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[Dean Samuel Fletcher]

Fletcher wasn't a classy guy. He didn't go through all kinds of hell to please someone. If anything, it was the other person who should go through hell to please him. His word was rule of law, and if he didn't like something, then he got rid of something. This of course had been going under the Cashel's noses's, and they've been none the wiser. He had too many, perhaps thousands, of years to quickly think up a plot.

Being the not classy guy he was gave him no qualms about bringing Bridget down here to get his way with the willing slave. He looked around first, heightened senses alert for the wine keeper, but when he found no sign of her in the air or sight, he coaxed the pleasure slave in his hand further into the room. His body was already over-heated from waiting and the wanton in his gut only enhanced it. She felt so small in his grip, and he wanted her. Wanted her now, despite the scent of her minute resistance.

The werewolf turned to the slave, his white teeth on roam, bright white in contrast to the pigment of his features. A cross-breed of smirk and snarl. He encouraged her back against a rack of wine, a nimble hand raising to cup the side of her cheek, fingers scathing her neck. Whatever she was wearing was intoxicating, ensnaring his sense of smell into a frenzy. It mis-wired his brain and made him just want her more. His other spare hand went to her waist, surfing up slowly to feel the curves that defined her body, before joining a mock of the other hand, cupping the opposite cheek.

He was prohibited from pleasure slaves, since they were for the residents and all. But he was an age old wolf, with the hunger and sex-drive of a succubus. It would take more than someone's word and firm voice to stop him.

He seduced her mouth into a kiss, only giving a moment to her to gather a tolerance. The sneak peek of what was behind her lips was just as sweet as she smelled, and he wondered if the cavern of her mouth was even better. He pressed his taller frame closer, letting their bodies resemble a stitched together blanket. No air could reside between the mold of them, their kiss not giving a spare of it, either.

He pulled away, just to ask the question he wouldn't care if answered or not.

"Still want this?"

[Bridget Bailey]

Bridget was a slave, a pleasure slave. That was her station in life. No matter that she came from a future time or that she was highly educated, she had been slotted into that particular slot. Not that she minded it too much, but still someone who grew up with women’s rights and prostitution being illegal and morally wrong, it was still a stretch to do what she did everyday for anyone who requested her, and she was requested a lot. The one thing that was pretty frowned upon was having sex with the staff of Cashel Castle. She was reserved strictly for the guests, well it seemed that she ignored that rule often enough. It was her defiance and yes she had the wild streak about her, how else could you explain her even being in Cashel?

When Fletcher had called upon her that day, while she was walking around that castle and drug her down to the wine cellar, she had every right to pull away, but she didn’t. The resident werewolf fascinated her. They argued like cats and dogs, but oddly enough the never stayed made at each other. They would end their arguments in various, and some would say curious ways.

He literally pulled her further into the cellar, and Bridget could smell the wood of the racks that the wine was stored on, she also smelled the wine. The bitter, ripe, slightly fruity smell and oddly enough her heart beat quickened. She was a little hesitant at first, but the second he moved her so that she was up against he wall all that went out of the window, and all she wanted was Fletcher to touch her, to take his rough hands and run them over her pale skin.

His hands roamed her body and rested on her cheeks. His mouth contacted with hers and she could feel herself spinning in her head. His taste was intoxicating. It was heavenly, dark, and all together dangerous. "Still want this?" He parted from their mold to ask the question that surprised her. He always asked. Always. The answer, she knew wouldn’t matter. The words came out with a bit of a hitch to them. God, she wanted him, wanted him so badly that she didn’t care about anything else. It was as if she couldn’t breathe without him. ”Yes. Yes, please the words were spoken and she moved her hands to his waist and pulled him close again, placed her full lips to his mouth and nibbled on his lip as she kissed him.

[Dean Samuel Fletcher]

Fletcher grinned against her neck, and sucked a bruise to the tender nerves there before moving on to map out the rest of her jawline and throat with his intricate lips and teeth. The female scent and body never failed to intrigue him, the way they easily gave away their arousal. He nuzzled her throat, smelling the blood beneath the tightly knitted skin, and had he been a werewolf, it would not flow any longer. He lapped over the small wounds that decorated his fine flesh, and pulled back.

"Good. I didn't think I'd be able to resist had you said no, my fair lass." The endearment was only uttered because her name escaped him for the moment, as usually names did in the atmosphere of such. To erase this from the play, he dove in for a second kiss, eliciting a comeback on her part. Women had very different lips compared to a man's, and that was the only reason he didn't mind kisisng the opposite sex. They would never get the advantage of him, nor the best of him.

The scent from her hair rolled in waves through his nostrils, intoxicating him into a frenzy of hunger. He shivered to the scent, and ran a firm hand down the course of her body.

[Bridget Bailey]

Bridget could truly care less where she was and who she was with. She had learned a long time ago that she was an object a very desired object but all the same she was simply something fun for a night or two. She didn't mind it though, she had her favorites and Fletcher happened to be one of those favorites.

Every once in a while he would find himself in her rooms, but most of the time he would pull her into and empty room and they would get the business over and done with is a fairly decent way. He didn't like to wait or schedule a visit and she didn't mind the excitement when it was unexpected.

He nuzzled her neck and she yanked his hips closer to hers. She wanted his hands on her body, her skin. "Good. I didn't think I'd be able to resist had you said no, my fair lass." He pulled back enough to answer her and she just smiled. Maybe she should have said no, it could have been more interesting that way.

All the same he was with her now, and it seemed that is what truly mattered. He dove down for another kiss and her pulse raced. She tilted her head against the wall as much as possible and her cheeks were already started to color a bit at the contact between the two.

It one quick movement she had her hands running up his chest moving the shirt so that he could easily pull it off, and her mouth was on his neck the instant the shirt came off, she licked a path to his throat and along his jawline. "Tell me what you want, anything you wnat. She had moved back up to his ear and was whispering the words as her hands slid down to the waistband of his pants.