallest, thickest wall she had. “Being naked together, really naked, as in more than just skin on skin, is true intimacy. That’s personal.” She stood and ran a hand over her hair to smooth it. “You’ve had a piece of my body. That doesn’t mean I’ve given you any of my heart.”

But Mammon’s temper didn’t flare as she’d expected. Instead, he sagged into the couch, watching her. Looking almost…challenging.

“How do I earn it?”

His honest question stopped her in her tracks. Her answer something automatic and vague. “I have to trust you first.”

She should have known Mammon wouldn’t let her get away with that, though. He reached for her, his flinch obvious when she jerked away.

“How do I get you to trust me?”

And wasn’t that the question? She very well might have wanted to trust so she could learn more about him, but the threat, the fear, was stronger than her curiosity, and she wasn’t sure she could move past that. Wasn’t sure she should even try.

“I don’t know.” Charmeine didn’t even give him a glance as she walked toward the doorway. “I don’t know if I
can
trust anymore.”

M
ammon knew
someone would be in his apartment long before he approached the door, which certainly didn’t help buoy his mood any. He’d been hoping for some time alone to get his thoughts in order, but nope. Wouldn’t be happening. The black Suburban and the Jeep in the lot gave his Dire brothers away. Apparently, he would have a debriefing before he could think about his mate, her situation, and how he had no idea if she’d ever truly accept him. Now that he actually wanted her to.

Matings were too complicated sometimes.

Without thinking it over, he grabbed his phone and typed a quick message to Charmeine. She’d probably be a little shocked that he knew her cell number, but he didn’t care. Being a Dire Wolf came with privileges, one of them being having Deus to hack into various databases to find the information they needed. And right then, he needed to talk to his mate.

I won’t stop trying to earn your trust, just so you know. Prepare to be courted.

Her response came before he’d finished climbing the stairs to his level of the building.

Who is this? And no one says courting anymore. You should try to keep up with the times.

Feisty. He liked it. And he was damn sure she knew exactly who was texting her.

And you should try to get some sleep. Maybe read a book. If you grabbed
Blubber
off the shelf, I bet it’d still smell like me.

He almost laughed. She’d definitely have something to say about that. But before he could deal with her, though, he needed to handle whatever was waiting for him in his apartment. Fuck, what a long night.

“Lucy, I’m home.” Mammon walked inside and closed the door behind him, eyeing the three Dires sitting around his tiny efficiency. Dwarfing it, really, not that the place needed any help in that department. He would have said the Dires would be a better fit in the extra-large dining room at the O’Rourke estate, but that would be a lie. They wouldn’t fit there either in their dark jeans and combat boots. No, these boys would fit best in some dark, smoky bar where dart boards, fried foods, and cold beers were the selling points of the night. Far removed from the steel and stone of the O’Rourke mansion. Not a one of them belonged there.

And yet, Mammon ached to go back…to be with his mate. Not his brothers, who seemed to think they owned his space.

Bez was all leaned back in his chair, balancing on just the back two legs, scowling and probably trying to seem dangerous. Both habits Sariel had yet to break him of. Thaus, on the other hand, had his head back and his eyes closed. The bastard looked as if he was napping.

But it was Phego, sitting board straight and looking ready to flay the skin from Mammon’s hide, who caught his attention.

“You got a problem?”

“Just you, man,” Phego said, his growl solid and steady. A definite warning.

Mammon chose to ignore that fact. Instead, he grabbed the last chair and spun it around before straddling it. “So what’s the situation?”

Bez cocked his head in a very predatory sort of way, snarling something fierce. “Are those claw marks on your neck? Why didn’t you let us know you were in trouble? Deus. Your piece-of-shit watch-thing didn’t work.”

“Not possible,” Deus said, his voice coming from the phone leaning against the microwave on the counter. “My shit works. I show no record of a missed double-tap.”

As hard as he tried, Mammon just couldn’t hold back a satisfied grin at the thought of Charmeine’s marks on his body and his skills in the secret-agent department. How he’d kept track of the vibrations and tapping during that whole dry-hump-sixty-nine fiasco was beyond him. “I’m sure the wristband would have worked if I’d called for help.”

Thaus growled, apparently awake. “The rules were clear. You call for help if you ran into trouble of any kind.”

“No, I was to call for help if I had trouble with Finn or his guys. I had no trouble
with them
.” Mammon sighed, not wanting to get into the details but knowing he had a team to account to. “The scratches aren’t from fighting.”

The guys fell silent, considering, but then Bez, of all people, chuckled. “Well, you
are
mates.”

Mammon didn’t like that statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bez shrugged and smiled.
Smiled
. A shocking development, really, seeing as how Mammon couldn’t remember the man smiling in at least two hundred years. But there he sat, shorn head, pale eyes, and all…grinning like a motherfucker.

“When I was with Sariel at the safe house, I had an enemy team less than thirty minutes out, and I still couldn’t resist the mating pull.”

“Levi had Amy in the shower thirty minutes after killing that fucking shifter who kidnapped her.” Thaus finally opened his eyes, peering at Mammon. “We all heard that shit.”

Deus sighed loud enough to hear the sound through the phone. “I am so thankful for the internet right now.”

“Enough of this.” Phego waved a hand, indicating that conversation was over. “We can’t be so careless with time simply because of our desires. Even mates can be dangerous if they’re embedded in the wrong team. We should trust no one until we figure out what’s happening.”

Phego’s words slammed into Mammon in a way he hadn’t expected. He sounded so much like Charmeine, both with trust issues that ran deep enough to make them push away people who might be able to help them. Mammon understood Phego’s issues, having been close to the man for centuries at that point. But Charmeine… He was only beginning to see how much of a job earning her trust was going to be.

“Phego is right,” Deus said. “Trust no one, especially not a woman willing to have sex with Mammon. Have you seen him eat? He’s practically an animal.”

“Y’all are funny as shit, but I managed to eat without making a spectacle of myself tonight. So fuck off.” Mammon stood and headed for his bathroom at the back of the apartment, leaving his brothers to razz him behind his back. Before he could reach the door, though, his phone buzzed with a message from Charmeine.

I don’t think I’ll ever look at
Blubber
the same way again. You’ve ruined it for me.

Mammon couldn’t hold back his smile.

I’ve made it better. Imagine how wet you’ll be the next time you reach for that paperback.

Crass.

Honest. Go to bed, Char, before I ruin more of your favorite books.

Mammon pocketed the device and looked up, meeting the eyes of one pissed-off looking Phego. The shifter leaned against the opposite wall, legs crossed at the ankle.

“What’s up?” Mammon asked.

“She doesn’t trust you.”

Mammon bit back the
no shit
answer on the tip of his tongue. “She doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Until she does, you’re in danger every time you’re around her.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Mammon said, very nearly rolling his eyes.

“And I think you’re being careless. She won’t hesitate to sell your soul to the devil if she feels threatened in any way, and you’ll take us all down with you.” Phego dropped his voice. “I know people like her…I’ve
been
people like her. You won’t walk away from that fight.”

“Fine,” Mammon said with a growl, too tired to fight about it. “So how do I convince her she can trust me?”

“You don’t.”

“Well, you’re a helpful SOB.”

“You can’t convince someone to trust you, especially not someone with walls as high as hers are. You can only act in a way that builds trust slowly. That proves who you are.”

Mammon ran a hand over his face, his chest tightening as the words of his brother hit home. “I never thought I’d need to bend myself into a pretzel just to get my mate to like me.”

“Oh, I’m sure she likes you. Those claw marks are proof of that.”

“Being turned on by me and liking me are two different things.”

Phego shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But she trusted you enough in that moment to be alone with you, to let her guard down and share a physical intimacy.”

But it wasn’t…she’d made sure of it. “She said sex wasn’t intimate.”

The corner of Phego’s mouth twitched, a goddamned emotional outburst from the stoic shifter. “She’s a harder nut to crack than I thought. I’m almost impressed with the arrogance of that comment.”

“Gee, thanks.”

But Phego didn’t back down. “Deus gave us all the details he could find after you sent Thaus that bullshit text last night. You’re talking about a woman whose family was murdered in front of her, who’s been hunted for years by a group of sick fucks bent on destroying her. She’s not some broken damsel in distress. She’s a fucking warrior.”

Mammon sagged against the wall, staring at the floor. “You have no idea, man.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Phego’s growl deepened, his eyes sparking silver as he crept closer. “Charmeine Byrne is the most deadly thing you’ve ever run into because of your bond to her. You’ll protect her to your death and do anything she wants you to without question. It’s the pull of the mating, I get that, but you still need to let us, your brothers, know what’s going on so you don’t walk into some sort of ambush with these Hunters. Or a setup.”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“No? She’s already got you so wrapped up in her puss—”

The words ended in a hiss as Mammon grabbed Phego by the throat and yanked him off his feet. “Don’t. She’s my fucking mate, not just some chick hanging around. You mind your fucking mouth about her.”

Phego kicked, his claws digging deep into Mammon’s hands, but it was no use. Mammon wasn’t letting go until he’d made his point. His inner wolf wouldn’t let him. It took a few seconds, but Phego finally jerked a nod. Accepting. Surrendering.

With nothing more than a growl, Mammon dropped his brother and took a step back. His wolf settled once more, still ready to attack the man he saw as a brother if he opened his mouth again. Over Phego’s shoulder, Mammon could see Bez and Thaus watching everything. Not interrupting, not getting involved, just monitoring. The looks they wore made Mammon feel supported, not chastised. Something he hadn’t expected. But Phego had crossed a line, one Bez would probably agree on. Thaus, for all his toughness, had a major soft spot for any Omega, which meant he’d be pissed at Phego’s words as well. Phego could bawl the brothers out all he wanted, but never the Omegas. And sure as hell not Charmeine. She was Mammon’s mate, and he’d protect her to the end. Over his brothers.

Shit.

Mammon caught Bez’s eye, and the man nodded once. Understanding again. Matings changed things, adjusted loyalties and priorities. He hadn’t been ready for that. But he would be after tonight.

Phego rubbed his neck and growled low, giving Mammon space but not completely backing down. “Fine. You want her that bad? You need to deal with the fact that her trouble comes with her. Which means you’ve got us on your ass every minute of every day.”

“Fine,” Mammon growled. “I’ll play by the rules if it means we can get in the game. I want to take these Apex Hunters out, and I’ll need you guys to help me.” He stalked closer, forcing Phego up against the wall. “But don’t talk shit about my mate…ever.”

Phego didn’t reply at first. He stood and stared at Mammon, weighing his resolve, it seemed. But finally, he nodded. “Fine. My apologies for the earlier comment. It won’t happen again.”

That apology was more than Mammon could have asked for. “Good. Now, let’s plan. I don’t want to leave her safety, or that of her friends, to chance.”

“That’s why we’re here. I called in a mated Dire for a reason, too. Fucking mating haze distracting you from the job. It’s ridiculous.” With that, Phego pushed off the wall and headed back down the hall. Toward where the others still sat, watching, Bez looking almost proud. Yeah, he knew. Mammon had accepted Charmeine as his fated mate tonight. She was
his
, and no one was going to fuck with her ever again

“Take a piss, man,” Bez called, finally turning so as not to be staring down the hallway. “Then get back to the table. We’ve got fucking work to do if we’re going to figure out a plan Blaze will accept so we can get rid of these fucking parasites who call themselves Hunters.”