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to break in and be waiting for us when the club closes.”

Quake cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was a half-octave lower than normal. “Sure,” he rasped. “I’ll see you get home safe and sound.”

He carried her across the property, not letting her feet touch the ground until he was on the front stoop of the house. Bending, he lowered her to let her stand and open the door. “Before we go in, do you hear anything?” she whispered.

Quake went all quiet on her. Not that he was chatty before, but for a second, he seemed to become a gargoyle, a sentinel who’d spent centuries watching, listening, and protecting humankind from the forces of darkness.

“Your heartbeat,” he quipped. “And . . . water . . . falling . . . and . . . bubbles . . .”

“The pool and the hot tub out back,” she breathed, aware that her pulse was racing. He might hear, but she could smell, and the air was thick with his scent. “We use it to unwind.”

Dipping his chin, he met her gaze.

Rory stared back, mesmerized by his obsidian eyes. They were dark brown, almost as black as his hair.

“Do you want to try it?” she asked.

Raising one eyebrow, he tilted his head. “It?”

“Mm-hmm. The hot tub.”

“Oh, right.” The corners of his lips hitched in a smile. “If that’s what you want to do. If you think it’ll help.”

Rory was imagining exactly what could help. Something long, thick, and solid she could wrap her hand or mouth around. “Yes, it’s very relaxing,” she promised.

Checking the house, there was no sign of anyone. No jackal bikers waiting to surprise them. Leading him out into the enclosed backyard, she showed him their oasis in the desert.

Lush plants and trees encircled a long inground swimming pool built to look like an island cove with a rocky grotto and waterfall. A party-sized hot tub was built at one end. Beyond that was a garden filled with flowers and bordered by manicured grass and winding flagstone paths. Benches had been positioned for the women to enjoy the nature that surrounded them or to just bask in the sun.

“Wow,” Quake breathed out beside her.

Rory smiled. “The benefits of having a Fae for a boss. Belle connects with plant life. Her presence encourages them to thrive.”

“You could have some fun pool parties,” he pointed out, following her when she moved toward the edge of the water.

“Men aren’t allowed back here. Hey, can gargoyles swim, or do they sink like stone?” she joked.

Quake’s chuckle shimmied down her spine in the most delicious way. “If you invited us over for a pool party, you’d find out.”

She cast a sultry look that never failed to make men drool. Turning, she strutted for the hot tub, shedding clothes as she went, dropping a trail for him to follow. Stepping down into the water, she turned to face him, giving him an eyeful before sinking onto the submerged seat. Her hair hung low enough to wick up water. Later, she’d wash the chemicals out of it. Right now, she had a gargoyle to seduce.

He stood like a rock, unyielding, unmoving despite her earlier invitation. “Ooh,” she gushed. “The water feels so . . . good . . .” She edged over in front of a jet. “If I sit just right, I can get myself off. Of course, it’s easier if I have help.”

Reaching, she started playing with her breasts, flashing her tits at him, making his fists curl and his jaw clench as he struggled with indecision. “Come here,” she ordered, hoping like hell he’d obey. Not every man wanted to be topped from the bottom. Then again, she might have just earned a spanking in his dark, hooded eyes.

Quake growled. The sound echoed deep in her core and did strange things to her insides. Rory swore she felt the earth move.

The next thing she knew, she was coming.

“Christ!” she gasped, locked in the throes of unexpected pleasure. “What the hell was that?”

Quake smirked. “My true voice shakes things up. Makes things happen. Usually, I’m snapping someone out of it when they’re overwhelmed, feeling trapped, or lost in thought. That kind of thing. The thing is, my voice can pull someone out of whatever they’re mired in, but given the right circumstances, it can also push them over the edge . . .”

“Holy shit,” she breathed. No wonder Candy loved him as a john if he could make her come just from talking. Quake’s voice was as good as a sex toy. Holy. Fuck.

Quake took off his cut and reverently laid it on the back of a nearby lounge chair. He peeled off his T-shirt, baring a sculpted chest and eight-pack abs. Fishing his phone from his pocket, he shot off a text and shut it down, making certain they wouldn’t be interrupted. Sitting long enough to pull off his biker boots and socks, he stood in his sexy bare feet to undo his belt, open his fly, and take off his jeans.

He was commando beneath them. Maybe because that monster meat of his refused to be caged. It rose, thick and long and ramrod straight, with an opal of precum pearled in the tip.

Sauntering to the whirlpool, he lowered himself over the side and slipped into the water, settling across from her, one hand looped on the edge of the tub, the other visible beneath the surface, fisting his erection.

Rory watched him for a minute, moving only when it was clear he wasn’t going to do it. She glided through the water to stand between his wide-spread feet. Dropping to her knees, she batted his hand out of her way and started jacking him, taking his measure, and learning just what the hell she’d been missing.

Ten vein-roped inches as hard as stone and nearly as thick as her small wrist.

Wanting to surprise him as much as he had her, she took a breath, released it, and dove down, opening her mouth to

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