Bonus Content – Beast Charming

Mr. George Gregg, Private Office, Well After Midnight

The sound of the grandfather clock chiming in the hallway outside his office alerted George to the lateness of the hour. He worked too much. It was true. Always had. Work had been a better mistress than any of his wives, including Jacqueline, who had packed her bags and left within days of his daughter, Abby’s, disappearance.

He’d had no idea where she had gone until he’d received the payment sent to him from the Interstellar Brides Program. Fucking insanity.

His own daughter had abandoned him. Left Earth and all the creature comforts he had given her, and for what?

True love? That didn’t exist. He’d looked for more than sixty years.

For a so-called “perfect match”? With an alien? Chosen for the eager bride by a fucking computer algorithm?

It was fucking bullshit, all of it, the aliens brainwashing vulnerable and desperate human women into accepting animals as mates. Creatures. Monsters. Fucking aliens. Everything they did or said was a lie meant to control humanity, and he was going to prove it if it was his last act on this Earth.

Adding insult to injury, his wife had filed for a quickie divorce and was waiting for the final approval before she, too, intended to be matched to an alien and leave Earth behind. So fucking be it. He’d been alone most of his life. Knew how to handle the long hours and empty bed.

A cold draft moved over the floor, a sensation he only felt when someone opened the door. No one was up and about at this hour, not even his butler.

“Mr. Gregg, I presume.”

George’s head snapped up, and he gaped at the creature standing in front of his desk. Her hair was silver—not blonde, not platinum, silver. Her eyes were a shade of teal he’d never seen on a human. Her clothing looked like she’d stepped straight out of a BDSM superstore or modeled for a leather and chains magazine. The skin he could see was covered in tattoos. If that wasn’t enough, the fangs he saw when she opened her mouth to taunt him made his heart race so fast—was this excitement, he wondered…or terror?—that he was grateful he spent at least an hour in the gym every day.

This female was enough to give any man a fucking heart attack.

“Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?”

“I heard about you from a friend.” She ran the long tail of her small whip through one hand and watched him, her gaze cold and calculating. Demanding. Unforgiving. “I decided someone needed to come teach you a lesson.”

“What?” George shifted to rise up out of his chair. He was not a small man, nor was he unfit. He was not in his thirties anymore, but he was still fast. Strong. Stronger than a woman.

With a snap that sounded like a crack of thunder inside his office, a whip landed on top of his desk.

“I didn’t say you could stand before me, now did I?”

Fuck. She cracked the whip again, and a jolt of lust went straight from his ears, down his spine, to lodge in his cock. He hadn’t been this hard for a woman in years.

The mysterious stranger—alien, because fuck all that was holy, he knew an alien when he saw one—walked around his desk and ran the business end of her whip over his shoulder and wrapped it around his neck. She did not appear to be young and innocent, his usual choice in women. No, she was experienced. Confident. Dangerous. He did not move. Didn’t dare. Because once she got close, he realized she was actually taller than he was. Sexy as fuck with tits and thighs he wanted to get his hands on. But not small. Nothing about her was fragile. Or weak.

Her size wasn’t what held him in place. No, it was the fangs. And the hardness of his traitorous cock.

His visitor leaned over his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “You’ve been a very bad boy, George. Very, very bad.”

Her husky laughter made his pulse leap. Pre-cum leaked from the tip of his cock. No one dared speak to him this way. No one opposed him. Ever. So why was he on the razor’s edge of an orgasm? “What do you want?”

“I want you to call me Mistress.” She leaned closer and grazed the skin on the side of his neck with her fangs. “Once I have given you permission to speak. You need to learn respect.”

She slipped around to stand between him and his desk before settling her ass on top of the report he’d been reading. She reached down between her legs and opened a flap of some kind to reveal a wet, juicy pussy.

Using the whip, she pulled him forward and held him with his mouth over her wet heat. The scent of her made him dizzy. Desperate. But he didn’t give in. Didn’t reach out with his tongue and taste.

Because she hadn’t told him to. He wanted to wait for her order.

For permission.

Holy. Fuck. What kind of crazy ass psychology was this? Did he care?

“You will suck on my clit now, George. You will fuck me with your tongue and lick and suck my clit until I come all over your face. Do you understand?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she chose that moment to tug on the whip still wrapped around his neck and position his mouth to lock onto her pussy. His cock bulged to the point of pain. He opened his mouth. Devoured her.

She tasted like sex. Like heat. Like a woman eager for his cock. And he had no idea who she was. What she was.

Fucking perfect.

Yes.