Sated by Lucy Felthouse

had the impression that the man was far too possessive for his—and Irina’s—good. She’d met his type before and she had ways of dealing with them. Maybe she should sound Irina out, discover how upset she’d be if the man should suddenly disappear.
    She shook her head, dismissing the thought. One sniff of a lycan and all her baser instincts came to the surface. What she needed was a drink or two, and the chance to catch up on all Chrissie’s gossip. Even though she could barely remember a time when she’d been able to walk in the sunlight, she still craved stories of that other, unattainable world.
    She was just stepping into her dress when a knock sounded at the door. Expecting it to be Mick, who’d seen her in a state of undress more times than she cared to recall, she called out, “Come in!”
    When the cute blond stepped into the dressing room, she could only stare at him in open-mouthed astonishment.
    “Hi,” he said, seeming embarrassed at having caught her half naked even though he’d just seen her strip down to little more than pasties and a thong on stage. “I’m sorry to burst in on you like this, but I just had to see you. I—I told the guy outside that I was an old friend of yours from school.”
    Angelique wanted to burst out laughing. If only he knew that what education she’d received had been at the hands of a governess, in that little attic room of the family home in Paris. Poor dear Estelle—killed by the hands of the mob, like so many others whose crime had been simply to be in the employ of a wealthy family.
    “Is your friend with you?” she asked, turning her back on him as she zipped up her dress.
    “What, Lucas? No. He—he decided to go home. He thought I should do this on my own.”
    “Do what?” Angelique faced him, a little more secure now that she knew that brutish, undeniably sexy wolf wasn’t lurking in the corridor outside. Though being alone with this man presented its own challenges. Her pussy lips had plumped up, the thin crotch of her panties slipping into the crease between them, and she was all too aware that her nipples were now hard points, jutting against the cups of her bra.
    “Ask if you maybe wanted to come for a drink with me, or…” He ran a hand through his gelled fringe, causing it to stick up stiffly.
    The result, Angelique thought, was to make him look like a nervous ingenu, and even more endearing than he already did. “Or?” she purred.
    “God, that accent of yours. It does things to me.”
    Glancing down, she could see what he meant. The thick, curved outline of his cock was visible through his grey suit trousers. It was all she could do not to lick her lips. As a dancer, her rule had always been ‘look but don’t touch’, never letting any man get as close to her as he might want. But rules were made to be broken.
    “I’m sure you get told how fabulous your performance is all the time, Miss—Clair’s not your real name, is it?”
    “No, it’s not. You may call me Angelique.”
    He seemed about to stick out a hand for her to shake, then drew it back. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Angelique. I’m Tom. Tom Lawless.”
    The name seemed familiar, but she could not think where she had heard it before.
    “And I really did love your act,” he went on. “But I’ve taken up too much of your time already.” He took a couple of paces back, and took hold of the doorknob.
    “Don’t go, Tom. Please. You’re right. You’re not the first man who’s wanted to take me for a drink, or to praise me on my dancing. But you’re the first in a long time who I’ve actually had the desire to get to know better.”
    Tom’s face brightened, and he stopped trying to make his exit from the dressing room. “Wow, that’s great. So, I know this little bar just round the corner…”
    “Let’s skip the formalities. I have a bottle of very good Bordeaux at home, and a roof garden with a perfect view over the city. Why don’t you come back with