She
might be inexperienced where men were concerned, but something -- some aura of danger emanating from him -- warned her to keep her distance. Space between them was good.
“Why are you here?”
The man settled himself amidst the cushions, looking assured and at ease. Kaila realized the rarity of that. Most men found themselves uncomfortable surrounded by feminine
things, in a feminine atmosphere. This man looked in command. His eyes sparkled, the
expression in their crystalline depths one of assessment and humor. “You may recall the conversation you overheard between my companion and me…?”
“Pavel,” she said, voice tripping over the name. She cleared her throat. “You called him Pavel.”
His eyes lit up. Just as quickly, he banked the fires within them, his expression
returning to one of neutrality. “Actually, I called him many things, but yes, his name is Pavel Janecek -- a beloved friend as well as business associate. We were discussing our latest venture, Sated Pleasures.”
Sated Pleasures! The name, spoken in his gravelly tones, exploded on her senses.
Loaded with layer upon layer of sexual nuances, the name suggested so much. She forgot her bra-less state and sat forward, uncrossing her arms. Her fingers dug into the thick padded arm of her small sofa as arousal roared through her, igniting first in her frontal lobe and then sweeping through the rest of her body on a tidal wave of heat. Her nipples beaded.
One of the busiest designers in the ad firm she worked for, Kaila was considered adroit at turning a phrase, but knew she’d never have thought up something like this in a million years. Whoever had come up with the title was brilliant. She’d always been a quick study at nuances and could understand the implications in the title…could see the allusion to the deeper meaning.
Sated Pleasures! Oh yeah, it worked. In fact, in her case, maybe it worked too well. Her clit throbbed like a metronome, pounding with the beat of her excited pulse. Kaila licked her lips, swallowed hard. “Oh God,” she murmured, squeezing her thighs tightly together, trying to control her runaway body. The name, alone, had her creaming.
“Oh, my God…” she whispered, squirming on the cushion.
Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures
31
Orloffberg’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she heard him croon almost under his breath. “You
are quite perfect.” Sitting forward, he smiled at her, his pale gaze roving over her form, noting -- she was sure -- her stiff nipples and accelerated pulse. “Why, Ms. Morgan, you are so very responsive, aren’t you? So sensitive to suggestion…”
His purred words shocked her out of the incipient orgasm. She sat back, shrank into
the depths of her cushion-strewn loveseat. Feeling exposed and on display, she folded her arms protectively over her jutting nipples and gave her shorts a discreet tug before crossing her ankles. “Can we cut to the chase? Why are you here? What do you want with me, Mr.
Orloffberg?”
“First, I would love for you to call me Rickard, if you would. The title of ‘Mr.’ is not really correct, so we can do away with it.”
“I don’t know you and I don’t believe in being casual with someone I’m not acquainted with.”
Orloffberg’s lips tightened, his expressive gaze grew cold and hard as glacial ice. “In that case, correct etiquette dictates you address me as His Serene Highness, Prince Wagner Rupert Rickard Orloffberg or simply, Your Highness. Addressing a ruling head of state as
‘Mister’ is quite casual, wouldn’t you say?”
Kaila smothered a smile. Don’t like your commands being questioned, heh? Like I give
a rat’s ass.
She boldly locked gazes, meeting his eyes in the secure knowledge that, here in her
own home, she has as much claim to royalty as he…queen of her castle and all that.
“First of all, you’re not my Highness. Second, I saw your picture in Time magazine so I knew who you were, but since you
might be inexperienced where men were concerned, but something -- some aura of danger emanating from him -- warned her to keep her distance. Space between them was good.
“Why are you here?”
The man settled himself amidst the cushions, looking assured and at ease. Kaila realized the rarity of that. Most men found themselves uncomfortable surrounded by feminine
things, in a feminine atmosphere. This man looked in command. His eyes sparkled, the
expression in their crystalline depths one of assessment and humor. “You may recall the conversation you overheard between my companion and me…?”
“Pavel,” she said, voice tripping over the name. She cleared her throat. “You called him Pavel.”
His eyes lit up. Just as quickly, he banked the fires within them, his expression
returning to one of neutrality. “Actually, I called him many things, but yes, his name is Pavel Janecek -- a beloved friend as well as business associate. We were discussing our latest venture, Sated Pleasures.”
Sated Pleasures! The name, spoken in his gravelly tones, exploded on her senses.
Loaded with layer upon layer of sexual nuances, the name suggested so much. She forgot her bra-less state and sat forward, uncrossing her arms. Her fingers dug into the thick padded arm of her small sofa as arousal roared through her, igniting first in her frontal lobe and then sweeping through the rest of her body on a tidal wave of heat. Her nipples beaded.
One of the busiest designers in the ad firm she worked for, Kaila was considered adroit at turning a phrase, but knew she’d never have thought up something like this in a million years. Whoever had come up with the title was brilliant. She’d always been a quick study at nuances and could understand the implications in the title…could see the allusion to the deeper meaning.
Sated Pleasures! Oh yeah, it worked. In fact, in her case, maybe it worked too well. Her clit throbbed like a metronome, pounding with the beat of her excited pulse. Kaila licked her lips, swallowed hard. “Oh God,” she murmured, squeezing her thighs tightly together, trying to control her runaway body. The name, alone, had her creaming.
“Oh, my God…” she whispered, squirming on the cushion.
Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures
31
Orloffberg’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she heard him croon almost under his breath. “You
are quite perfect.” Sitting forward, he smiled at her, his pale gaze roving over her form, noting -- she was sure -- her stiff nipples and accelerated pulse. “Why, Ms. Morgan, you are so very responsive, aren’t you? So sensitive to suggestion…”
His purred words shocked her out of the incipient orgasm. She sat back, shrank into
the depths of her cushion-strewn loveseat. Feeling exposed and on display, she folded her arms protectively over her jutting nipples and gave her shorts a discreet tug before crossing her ankles. “Can we cut to the chase? Why are you here? What do you want with me, Mr.
Orloffberg?”
“First, I would love for you to call me Rickard, if you would. The title of ‘Mr.’ is not really correct, so we can do away with it.”
“I don’t know you and I don’t believe in being casual with someone I’m not acquainted with.”
Orloffberg’s lips tightened, his expressive gaze grew cold and hard as glacial ice. “In that case, correct etiquette dictates you address me as His Serene Highness, Prince Wagner Rupert Rickard Orloffberg or simply, Your Highness. Addressing a ruling head of state as
‘Mister’ is quite casual, wouldn’t you say?”
Kaila smothered a smile. Don’t like your commands being questioned, heh? Like I give
a rat’s ass.
She boldly locked gazes, meeting his eyes in the secure knowledge that, here in her
own home, she has as much claim to royalty as he…queen of her castle and all that.
“First of all, you’re not my Highness. Second, I saw your picture in Time magazine so I knew who you were, but since you
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