by Rie Warren
Cat took my breath away. She brought me to my knees. She blew me so wide open I didn’t think I’d ever had any idea what feeling felt like before.
The intervening week we’d been separated by work. Phone calls and texts and sexts culminated in the need to see and touch and . . .
Shit, I need to be with her.
I hadn’t mentioned my parents were coming to town, giving her a line about editing mayhem and library research for the reason I was unavailable to see her on her first free day that week. I couldn’t imagine pitting her against my money-pit parents.
Cat had been through too much bullshit, singlehandedly. She didn’t need my crisis on top of her damage. And the damage ran deep. So deep she waited until the lights were out and we were under the covers to hold onto me as if she’d otherwise drown.
The stripping, the arrest, her police record: none of that mattered. She was a survivor of something that could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.
Getting my brain back in the game, I helped Mimi up the steps to Husk’s porch entryway. We sat on the glossy black joggling board for a few moments so she could take a breather and I could tamp down the bile already building in my throat.
“Mother.” My father stood when we reached the table inside.
He clasped Mimi with an arm’s length between them. He spoke as if he was rolling around a mouthful of marbles, but I supposed that’s what living in foreign Forbes 400 company-paid penthouses did to a man after almost two decades. Plus, he’d always ponied-up for Mother, especially when he was on home turf where he used to be a backwater, southern drawling son-of-a-gun.
I hurried to retract Mimi from his half-hearted attempt at a welcome. I helped her get settled, pulling out her seat.
He held out his hand to me. “Son.”
I sat my ass down with a screech of chair legs. “I’d prefer it if you called me Nick or Nicky. The term son implies familiarity and family, something you have no right to.”
My mother coolly inspected me from across the table. “Must you keep your hair so long? Is it any wonder he hasn’t found a proper match yet, Theodore?”
I hated that my eye color—violet and unusual—came from her. I’d inherited my strong features from him as well as the dark brown wavy hair. Unlike Mimi, they never showed their age. Father stood tall and airbrushed. Mother sat blonde and unbending.
If I’d wanted to go for the big Bite Me with the folks, I’d have shown up in torn jeans, an old T-shirt, and shitkickers. Instead I’d turned out in a well-tailored suit.
I leaned my elbows on the table, making sure the tablecloth ruched up because that used to make Mom go mental. “Actually, Letty, Teddy, I was gay for the past two years. But I guess you missed that.”
I thought my mother had swallowed one of her Hope Diamond wannabes the way she gulped and gasped and turned a very unattractive shade of purple.
The waiter arrived just in time, and afterward I suffered in silence through the appetizers while Mimi touted my recent achievements.
“Are you still writing that pulp?”
Mimi sat up straight and glared at her daughter-in-law. “Letitia, you kindly will not talk to the boy that way.”
Nice one, Mimi. Probably giving the old girl a fist bump across the table wouldn’t go over so well.
“Damn right I’m still writing. And making a great living from it.” I relaxed back in my seat. “Y’all have no idea how many people like to read erotica.”
Mother turned that beet-red color again. Then she took a long breath and set her napkin on the table.
“You’re right, Myra.” She reached for my hand but pulled back when I scowled at her. “We do follow your career, Nick. In fact, I signed up for your newsletter years ago.”
“You . . . what?” I reeled back in my seat. “There’s no Letitia Loveland on my list.”
For the first time I could remember, her face brightened with humor. “Oh, dear, I wouldn’t use my real name, would I? If you can have a pseudonym, so can I. Look for Miz Tisha.”
I’ll be damned. So the old battleax had a little bit of a funny bone in her. This was new. And disconcerting.
The main course arrived. No matter how tasty my meal was, something stuck in my throat, growing larger swallow after swallow. Daniel’s absence from the table and our inability to talk about him stretched my nerves taut. It was like he never existed
“Remember that time Daniel—” I started, but Mimi took my hand, silently shaking her head.
I couldn’t bear this boulder-sized weight—grieving virtually alone—any longer. “Mom, Dad, remember that time Daniel used one of the Limoges platters as a paint palette?”
To my surprise, Mother hooted a loud laugh before covering her mouth with her napkin. “Well, I hated that ugly old thing anyway, but I had to ground him.”
“He was the wild spirit, Danny was.” My father shook his head with a sad grin.
“Why did you go?” I directed the question to Mother.
“We never wanted to leave you after . . .” Choked up, she dabbed her eyes.
Father squeezed her hand. “We were devastated, Nick. And when we saw what we’d done to Danny, we didn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
“We didn’t intend to be gone for so long. But you settled down, you made friends. You had college and your career. By that time you hated us, and it was too late to make amends.” She rested her head against Father’s shoulder, showing a brief moment of weakness.
Father patted Mimi’s arm. “We knew Mama would give you the kind of rearing we hadn’t been able to.”
She’d given me family life, all they’d provided was a lifestyle I’d never really wanted.
“And I did a damn good job of bringin’ up this fine young man, too.” Mimi harrumphed.
Perhaps they’d been right. My life would’ve been colder, lonelier. I wouldn’t have lived hard, loving every moment of it. And I damn sure wouldn’t have turned out to be a romance writer, one who was suddenly ready to go full-tilt with Cat Steele.
In silent agreement, we all forewent the dessert course and coffee. On the street our embraces were awkward, but what did I expect after so many years of estrangement? Mimi was the only one who hugged with all her usual affection. I wouldn’t see my parents again this trip, but maybe we’d catch up sooner rather than later. Maybe I wouldn’t hang up on them or palm them off to Marjorie. Maybe they were still as hurt as me. That was no excuse for them pulling away, but Mimi was right. Forgiveness took a stronger person.
She was also right about that missing final course of the meal when she muttered, “I sure was lookin’ forward to my sweet afterward,” once we were back on the road.
I pulled over at Kaminsky’s and picked up a slice of seven-layer coconut cake for her and a piece of Mountain of Chocolate cake for Cat. That woman liked her dessert almost as much as I liked to eat her for dessert.
After dropping Mimi off, I sped home. The key under the planter was missing. That meant my woman was waiting inside. I kicked the door shut and prepared for Viper to pounce on me. When she didn’t bullet out of nowhere, I headed for the kitchen, where I put the cake in the fridge. Music swelled from the direction of my den—low, gritty sounds I followed.
Logs blazed away in the fireplace and Cat stood in front of it with her back to me. Her black sheath of hair swung down to her ass. Other than that all I could see was bare legs and bare arms.
“You used the key.”
At the sound of my voice, Cat swiveled around. And holy fuck, my cock went into instant pole position. Aside from her loose hair she wore nothing but a pair of sheer black bikini panties and metal-spiked heels that clicked across the floorboards with every sway of her hips.
“You don’t exactly keep it hidden, Nicky.”
Goddamn. She was staring at the bulge in my pants.
“You’re wearing a suit.” She flicked the tie and fingered my belt buckle open.
She plucked until the top button of my pants opened,
too. Her hand slipped inside. She grasped my cock, making me ache and shake.
She dragged two fingertips up my length and off, and sucked them into her mouth. “I like it.”
I licked my lips. “And you’re wearin’ . . .” I lost my voice, my train of thought, my damn mind when she went for another dive inside the loosened pants.
Her fingers alighted on the head of my shaft. Discovering more flowing pre-ejaculate, she gave a throaty groan, reveling in my obvious excitement. Then she moaned as she smoothed my slickness across her parted lips. She licked it slowly off with a tantalizing smile. I kissed away what little of my flavor was left, my tongue lunging inside. All the while, Cat backed me up to the towering bookshelf next to my desk.
When my back was firmly planted against the wood shelves, she walked away. She tossed her hair and said, “Stay.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I grunted.
I kicked off my shoes and socks, but when I started to rip off my suit jacket her voice returned from the doorway, “Leave the suit on.”
Yes, ma’am.
Cat returned with one of the straight-backed chairs from the kitchen. She placed it in the middle of the room. After leading me to it, she made me stand still again as she shed my jacket and opened my shirt. She stroked every single tight muscle from my abs to my pecs where she teased my flat nipples into little points.
Cat pushed my shirt from my shoulders. Her mouth widened to suck the tat circling my bicep. Moaning against my neck, she grasped my ass. “Your body is so addictive.”
I shivered when she pushed me down. Only the seat she’d placed behind me saved me from falling flat out on the floor. Not that I cared at that point. “What are you doin’?”
“Want a show, hon?”
I was sweating, gulping. Fuck yeah, I wanted it. I nodded because all other motor functions—and most definitely my verbal abilities—had just left the building.
“I want to make sure you don’t have a problem with my previous employment.” She said it in that same cool tone she’d used when she’d cut me down the first time I’d met her.
“I told you I’m okay with it, Cat.”
“Please, Nick. Any man who finds out his girlfriend used to bump and grind for a living and then says ‘that’s okay’ is a damn liar.”
“Back up a sec. Is that what you are?”
“What?”
“My girlfriend.” A smile spread across my lips.
“Yeah. I think so.” Her hips started moving. Her arms twisted above her head. The movement pulled her tits high and sent the nasty-hot piercings swinging. “And I want to make sure my boyfriend knows all my moves are reserved for him.”
Game on. This was just what I needed to take me out of my patricidal/matricidal headspace.
When Cat leaned over me, her breasts hung low, brushing my chest. I lifted my palms and settled them just beneath her nipples. The long pendulum piercings tinkled in my hands, her nipples rasping against my palms. She unzipped my pants, pulled me out. Stroking upward, she moaned at the feel of my cock in her hand. She hefted it, weighing the heaviness and heat and hardness, as my breathing grew harsh.
I groaned and twitched. Cat straightened up. She backed away. She observed me—my shirt and jacket gone, the tie undone and hanging down in twin black darts on my chest. Dark gray pants unzipped. The line of hair from my belly down created a trim nest visible within the opened triangle of my trousers from which my cock rose.
And my cock was totally goddamn vertical, tall and throbbing against my abs. I stared at her staring at my dick, but when I gave my cock one slow stroke, she wrapped her fingers around my wrist. Her nails brushed the swollen veins bulging on my cock as she pulled my hand away.
“No touching.” Swooping low—her silky hair in my lap—she licked around the hard ridge of my cock before spinning her tongue over the head and off.
Her throaty laugh at the long string of precome and saliva connecting her lips to my pulsing meat made my hips jerk. My breathing roughened even more. She repeated her tantalizing move, wetting my cockhead all over. Slippery strands hung between us until they broke and dripped all over my shaft, coating me.
Cat stepped away. I sat, riveted. Unable to move, unable to speak. And hell, I was fast on the way to forgetting how to frigging breathe. My loud groans and choppy breaths were the only sounds until she picked up the remote and clicked something on the iPod dock.
“Feelin’ Love” by Paula Cole filled the room. Had she chosen the song because of love or because of the suggestive lyrics and sexy beat? And did I really give a fuck when she faced away from me, teasing me with hooded glances over her shoulder and provocative sways of her hips? Through the see-through panties I saw the cleft of her perfect ass. I wanted to use my teeth to rip those suckers off her then suck and lick and bite her cheeks.
The sultry rhythm of her walk toward me made me hope for contact. Her hips gyrating in slow circles, Cat straddled me. Pelvis pumping, smooth legs on either side of mine, she never quite touched her slit to my cock. It was torture in the extreme to sit still.
There was no shame in her. No blame in me. We’d both committed past sins, but that just made who we were stronger, and what we had hotter.
Cat owned it. She owned me.
My lips parted for air that seemed to have disappeared. “Wildcat.”
“Mm?” She whipped her hair around. Gripping my shoulders, she rose up until her panty-clad pussy almost, almost slipped up and down my chest.
My jaw clenched. My muscles tensed. I was shaking beneath her. I moaned out loud and long when she finally slid her pussy against my rock solid shaft.
Arching back, she whimpered, “Hold onto me, hon.”
My hands went straight to her ass as she shimmied on my lap, grinding in slow tight circles. One of her hands was braced on my shoulder. The other was placed on my knee behind her. She hooked one high heel around the back of my chair and continued the lap dance.
Just when I was about to blow my wad, Cat placed both feet on the floor with an audible snap of her heels. As she lifted up against me, she let her warm center make contact with my chest. I felt how hot and wet she was inside those damn panties.
“Holy fuck.”
She tapped my lip with one long finger and whispered lowly in my ear. “Naughty boy, Mr. Love.”
She kneeled on the seat on either side of my hips and straightened further. Her pussy was right there. “Now eat me. No hands.”
I went at her with a grunt. With my face against the wet gusset, I sucked her labia and lightly chewed on them, hoping a motherfucking hole would appear in the panties. She was drenched right through the thin material, the outline of her pouty pussy obvious. I clipped her clit with my teeth, sneering when she all but purred above me. My tongue slipped beneath the material, and I sank it inside her soaking slit. My teeth grazed her, my mouth closed around her.
“Yeah, daddy. Eat me like that.”
Jesus Christ. That shouldn’t be so hot but it was. My cock thickened to new proportions.
After she came all over my face, I took full advantage of her mindless moaning state. I tore off the panties and cupped her ass cheeks. She lowered over me, her body sliding against mine and all the way down.
I sucked her tits and bit her nipples on their way past my mouth. “Fuuuuuck.”
“Naughty again, Mr. Love.” She admonished in a husky voice. “That’s okay, I can be naughty too.”
No shit.
Cat slipped off my lap. I panted, my hips pumping, practically humping the air. She danced in front of me, now only in the heels. Wet trails slid down her inner thighs, visible when she parted her legs, bent her knees and undulated—spread-eagled—all the way to the floor.
On her hands and knees, her tits hanging, the piercings stretching toward the floor, she crawled to me. She came up between my thighs. “Huge cock, Nicky. I can’t wait to ride it.”
I ground my teeth until I thought I’d make powder out of my molars.
; With one hand around the base of my shaft, the other tight just below the head, slick and wet already from her, from me . . . she said, “Look at that. So big I’d need three hands to cover all of you.”
My stomach clenched. My hips twisted.
Cat smiled before she started working me over. She focused on the engorged purplish head, using her tongue to lick and her lush lips to kiss and suck. Every once in awhile she’d lower her mouth over me. When my cock hit her throat I almost blacked out from pleasure. My head dropped back. My hands gathered her hair. She returned to the soft suck-suck-suck-kiss on my cockhead.
Insanity. I was going to go insane very, very soon. My back lifted away from the chair. My neck cranked back, but I wouldn’t close my eyes. My ass slid back and forth to her rhythm when she deep throated me. I watched her blow me. I choked on my own breath, my tongue, my voice. I wanted to beg, but nothing came out but an unintelligible string of curses.
She rolled a condom on me and as far as sexy sights went, that was one of the best. Right after her giving me a blow job, her dancing for me, her . . .
Oh fuck.
Her hand squeezed my balls, and my pelvis leaped from the chair again.
Hovering over my lap, Cat kissed me deeply, swallowing all the hoarse words I wanted to say. She grabbed the ends of my tie and held one end in each hand. Then she tight-twirled her hips down while I steadied my cock, aiming it at her snug, slick cunt. Her pussy lips parted. My cock tunneled inside of her. I threw my head back to shout when her ass met my thighs, and I was thick, solid, and so deep inside her tight channel.
“Don’t move,” she gasped. “Don’t touch.”
“Goddammit, Cat.” I bit out, straining like some fucking beast in heat. My hands curled around the edges of the seat.
Using my tie as reins Cat rode the fuck out of me. Within a dozen unbelievably sensual rotations up my cock until I almost popped out, and down until I felt like the head of my dick should be stretched up inside her belly, she came to a halt. Grinding her clit against my pubes, she jerked. She bucked and screamed my name and came all over my cock in drenching, clenching, torturous pulses.