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A smile touched his thin mouth. "I think it'd be a bit obvious if someone was up there simply to read lips."
True. The Rocker wasn't like the Blue Moon. The dancing on this level was actual dancing, not the wolf kind, simply because the Rocker had a wall of windows that looked out onto the main street. And while werewolves didn't mind doing it in public, humankind sure did get upset about seeing it.
Nor did it have private rooms. Here at the Rocker, the choice on the upper floor was a communal one, the options as simple as beds, sofas, or beanbags. "I thought you said your followers had given up watching you here?"
"As far as I know, they have. But I'm not taking chances."
Nor would I. Liander's improvements might be worth keeping for a while yet. I took a long swig of my beer, then said, "Shall we get down to business?"
His eyes glimmered with amusement and hunger. "Eager to please, huh?"
"Oh, dying for it."
"The end result will be worth it - for both of us."
I surely hoped so. "There's no guarantee I'll get pregnant. If you've read my files, you'll know that."
He pressed a hand against my spine as he guided me toward the back stairs. Desire stirred sluggishly. Misha wasn't my choice of partner any more, and he certainly didn't deserve any eagerness, but he was the one I had to be with. That being the case, I might as well enjoy my time with him.
"You're not the only wolf I'm trying to impregnate right now," he said, as we climbed the stairs. "I have two other women who have agreed to bear my child."
It was the first statement he'd made that I truly believed. The first statement that actually had me thinking he was telling the truth - at least some of the time. "The blondes you mentioned earlier?"
He nodded.
"I bet they're doing it for a tidy sum."
He glanced at me, eyes cold. "Everyone has their price, Riley."
He knew mine. Knew it was the only reason I was here. And he didn't care. What would he do if he knew he would never get the one thing he really wanted? Not from me, anyway.
The upstairs room was long and narrow, and looked like one of those old-fashioned barns often seen in westerns. The only thing that was missing was the hay - though I knew that had been here in the early years.
The room was semi-filled with wolves in various stages of mating, and the air was thick with the smell of sex and lust. My blood quickened, aroused by the aromas as much as the sounds and sights of mating.
Misha's hunger flicked around me, a living thing that stole my breath and made the ache even fiercer. His aura, switched to full intensity, drowned me in desire, making sure my body would be ready for him when the time came. Not that he really needed to do it, because after Quinn's kiss and subsequent departure, I was more than ready to play.
And though I could have negated the force of his aura easily enough, I didn't. It was better to let him think I needed his aura, that I was still unwilling to be here. Besides, tonight might be about getting answers, but I sure as hell intended to enjoy it as well.
By the time we reached the first free sofa midway down the room, my skin burned, as did the need to feel him inside. Not waiting for him to make the first move, I pushed him. back against the wall and kissed him like my life depended on it. Kissed him until my skin burned and the need to feel him inside was all-consuming. And then I fucked him, hard and fast and furiously. He growled deep in his throat, a warning of God knows what, but I ignored it, riding him hard. As his body convulsed and his seed poured into me, my orgasm hit. The intensity of it stole my breath and my sanity for too many seconds.
But it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.
He was still hard inside, but that wasn't really surprising. The need to create life was on him, and the moon that forced the change each month granted us the strength to mate long and frequently, especially when the need to reproduce was on us.
"My turn to ride rough," he growled, his eyes burning with desire and anger.
I'd hit a nerve. Misha hated being second. Hated not being in charge. Interesting. Maybe it was something I could use later on, when we were somewhere security wasn't likely to intervene should things get a little rough.
He spun me around, pressed me against the back of the sofa, then kicked my legs apart and thrust into me so hard and fast I wasn't sure whether my groan was one of pleasure or pain. Then he began to move, and I let thought slide away, concentrating on sensation and simply enjoying.
That was the pattern for the next two hours - we mated on the sofa, the bed, and the beanbags. The first hour was as hard and furious as I'd expected, but after that, he took more time, seducing rather than simply taking. I appreciated the effort, and in the end, thoroughly enjoyed myself. I'd always liked Misha, and I guess I still did - even if I no longer trusted him. And whatever else his faults, he was usually a good lover.
It was close to three when we ordered a couple of beers, then made our way over toward a secluded corner. Misha flicked on the voice screen as I flopped back into a beanbag.
"Give me your feet," he said.
I raised them both and plonked them in his lap. He studied the underside of both for a moment, then grunted and dropped my right foot back to the floor. He bent my left leg around so I could see my foot, and pointed to the slight spot of discoloration right in the middle. "See that?"
