Kelly Lucille: Keeping Her

“Nice tattoo.”

He glanced over and met the twinkling green eyes of the woman beside him at the bar. A busty little red head as out of place in the present meat market as he was. However, where he would be more at home in a down and dirty biker bar, she should be at a church social.

At the most five foot four, a good foot and a half shorter than him in her short healed boots. Her loose jeans gaped a bit at the waist and curved along her rounded hips without cutting off any circulation. Loose fit all the way down the legs, her only concession to a night on the town appeared to be a black and grey bustier clinging to her curves. She wore it above a white button down top. The cleavage peaking through the top opened buttons was impressive, but modest by club standards. Her hair glowed thick and shiny in one of those chopstick numbers. Between her clear green eyes, soft mouth and soft red hair he was hard pressed to pick out his favorite feature, well maybe not so hard.

“Nice tits.” He said, taking a swig from his long neck, expecting her to get huffy and turn away. A sex kitten she was not, though she had the soft rounded shape for it. Clearly slumming, as soon as she got a good glimpse of him she’d run.

She peered down at her D size breasts and let out a sigh. “I don’t know,” She met his eyes again, hers still holding a teasing glimmer. “You don’t think they’re too small?”

He choked on his beer. She laughed and his two buddies caught the clear honest sound and leaned back in their stools to get a good eyeball, either because someone was laughing at him, or because the laugh was sexy as all hell. He stood up from the stool and turned to face her head on. One good look should scare her away before he grew any more interested. It had the added bonus of blocking her from the sight of his friends. As neck deep in ass as they usually were, he had no interest in adding this particular woman to their fan club. He could handle scaring off the little bit, but in no way, shape or form, did he want her moving over to those players.

Why he needed to protect a woman he met at a bar about a minute ago he didn't question.

“You only need a handful.” He said, presenting his hands. As big as he was tall, and proportionately sized everywhere, his hands were the size of dinner plates. She compared them to her impressive breasts and laughed. Her eyes lit, she studied his face, getting a full view for the first time. The scar covering his right cheek was not the scar of a romance novel hero. Not on his homely face. It puckered and twisted from his jaw up to the hairline shaved to a precise buzz.

She examined hard lips that rarely smiled and the howling wolf tattoo on the left side of his thick neck. Between his gargantuan size, the scar, and the tattoo, most people, men and women, got a deer in the head lights stare and left his presence stammering out a good excuse. She considered him from head to toe and back again, which took a while. He was a harsh seven-foot warrior of solid muscle. He looked like he should carry a bloody sword in his hands. These days the weapons were more high tech, but the gist was the same.

She shook her head with a serious air, “I get it. One day you looked in the mirror and realized you needed a touch of danger in your looks. Eureka, a tattoo! Of course! It would give you the little extra edge of danger you were missing.” She appeared serious but her eyes were laughing expecting him to share the joke.

Used to a certain reaction from women, he had no idea how to deal with her teasing. He heard Ben, close behind him, laughing his fool head off. She smiled again, leaning to the side, trying to see the source of the laugh. He leaned as well, growling at the thought of her seeing Ben, who had the unfortunate code name of Romeo for good reason. She straightened her expression questioning, but he had her full attention and he planned to keep it.

“What’s your name?”

“Clytie.”

“Kite-y?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Cly-tie, it’s from Greek mythology... Never mind,” she waved that away, as if she had given the same explanation too many times to count.

“Demon.” He said.

“Excuse me?” Now she appeared confused and Demon was bemused to note that when her forehead scrunched he wanted to run his lips across it. Of course, when she laughed he wanted to kiss her and when she spoke in that smooth as cream voice… O.K. so he wanted her, no way was it going to happen. He liked down and dirty sex, the harder the better and as frequently as possible. She looked like she woke up every morning to birds braiding her hair as they sang happy songs. Fuck.

“My name is Demon.”

“Wow, and I thought my name was bad.” She laughed again, then something caught her attention behind his back. Demon glanced back to find Ben giving her a come-hither gaze and flashing a toothpaste ad smile. Demon glared, thinking fondly of grinding bones into dust when he sensed movement and turned.

Reacting to a possible threat, he almost knocked Clytie on her delectable ass just for trying to jump off her stool. Thankfully, he caught her just as fast, sparing her the fall. Her softness gave all along his hard length. He growled, and her eyes snapped up to his. She finally seemed nervous, but that could be the massive erection poking her soft belly like a steel rod.

The growling probably wasn't helping either.

It was her lips, he thought, his eyes locking on to target, definitely his favorite. He leaned down wondering if she would taste as good as she smelled. Like goddamn fresh baked cookies. The wolf inside him stood up to take notice.

He stopped his forward progress trying to remember she wasn't his type. She cleared her throat, her lips pursing with the act. A little pink tongue darted out and whipped moisture across her bottom lip. Any blood he had left in his brain promptly headed for his dick.

“Uh, Demon.” She said her breath coming faster and her eyes wide. “You can let me go now.” He felt his brain attempting to click back into gear. He let go, knowing if Ben turned on the charm, he had no chance, and for once the thought bothered him. Bothered him so much he seriously contemplated mayhem when she managed to slip out of his arms.

Ben grabbed her hand pulling her around Demon into the space between them. Demon’s wolf came so close to the surface he could feel the brush of fur just beneath his skin. Neither of them liked the cat touching their female. Demon turned and glared wolf gold over Clyties head. The heat of that stare should have been enough to incinerate Ben on the spot.

“Don’t let Demon scare you away.” Ben said, teeth flashing. At 6’1”, he had piercing blue eyes and the golden toned body of the jungle cat he held inside him. Of course, he might not look so good without teeth. Something to think about.

Ben smiled down at the little red head. Short and plump, pretty but a little too Suzie homemaker, he wouldn't have noticed her except she had the sexiest laugh he’d ever heard. It was pure sex and she’d been sharing it with Demon, which meant she was unusual enough to merit his time. Demon growled again, his wolf trying to warn the other male away. It just plain tickled Ben’s funny bone. It was rare anything got to Demon. He upped the wattage of his smile. “I’m Ben.” He said, squeezing her hand. She smiled a little, removing her hand from his.

“Hello.”

A throat cleared behind Ben so he waved his hand over his shoulder and said dismissively “That's Mac.” He smiled again, flashing a dimple as he took a leisurely but thorough study.

Clytie laughed at his audacity then something caught her eye from across the room. She glanced over her shoulder at Demon standing close behind her, glaring at Ben with murder in his eyes. “Nice to meet you both.” She leaned around Ben to smile at Mac “all of you really.” She turned back to Demon; the dimple peaking out matched the wicked gleam popping up in her green eyes. “Now remember Demon, repeat the mantra. ‘I am dangerous, I am tough. I have a scarey tattoo on my neck.’ In no time at all everyone will believe it.”