“Would you like anything else, or can I go take care of my other customers?”
Deryn waved her away and clenched the key card harder, the golden numbers standing in sharp relief against the empty polished surface. Just four digits, and Deryn could feel them burning the inside of her palm. 1326. As she flipped the plastic, a drawing of a tower with stars above it told her everything she needed to know.
Standingin front of room 1326 of the Astronomy Resort, Deryn felt her heartbeat in her ears. She was nervous. She was never nervous. Dozens and dozens of women. Hundreds of hotel rooms. Deryn Crowhart, celebrity pastry chef and occasional luxury brand model known for her debonair and suave ways and devil-may-care charm, did not do nervous. Deryn Crowhart,winner of several seasons ofBake Your Heart OutandBest of Bake Your Heart Out, quadruple winner ofBake Now, and frequent guest pastry chef onGood Morning USA, did not need to be nervous. Women, like sugar, like cream, were what she knew. Women, like fire, were what she loved and loved to handle. After all, Deryn Crowhart was a Fire Witch, and that alone made her irresistible to any and all.
So why were her palms sweating and her breathing shallow as she knocked on this door?
Deryn’s memory supplied the answer in the form of dark amber eyes filled with anger, loss, and embers. And the gasp that left her own lips upon seeing them, upon running headlong into that gaze. Upon feeling the burn of them.
She knew what she had seen. She knew what it meant. So why was she here playing with this particular fire instead of doing things the right way?
The door opened, and Deryn had to bite her lip to stop a second gasp from escaping. Skin, skin, skin… Nothing but naked skin and high red heels and freshly painted crimson lips, looking like they had just been licking blood. Deryn took a step, then another, kicked the door behind her, and got on her knees. There was only one way to properly answer this siren’s call, and it was to worship.
And Deryn did.
Deryn pushed the questions to the very back of her mind. Yes, she should not be here. She should not be playing these games. She should be confessing and submitting to Fate, but… But. But. But… There was no way to stop or turn back. There was only one thing to do. And it was to start.
And so Deryn started slowly. Not because that was her strategy, per se, but because she did not know where to begin. The expanse of skin, the long legs, those ridiculous four-inch red heels. Deryn wanted to do everything. All at once. And by thelook in those dark, smoldering eyes, the woman wanted Deryn to do exactly that. Everything. All at once.
Deryn began by placing a kiss on the inner thigh and then simply allowed her desire to take over. One kiss was followed by another, and then another, and in a moment, long, crimson-tipped fingers were diving into her hair, pulling her mouth higher, directing it where the woman clearly needed it the most…
But Deryn wasn’t ready. No, not yet. This feast would not end so soon. She nosed around the dark curls, licked the crease between thigh and hip, bit the jutting bone, then laved it with her tongue before deciding that it wasn’t enough and this spot needed something more, something to remember her by, something…like a blooming mark that was already forming under her attentive ministrations, spreading like paint, like ink under the soft, silky skin.
The woman gasped, moaned, and tried to push Deryn’s head downward.
“I thought… Mmm…” Another low moan as Deryn sucked harder on the hip bone. “I thought you pleased, Crowhart… Hurry…”
Deryn gave the now purplish spot one last lick before biting the tantalizing, trembling inner thigh to her left. The moan turned into a whimper. Almost pleading. Deryn knew that by the time their night was over, she’d be doing so much more. She’d be begging, loudly, uncaring about how she sounded, or who heard. The resort might be brand-new, but no wall was going to contain those screams. Deryn was just that good. And this woman? This woman would be her masterpiece, her best work yet.
“The night is young, ma’am… I want to take my time. And I want to take you.” Deryn slowly dragged a gentle finger between the now visibly wet lips, getting a reward of another whimper. “I want to take and take and take…” She looked up even as sheplaced the fingertip in her mouth, tongue curling around it. The dark eyes glazed over. Oh, what a delightful sight. “And… I want to give. Will you let me? Will you let me give you pleasure? Will you use me? I’m here to be used… By you.”
She ran two fingertips up and down the wet slit before slowly circling the clit, hard and waiting for her. Above her, the whimpers turned to whines. For a second, Deryn believed she could get used to those sounds, get used to craving them, to eliciting them… Then she pushed the thought away. It wasn’t the time. Not now. As her fingers worked, the grip on her hair tightened.
“I’m going to lick your pussy now. I’ll do it slowly, first the outer lips, then the tender pink inner ones, then I will suck on your clit. You’ll pull my hair and whisper for me to hurry again, to make you come…” The whine turned into a curse, and Deryn sped up her fingers, feeling the thigh shake in her other palm.
“As my tongue flicks your clit, my fingers will circle your opening, slowly, gently, but you’re so wet, it will be nothing at all for me to thrust into you, two fingers, then three… Will you take three, I wonder?” She could have sworn that got her a muttered “Fuck” and a nod. Deryn kissed the skin next to her fingers; the thigh quivered harder.
“And then as I slide in and out of your tight cunt?—”
“Oh god! Fuck me!”
That word must’ve done it, as the hands in her hair tightened almost painfully before her face was unceremoniously shoved into the wet and the soft and the salty sweet, and Deryn smirked against the tender flesh. And then she went to work, exactly as she’d described. She had promised to please, after all. And she did please. Four imparted orgasms later, as she drifted off to sleep, Deryn knew the smirk wouldn’t leave her lips, nor would the taste of this woman.
3
PALOMA, POLAR BEARS/GOLDEN RETRIEVERS & HAREBRAINED PLANS (OF SAID BEARS/PUPPIES)
BATTLE FOR THE TOWN HALL HEATS UP!
John Moss, the owner of the Crow’s Nest Country Club, has entered the mayoral race. The former supporter of disgraced mayor Jed Fowler has replaced his longtime friend on the ticket. Will the rich and handsome son of Crow’s Nest’s powerful Moss family prevail against the current frontrunner, island newcomer Paloma Allende?
In other news, it looks like happy-go-lucky Deryn Crowhart, beloved celebrity pastry chef, is back on Dragons. With the Old Atelier—or, as it almost became known, Crow & Cat—burning to the ground and the family needing more support than ever, will the gorgeous and youngest sister stick around for a while?
Watch this space and watch Deryn Crowhart swagger all over town to the immense pleasure of the swooning and autograph-demanding crowds.
—Crow’s Caw.
“What crowds?It’s November in Crow’s Nest. There are no crowds.”
