Mate by the Music
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Mate by the Music
Copyright © 2012 by Rebecca Royce
ISBN: 978-1-61333-259-7
Cover art by Fiona Jayde
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
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Other Stories in the Shifters & Bikers Series
Unwanted Mate
Bar Mate
Out of Place Mate
Also by Rebecca Royce
Another Chance
Behind the Scenes
Driven
Embraced
Eye Contact
I’ll Be Mated for Christmas
A 1Night Stand Story
One Night With a Wolf
A 1Night Stand Story
Mate by the Music
Shifters & Bikers Book 3
The Edge
By
Rebecca Royce
Mate by the Music
Scott Quaid pushed his bike hard through the night. The hard rain and wind slammed into his helmet visor with a splattering sound that might have bothered a man on less of a mission than the one he found himself on. He’d taken a foolish risk riding on a damp night. If he couldn’t fuck, he rode, which meant he’d been riding his bike a lot more than driving his car lately.
Oil coated the road. Since the desert got so little rain, when the moisture did fall, the pavement was particularly sleek. He couldn’t let his current aggression get himself or anyone else killed.
Even knowing all of that, he barreled into Gunther’s Bar like the devil himself chased him on two wheels. After quickly unhooking his helmet, he yanked it from his head, shaking the sweat off his hair. Someone inside that bar knew what happened to Stark, and they’d better tell him where his baby brother had gone or they’d live to regret not speaking.
He shot up the steps leading to the bar and slammed the wooden door open, welcoming anyone to object to his actions. A good fight might make him feel better. Well, a good fight or a good fuck.
However, Gunther’s didn’t present much of a threat, seeing as it had no patrons inside. Not one person sat in any of the booths, none lined the bar casually sipping a beer, nobody danced under the small disco ball. He blinked and glanced at his watch. Eight o’clock on a Thursday and Gunther’s was deserted?
What the hell
?
Music from across the room caught his attention. Two steps further inside and his mouth dried completely. A lone woman stood behind the bar. He’d missed her when he’d entered because of her height. If he had to guess, he’d say she barely made it over five feet tall, just high enough that he got a good view of her.
Her hair appeared light brown, like the color of the sand outside in the desert. He walked closer to get a better look. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean, a location he preferred to where he currently stood. A pert and slightly upturned nose lay between cheekbones that would have jealous Hollywood starlets run and complain to their plastic surgeons. All of that in addition to the fullest red lips he’d ever seen.
She regarded him silently, her tongue running over her mouth. His cock jumped in his pants.
Holy Shit
.
He wanted her.
“You’re going to be a problem. Aren’t you?”
Her accent sounded British, but not upper crust and stuffy. No, the little woman spoke like she’d stepped right out the back alleys of London and had no problem with that whatsoever. Her eyes dared him to argue.
He didn’t intend to. “I’m searching for my brother.”
She gazed right and left. “Doesn’t seem to be here. Sorry.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
“I’m Nancy Elwood.” She stepped out from behind the bar.
“Nancy.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to repeat her name. Maybe because, for some weird reason, it felt good on his tongue.
Like her pussy would
. He blinked at the thought.
Wow. How long has it been since I’ve gone to bed with a woman
? Weeks earlier. Not fabulous either. But not long enough to warrant such juvenile inner dialogue.
“I’m Scott Quaid.”
The bartender walked past him to an old-fashioned jukebox. She studied it for a moment, giving him a glance of her fine ass. After a second, she tuned it to a song he didn’t recognize. Something country-western, but with a club beat. He hadn’t known such music existed.
I need to get out more
.
She approached until she stood directly below him. With his six feet of height, she stared up from a long way down. After a quick raise of her eyebrow, she grinned.
“You’re tall. Are you big everywhere?”
“Are you small everywhere? I like to explore tiny places.” All right. That seemed pretty fucking random.
She licked her lips and threw her apron on the ground.
His mouth dried again. “I’m trying to find my brother. He’s missing. Hasn’t turned up for work in a week. The last night I spoke to him, he planned on going here.”
“Maybe he took a vacation. I hear it’s good for the soul.”
She had a tight body with an ass he wanted to squeeze, but the sound of her voice alone made his cock so fucking tight, it might explode from staring at her. His mouth watered. She’d become his favorite sexual fantasy in a matter of seconds.
She dropped to her knees in front of him and before he could ask her what the hell was going on, she’d taken the zipper of his leather pants in her teeth. “Hmm.” The sexy sound was loud enough to be heard over the music, but quiet enough to give the impression of a husky whisper. “I love the scent of used leather and I love the way you smell through it.”
“What?”
Does she really intend to blow me right there in the middle of the bar
?
She tugged his pants until they bunched around his ankles. “I think you need to relax. Then we can talk.”
“Here?” His voice squeaked. “Anyone could walk in.”
“Not much call for a biker bar in the rain. You’re my only customer tonight. Gunther’s going to be pissed at the wasted night, and I don’t much care for my tips either. I’m only filling in tonight because our regular girl has gone and gotten herself hitched. Guess it’s your lucky day.” She swung her brown hair over her shoulders and stroked his cock. “Or I could stop, if you’d prefer.”
He would
not
prefer. He glanced at the door then back down at Nancy on her knees.
I could run to the door and lock it
.
Like she’d read his mind, she spoke, “If you go anywhere, the offer expires.” Her blue eyes twinkled.
So, the lady liked to play dangerously, did she?
All right. Why not
? “I’d have to be a jackass to turn this down.”
“Then don’t be one.”
She yanked on his briefs and his cock jumped free. He inhaled a deep breath. It had to be the most surreal moment of his entire life. He’d come in a fury to the bar to locate Stark, who had gone missing, and now here Scott stood, pant-less, in the middle of the dance floor, getting ready to have his dick sucked. His life had never been more odd…or exciting.
Nancy licked the top of his cock, and metal brushed his skin. S
he has a pierced tongue
! He groaned.
“You’re large.” She licked her lips again like she’d done behind the bar. “I love big.”
“Um. That’s good.” There was no forming a coherent sentence without sounding like a dumbass.
He didn’t have to because Nancy didn’t hold back. Her hot mouth opened and she took him deep in her throat. He’d had his share of his blowjobs over the years, but none like that. She seemed to enjoy it as much as he did, not acting as though she wished to be three seconds away from wanting to be done with the experience as the women in his past had.
She moaned and swirled her tongue over him. Again, the metal ring startled him. The combination of everything the little woman was doing deserved to be outlawed.
He closed his eyes, forgetting all about the unlocked door, wishing the moment would never end. She gave him head, her moans loud enough to be heard over the music. Over and over, she thrust and licked until his cock threatened to explode. Time had no meaning—he might have stood minutes, hours, or days. His orgasm plowed through him, his balls rock hard. She licked every drop of him.
Letting go, she scooted backward, staring up at him with heat in her eyes. His knees nearly buckled and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to stay upright.
God
. In her post-coital glow, Nancy defined beauty. With her hair slightly messy, she appeared younger, less hard than she had earlier. Maybe vulnerable would be the right word. The need to kiss her pushed him to tug her upward.
He bent over, their lips inches apart. Eventually she shoved her palm over his mouth.
“No. Not yet, motorcycle man. You’ve not yet earned the right to kiss me.”
“Really?” His blood surged with the challenge. “How do I earn it?”
“I don’t know.” She pouted and danced away, her hips swaying to the beat of the music. “I haven’t decided yet.”
The farther she went, the more he wanted her back in front of him. If she wouldn’t let him kiss her, he could do other things. He tugged up his briefs and his pants, left them unzipped and stepped forward, transfixed.
She’d returned to the juke box, her body pulsing each time the song hit the down beat. Her hands explored, touching her hips, arms, finally lying on her breasts. She danced like a woman who all but considered herself alone, comfortable in her own skin, unafraid of her sexuality.
He needed to shake that last bit from her consciousness. Putting her lips on his cock had done something strange to him—branded him in some way he couldn’t have anticipated.
Walking up behind her, he grasped her hips.
“Are you going to dance with me?” Her voice roamed like silk over his senses.
“I could bring you tremendous pleasure.” He pressed his rising cock against her ass.
Her back still to him, she shrugged. “Right now I’m dancing.”
He turned her in his arms and forced her to look at him. “I can fuck you like no one has, beautiful.”
“Promises, promises.”
The words were true, but why? Maybe it had to do with the way she’d distanced herself before he could touch her, pay her back for the incredible gift she had bestowed on him minutes earlier. Her tone said it all. Nancy expected to be disappointed and she backed away before he could give her pleasure.
He stared into her blue eyes and for a second, saw something he’d never expected: an animal lurked under the surface of her calm veneer. Her gaze altered, changing her pupils for just enough time that he saw that animal. And that could only mean one thing.
“What kind of shifter are you?” He ran his fingers over her face, loving the feel of her soft skin beneath his touch.
She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side. “A wolf. Just like the shifter your brother married yesterday.”
He sucked in a breath. “So you do know him.”
It eased him to know Stark hadn’t been hurt—even if he’d wring his younger brother’s neck for having put the family through a scare and abandoning them at work for a week.
“You smell similar. Families have a…compatible taste to my senses. He comes in when Yvette works. Like I said, they were hitched yesterday, which is why I’m here tonight.”
Stark married and without a word to Scott or Sean. “Why do you suppose he didn’t let us know?”
“He’s in that place where shifters go when they mate. All they can do is mate and love. All they can handle is each other. Yvette couldn’t get through her shifts here without Stark bending her over a table in the back room.”
That kind of aggression didn’t sound like his Zen-filled little brother. Scott’s mind whirled. “Stark isn’t a shifter.”
“He might as well be now.” Nancy ran her tongue over her lips again and he almost groaned aloud.
How could one woman—shifter or not—make me so fucking hard
? “Your brother is shifter-friendly. Are you?”
