“Some do, some don’t. If this wasn’t your first time in a club, I would likely want to. I might choose something I know you’d feel sexy as fuck in, or I might choose something I know would put you on the edge of discomfort without crossing your boundaries.” My eyes trail down her body, imagining all the naughty possibilities, then rein my imagination in. “But tonight I want you comfortable. Pick some things out, try them on, and when you’ve made your choice, let me know.”

She claps her hands and lets out a tiny squeal of delight before making a bee line for the lingerie section. I wait leaning against a nearby wall as she starts to browse, my attention divided between watching her and thinking about all the things set into motion by my grandmother, Barwyn, and another elder fae I think may have been the one to plant the second clue according to a vision I had when I opened the parchment.

Moira must have spelled the clue to give me another piece of the puzzle, but I didn’t recognize the male. Maybe Barwyn knows who he is. I probably should’ve made arrangements to talk to him after receiving the letter, but I find it difficult to think clearly around Taryn.

Pulling out my phone, I open the text thread with the Woulfe twins, Connor and Conall. They’re wolf shifters, a specialty line within the Dark Fae. They’ve been best friends with my older brothers since they were young, as their father Seamus was our dad’s best friend and senior advisor. For the last several decades, Connor and Conall have been heads of the Night Watch.

Need someone to pay a visit to Barwyn tomorrow. Arrange time when I can meet him at the Manor then lmk. Important.

Taryn passes on her way to the dressing rooms, holding her selections away from me. “No peeking.”

I grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I like surprises.”

She disappears around the corner just as a text comes in from Connor.

copy that. bros sitch?

I scrub a hand over the stubble on my jaw as I contemplate my response. He’s asking if my brothers know about my request, and if not, whether he should tell them.

Not yet. I’ll bring everyone in after I have more info.

Connor gives my text a thumbs up and Conall follows it up with a meme of the teacher from South Park saying “Mmmkay” making me laugh. Not hard to tell which one is off duty tonight.

With that taken care of, I pocket my phone and enter one of the available dressing rooms. They’re fully enclosed with actual doors; no partitions with a foot of open space at the bottoms or thin curtains hanging from a rod. Each small room has a black tiled floor, red cushioned bench, and a full-length three-way mirror on the opposite wall. There are also mirrored tiles on the ceiling. The rooms often need thorough cleaning from the staff between uses, for obvious reasons.

I make quick work of changing out of my casual clothes and into a pair of leather pants I brought in my bag. It’s the only thing I wear in the club other than my black motorcycle boots. Anxious to see what Taryn chose, I wait outside her changing room door and fail at being patient.

“Taryn, you have five more minutes before I come in there to help you decide.”

“I’m ready,” she answers through the door. “Should I come out?”

“No, let me in.” When I hear the snick of the lock disengaging, I enter the room, then close and relock the door before turning around to see what she chose. “Jesus fuck.” My duffel hits the floor, and I have to clench my jaw so it doesn’t do the same.

She gives me a saucy grin and places her hands on her waist, popping her hip to the side. “You like?”

“I fucking like,” I grate out, the image of her stealing my breath.

She chose a bra and panty set that combines elegance with daring in the most exquisite fashion. Detailed floral embroidery adorns the sheer, blush pink fabric that makes her umber skin practically glow in contrast. The satin straps on the bralette and high-cut cheeky panties outline her every curve beautifully, and there’s a matching piece that wraps around her midriff, accentuating her waist. The final touches are a choker, thigh garters, and arm bands making her a vision of sensuality and deviance.

Taryn turns to face the mirror and adjusts one of the garters. I step closer, catching her intoxicating scent, something feminine and primal that’s uniquely her. The soft light in the dressing room highlights the swells and dips of her body, the delicate fabric clinging to her in all the right places.

I close the distance, my breath hot against her ear. “It’s taking all my restraint not to act on all the filthy things running through my mind right now.”

She shivers at my words, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. There’s a mix of excitement and apprehension in her gaze, and it drives me wild. I reach around her, my fingers skimming over the lace where her thighs meet. She gasps, her hands reaching back to hold on to my thighs.

“You look fucking exquisite in these,” I murmur, fighting my need to grind my cock against her ass. My fingers slip beneath the sheer triangle, finding her wet and wanting. I chuckle, a dark, deep sound. “Already burning so hot for me, my little sun,” I taunt, dragging my fingers through her slickness.

She moans, her hips pushing back against me, seeking more. But I’m not going to make it that easy. I tease her, my fingers brushing lightly over her clit, just enough to make her squirm and writhe. Her arousal is intoxicating, but I control myself, savoring every second of her need.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Not yet.” I pull my hand away and take a step back, letting her feel the absence of my touch. Watching her body tremble with unfulfilled desire is addictive. It makes me want to edge her for hours until she’s a glorious puddle of need and sweat. By the time I finally let her come, every cell in her body would implode from the sheer force of the pleasure tearing through her.

My balls draw up tight at the image, and I add that to the long list of fantasies I want to do in the very near future with Taryn Emory. But tonight will be just a taste.

“Touch yourself,” I command softly.

She arches a curious brow but obeys, her hand slipping between her legs, mimicking the motions I had started. Her eyes close, and a soft moan escapes her lips. It’s a beautiful sight, but I’m not done yet. I stay close, my presence a constant reminder of what she wants, what she needs, and what only I can give her.

I step in behind her again, my hand covering hers, guiding her movements. She gasps at the contact, her body arching against me. I whisper in her ear, my voice low and rough, “Feel good?”

“Yes,” she moans.

I nip the delicate point of her ear. “Yes, what? Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten how to properly address me in a scene, solnyshko. I wasn’t planning on paddling your ass tonight, but I’m always flexible.”

She drags her teeth over her lower lip, and I can almost see the mischievous idea of pushing back flitting through her mind. But sassy banter aside, my instincts tell me when it comes down to it, she’s not a bratty sub. She’s spent over half a millennium in leading roles and doling out orders. What she truly craves is being able to let someone else lead so she can follow.

“Yes, sire,” she purrs, infusing me with a warm satisfaction.

“Good girl,” I whisper, guiding her hand faster, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She’s close, so close I feel her body tensing, ready to tip over the edge. And just when she’s about to come, I pull her hand away, leaving her on the brink.

“No,” she cries out, her voice filled with frustration and need.

“Patience, solnyshko. You’ll get what you need.” I smirk at her reflection. “Eventually.”

She groans, her body shaking with unspent desire. I step back, giving her space to collect herself, knowing that the next time I touch her, it will be even more intense. After a few deep breaths, she faces me, composed if not a little tense.

Picking up the duffel, I hold out my other hand. “Come on. Let’s see how you do at the main event.”

EIGHTEENTARYN

My skin is still tingling, every nerve buzzing with frustration and desire as Finn leads me out of the dressing room. My breath is unsteady, my legs trembling from his relentless teasing. The new lingerie clings to my body, a reminder of all the places I wanted his hands and his mouth, but he didn’t allow me the release I so desperately crave.

Finn pays for the lingerie and the strappy heels I’m wearing, his smirk knowing and confident. His fingers brush against mine as he hands the cashier his card, sending another shiver down my spine. He seems perfectly composed, in stark contrast to my flushed and aroused state.

We move towards the back of the shop, Finn’s grip firm on my hand. The air changes, becoming heavier, more charged, as we approach two large werewolves guarding a nondescript door. Their eyes follow us, their presence a silent but potent warning. One of them, a massive figure with dark, piercing eyes, greets Finn with a respectful nod, his voice a deep rumble.

“Evening, Your Highness.”

“Evening, Bastien,” Finn replies, then hands over his membership card to the other werewolf. “Claude.”

Claude scans the card on a tablet before handing it back with a smile. “Good to see you again, Finn. Been a while.”

“Been busy with more important things,” he says, glancing down at me and taking my hand.

A warmth spreads in my chest at his obvious reference to me. Then Bastien opens the heavy door and steps aside to let us through. Finn’s hand tightens around mine, guiding me into a stairwell. The descent is long, each step echoing in the silence, heightening my anticipation.

We finally reach the bottom, and I blink in surprise to find what resembles an upscale office lobby, the transition from the sex shop to this elegant space jarring and surreal. The decor is modern and sleek, with plush couches and polished floors. I glance around, my curiosity piqued despite the lingering haze of arousal.