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He jerked a shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“Did she RSVP?”
“No. And she’s never been to one of the parties, so—” He broke off, eyes narrowing. “Has she?”
Patrick shrugged. “Think I saw her there last year, but I’m not sure. If you ever stuck around for your own party, you’d know who the guests are.”
“That’s what the RSVPs are for. Hardly my fault if people don’t respond as they should. Now are you in or not?”
Patrick cocked his head, still mulling what East was up to. In the old days, he would’ve simply hopped on his bike and followed him, but he couldn’t do that anymore. A smile twitched on his lips. At least not when he was hoping Nikki would show up and make his Halloween magical two years in a row.
“I’ll do it.”
“Perfect. You’re a lifesaver. Remember, it starts at seven.” East grinned broadly and clapped Patrick’s shoulder. Then he headed down the driveway, obviously figuring the conversation had ended.
“Hey, wait a second. I need a costume.”
East flashed him a grin as he slipped on his sunglasses. “All taken care of. Missy will give it to you when you arrive.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Just be glad Missy’s handling the decorations again and all you have to do is smile and look pretty.” With another grin, East climbed into his gleaming money rocket and sped off.
Patrick wiped the sweat off his forehead and headed toward the house. If it was another damn monk getup, East was going to be missing a nut for the holiday season.
Four
Nikki sipped punch in Easton’s plushly appointed living room, her back warm from the fireplace behind her, and glanced around to take everything in. The room was decked out in its Halloween best. Fake cobwebs dripped from the ceiling, fat pumpkins, usually accompanied by a broom-riding witch, cheered up the corners, and skulls with glowing purple eye sockets menaced from every table. Costumes ranged from the scary to the sublime, from tacky to traditional. Creatures of the night mingled with princesses and fairies, but she hadn’t seen one other Domme kitty.
Hiding a smirk, she swallowed more of the fruity, alcohol-laced punch. She felt strangely exposed in this outfit, though only the valley between her breasts and her toes and ankles were on display. Well, and all her curves. She couldn’t have hidden them in this stretchy bodysuit even if she’d wanted to.
Her jutting breasts had become weapons of mass destruction, thanks to the oodles of tape she’d used to get them into position. She considered the lack of a bra a mixed blessing. On the plus side, her nipples remained perpetually tight from the material whispering over them. On the minus side, her nipples remained perpetually tight. She’d gotten more than her share of ogling since she’d arrived twenty minutes ago, which had been kind of fun but also vaguely disconcerting. Random hookups weren’t her thing any longer, last year aside.
Yet she was here to sleep with Patrick. Who wasn’t random, and who wouldn’t be sleeping when their bodies did the bump and rub.
If he ever showed.
Supposedly he was around somewhere. Supposedly. She’d yet to see him or Easton, which didn’t really bother her. It kind of skeeved her out to look into her boss’s eyes and think of his brother’s cock pounding into her. Though she was willing to get used to the sensation if it meant she’d get another round with that cock. And that man.
She shivered and adjusted her kitty ears. The headband kept slipping on her unnaturally sleek hair. She’d straightened it for the occasion, and the black layers draped over her shoulders. Having straight hair made her feel like she really was in disguise. That tonight didn’t have to mean more than she let it. This party would be fun, just a rollicking good time.
Please, God, let it be a good time.
“Hey there, pretty kitty. Want to dance?”
She smiled at the pirate beside her. If she’d been here to meet someone new, he would’ve been a fine choice. His eyepatch made him look rakish and he had one hell of a chest. Which happened to be right at her eye level and—
“The lady’s with me.” The low growl sounded near her other ear and she whirled, caught between the two looming male bodies. Not entirely a bad place to be.
She looked up into the other man’s face, only able to discern dark, threatening eyes and the long jump of his nose under his dark red hood.
Another hood. Patrick.
Her blood thrummed and her skin heated as if she’d stepped backward into the fire.
“Am I?” she asked, flicking her tongue along the rim of her glass to catch the stray drops of punch.
Was this their little ritual now? Halloween hookups followed by a year of frustrated nights?
