HURRICANE (Beasts of Prey Book 2)

by LC Lehesaho

  "Oh, shit," she gasps, her hips bucking her clit closer to me as I twirl my tongue on it. "Holy fuck, Tiger."

  My chest expands from her satisfaction—from the way she squirms under my touch. I slip two fingers into her, and her labored breaths fill the entire bedroom.

  Reaching my other hand to her chest, I massage her tit while pinching her nipple between my fingers. She starts to tremble, move again in that wicked way of hers when she starts to come close to her release. Her hot and slick pussy clenches around my fingers as she chants all kinds of vivid curse words, coming closer and closer.

  I'm doing this to her.

  Me.

  I've always taken care of her—only me.

  "Are you mine?" I ask, between licking and sucking.

  "Yes, yes, yes—oh my god," Cobra cries out, grinding her legs to the mattress again. "I'm going to come, oh fuck."

  I'm going to come when she's like this.

  "Say my name, baby," I whisper to her, heartbeat skyrocketing.

  "Tiger," she wails out, arching her back and shaking uncontrollably when her orgasm starts to ripple through her. "Oh, god, I love you."

  Something inside me changes.

  Cobra has always accepted me as I am. As I've been.

  She knows me.

  All of me.

  "No, baby. My other name."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  "Anthony," I pant his previous name, over and over again as I come around his fingers, pleasurable shockwaves crashing over me. My thighs clasps against him as he keeps touching me smoothly, while the orgasm echoes in every cell of me, curling my toes.

  Tiger is so damn good.

  I can't even breathe anymore from the overwhelming sensation, my clit is so sensitive it makes me almost cry, so I use the last strength my shivering body possesses and pull myself out of his reach, clamping my thighs together.

  "Let me breathe, please," I gasp, focusing my blurry eyes on him as he sits between my legs, keeping his hands now on my knees. The expression on Tiger's face is something I've never seen on him before.

  He looks peaceful.

  And that's something Tiger never is. The previous meant something to him, but I don't know what yet. He never wanted me to call him Anthony after we came up with Tiger, so there has to be something going on in his mind I'm unaware of. I thought everything was okay between us when we went to sleep, but I was clearly delusional.

  "You can let go now," he says with a hoarse voice, a genuine smile playing on his kissable lips.

  "I'm not sure I can," I answer, stretching my fingers around the iron bars. His right hand leaves from my knee, disappearing behind my legs, and he watches me with now a sinful smirk on his face. The flexing of his bicep makes me swipe my thighs wide to see the show.

  "You sure, baby?" Tiger cajoles as he slowly strokes himself.

  My mouth is no longer dry from the long O he gave me a minute ago, and I have to swallow the drool down. He is so fucking exquisite I don't know what I’ve done right in my life to deserve a guy like Tiger.

  The faint light of the daybreak illuminates his awe-inspiring form, captivating me entirely and making me forget I was going to ask him about what was going on in his wicked mind. My eyes roam over his body, heating me all over again, and I end up staring at his tattooed right hand.

  Shivers of lust skate down my spine, spreading through my body and making home to my core as he works up and down his dick, which size still amazes me.

  "Holy shit, you're fine," I breathe out, biting my lip, aching to feel that inside me.

  "Yeah?" He tilts his head, dark eyes sparkling with heat.

  I grip the iron bars tighter, core throbbing from need. "Yeah, like really, really fine."

  Tiger leans over me, taking hold of the headboard, and guiding his thick head to my entrance. My breath picks up speed as he teases me with it while giving me a light kiss. I can taste myself on him, and it turns me on probably more than it should. "Then you're probably happy I'm yours," he says, nipping my bottom lip, and then pushes inside me, slowly stretching me to adjust his size.

  It feels fucking heavenly.

  "I am," I moan, letting my eyes flutter close. Managing to let go of the iron bars, I wrap my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair.

  Tiger hauls me up with him, and before I can realize what happened, I'm straddling him, hands on his pecs. He looks up at me, admiration leaking out of his mesmerizing eyes, and his grip on my waist tightens, giving me a hint. "Show it to me, baby girl. Show how you can handle all of me."

  I knew there was some shit going on in his head.

  Starting to move gradually back and forth on him, I pull the T-shirt and bra over my head, giving him something to look at. His gaze darts to my breasts and back to my eyes, and the raw desire leaking from his expression makes me feel sexy. Wanted. Strong. A goddamn goddess.

  The marks on my body don't mean shit.

  The feel of Tiger filling me to the limits is mind-blowing, but I keep myself in order, not letting the euphoria of it consume me. Not yet.

  "Fuck, you feel amazing, baby," he says, gripping my waist harder as I ride the length of him, his breathing growing faster with every second.

  "You know why?" I ask, words coming out in gasps.

  "Huh?"

  "I was made for you." The pressure bubbles and builds up inside me, electrifying my body, and I feel him vibrating underneath me as my muscles tighten around him. No one has ever felt as good as Tiger does. "And you were made for me, love."

  Sinking my nails to his pecs, I move faster, so damn close to getting my ecstasy.

  His chest heaves beneath my hands, blazing eyes glued to mine, and I know he's close too. Then his hand flies to my throat, jerking me closer, so our lips are almost touching. "Don't let me run, baby."

  The familiar shot of adrenaline rushes through me as he tightens his hold, and fuck, that feels good.

  "You're a beast like me," I moan breathlessly, nearly exploding, "We don't fucking run."

  He pushes himself to lean on his other hand, mouth crashing onto mine. The sensation is overpowering, making me come fast and hard, and the violent bursts of rapture races over me. Tiger loosens his hold, letting me gasp for air against his mouth, and my satisfied moan mixes with the low growl that rises from his throat as he comes inside me. His powerful body shudders under me, vibrating from pleasure, and his hand glides to the back of my head, fisting my hair as he drowns his face against my neck.

  I fold my arms around him, gathering my breath, embracing the after waves.

  "I mean it, Tiger," I say, caressing the strong muscles on his back. "You and I will never run from each other." Leaning back to meet his eyes, I lift my right palm up, the one with the cut. "Even without this, I'd always be by your side. If you don't trust my words, trust yourself. You know me. From inside and out, you know me better than anyone. You got me from day one, so please, stay with me, Anthony."

  The astonished look on his face tells me I guessed it right. His hit and run instinct had tried to overwhelm him at night, and I should've known it would happen. I was just way too fucking tired after everything to think clearly.

  "Say something," I persuade, placing my palm to his cheek while cold shivers skate down my back because he stays silent.

  Tiger swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I was just…" His gaze goes to my hair, not my eyes as he speaks. "I was scared you'd change your opinion about me. That you’d think I'm not strong enough."

  My heart breaks and melts at the same time, but I keep my face straight.

  "Look at me."

  When he does, I look at the eyes of the boy who offered to carry a tray of cereal for me five years ago. His hands trembled, his strangled voice came out stuttering, but he didn't fucking back down. Already then, his backbone was made of iron, and his strength of will was unbreakable.

  "Tell me one thing." I give him a challenging look. "Who's the one person I've always trusted my life with? Who h
as carried my secrets and kept my demons away?"

  He sighs, but a little smile curves his perfect lips up. "Me."

  "Well, correct! Look who's the lucky winner." I pinch his cheek, grinning. "You might be annoying as fuck from time to time, and I hate your stupid bike and the fact you're so goddamn good-looking chicks are drooling over you and that you've also been boning Cassie motherfucking Romero, who has zero fat on her ass and gorgeous cheekbones. But the thing I love you the most for is that you never back down. Never. If it doesn't mean you're strong enough, I don't know what does."

  Tiger tries to stay serious, with no success, and bursts out a laugh, looking more handsome than ever. "Baby, you're a fucking dumbass. My bike is amazing, and you better learn to love it. What comes to Cassie, I don't even remember what she looks like ‘cause she didn't mean shit. Your ass is the most exquisite ass I've ever seen, and I wouldn't change a thing about you." He moves his hand from my waist to my ass, squeezing it.

  There is still something on his mind, a little cloud over his features, but Tiger says nothing, just keeps a light smile on his lips.

  "I don't usually like to push you to talk, but now we're gonna solve this thing out." I tilt my head. "I swear I'm gonna sit on your dick until you spill the rest of your beans, got it?"

  "I think there's been a misunderstanding about how much I like to feel your pussy around my cock." He smirks, and I feel my cheeks heating.

  Yeah, I didn't think that through.

  "Well—" I try to bounce myself off him, but Tiger's hold on me tightens, not letting me move an inch. I huff, rolling my eyes. "Fuck it, just talk to me."

  His fingers on the back of my head start to massage my scalp, sending a wave of endorphins to float through my body. "Before this, I didn't feel whole. I separated the former me and who I am now, or I tried at least. I didn't want to be that boy anymore. I wanted to be better, you know?" His captivating eyes search mine, trying to see if I follow. I nod, knowing we're not playing games, and I don't have to say anything.

  "I didn't want to be Anthony ‘cause people pity him, and I don't fucking like it." His voice stays steady, way calmer than I thought it would with this subject. "But I am him; I am Amelia's brother. And it tore me apart ‘cause denying Anthony, I denied her too. I don't want to forget her. Does this make any sense?"

  I bite my cheek, desperately trying to control my emotions. Don't you dare to cry. I'm not a goddamn crybaby, but for some reason, I've been crying more in the last month than in my whole life.

  "Yeah, it does," I mumble, blinking to keep the pressure behind my lids in control.

  "I spent the entire night stressing about us. I was sure when you woke up, you’d see me differently, and we wouldn’t be us anymore." His hand on my ass moves up, fingertips starting to sweep up and down on my spine. "But I should've known if someone can make me feel whole, it's you. You let me be me. With you, I can be everything. With you, I'm not a fucking tragedy."

  It happens—I can't help it, but a teardrop slips down my cheek. The storm of emotions makes no sense inside me, and I don't know if I'm crying from joy or sadness. Tiger pulls me closer, licking it away, and kisses my cheek.

  "You've been awfully emotional lately, worm," he states, corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile.

  "My hormones are fucking with me; that's what it is." I sniff my nose, taking a deep breath. I look at his charming features, butterflies flapping in my belly from the intensity of his gaze. "I promise you can always be you around me. No running, no hiding, and no lying. Okay? And yes, it applies to me too."

  "It's a deal." Tiger smirks, kissing the top of my nose. "Look at us, we're gonna fucking rock this relationship thing, baby girl."

  I snort, lifting my palm to a high five, to which he answers instantly. "Well, damn right, we are. The next level is matching sweaters."

  "Duh, yes." He laughs, and the delicious sound of it makes my stomach somersault. The hand on my back goes to my ass, taking a firm grip, and the other one does the same to my breast while he flashes me a sexy grin. I feel him growing hard inside me all over again, and I can't help but sway my hips a little. "You with me, baby?"

  "Teach me how to purr, kitty," I tease, and the sinister flicker in his eyes tells me I might be in trouble for letting it out of my mouth.

  "Don't say I haven't warned you about calling me that."

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  "Five. Four. Yes, keep going! Three."

  I glare at Puma, my brows pinching together while the vein on my forehead ready to explode.

  "It's going great, two. One!" He throws his hands in the air like I just won a goddamn marathon or something. "Way to go, sis!"

  With a growl, I drop the kettlebell to the floor after doing twenty motherfucking strict presses. This was already the third round, which included other just as annoying shit moves like this, and my shoulders and biceps are screaming for rest.

  My legs aren't.

  Because Puma, the wannabe personal trainer, forbids everything which includes using legs. My injured leg is fine—I can walk with it, so why I can't run on the treadmill is over my head. Boxing would be amazing, but it was too a clear no-no. So, instead of doing anything nice, he's been forcing me to train with his stupid kettlebells.

  "Do you have to be so damn happy go lucky? It makes me want to punch you," I huff at him, gulping my water.

  He laughs me off, reaching the bar on the cable crossover, and starts to do pull-ups. "Hey, it's been proven that a supportive environment fosters better results."

  "Oh yeah? And where did you learn that? From the back of the cereal box?" I sneer, wiping the sweat off my forehead.

  "No." Puma grins, pulling himself up. "I read a book." He lowers and pulls back up, muscles flexing and tightening in a steady rhythm. Brother has apparently spent more time at the gym lately, not that he wasn't in shape earlier, but now he is jacked. And not by smoking like usual, but he has actually gained more bulk.

  I cock an eyebrow. "Wait, what? Say that again."

  "I read a book about coaching," he says, all no big deal.

  "Coaching? Why?" I stare at him, stunned.

  "To learn things, obviously."

  "Well, no shit, Sherlock. Why do you want to learn about coaching, dumdum?"

  He drops down from the bar, I lost count after thirty pull-ups. Wiping his hands to his loose tank top, he shrugs one shoulder. "I think it might be my thing."

  My mouth drops open as I stare at his bright green eyes. "Like being a PT or what?"

  "Sort of." He picks up my kettlebell, placing it on the rack. "Even though I don't run around at the clubs and shit, I like to be around people. And CrossFit is my thing, so I thought I could maybe… do something what actually interests me. College isn't my thing, as you've noticed."

  My heart burst out of my chest from pride. "That sounds amazing. I love it. And sorry I was an ass earlier."

  Puma flashes me a wide grin, adjusting his cap. "Thanks. I haven't spoken to Dad yet ‘cause there's been so much going on, and I need to plan a speech, so he won't kill me for dropping out of college."

  "He will support you, I'm sure."

  "Ha, sure. After how well I ruined the family dinner last night, yeah, he's probably super chill."

  The gym door opens behind me, and Puma's face tells me enough.

  "Speaking of the devil," he mutters, grabbing a white towel to his shoulder. "I'm gonna go, but stretch your back and arms well, or you won't lift an arm tomorrow."

  "Why don't you stay? We could talk to him together and—"

  Puma tousles my hair, wrinkling his nose. "Not gonna happen. I got my fair share of talking with him last night." At that, he turns, heading to the men's locker room.

  I don't know what has made him interested in doing something with his life, but I couldn't be happier about it. Puma hasn't shown any signs of wanting to do anything else other than smoke his brains out, nor has he ever been self-destructive either. He's always dropped in between, letting hi
s life pass by. So, if he shows actual signs of living his life, I'm gonna stand behind him and cheer him on.

  Though I still hate the exercise he made me go through, but that's not on him. I'd have hated it no matter who'd done it.

  "Angel." Dad wraps an arm around me, placing a kiss on my forehead before sitting on the weightlifting bench. Based on his outfit—deep night blue button-up and charcoal-colored slacks—he's not here to pump iron.

  "What's up?" I ask, starting to stretch my arms as Puma ordered. "Tell me you didn't kill Bear?"

  I'm only partly joking; Dad was pretty pissed last night.

  He places his hands behind him, leaning back and stretches his legs to the floor, crossing them from the ankle.

  "I was tempted, for sure, but no, I didn't," Dad says, face unreadable. "Did you know about this, Cobra?"

  There's no question about what he means.

  "I did," I say, throwing one arm overhead and stretching it with the other. Puma did a great job—my shoulders and triceps are killing me.

  Dad's eyes narrow. "Then why didn't you tell me?"

  Taking a deep breath through my nose, I try to find the right words. "Bear needed time. You know him; the baby is freaking him out. It's a big thing to take in. I wanted to respect his wish not to tell anyone yet."

  "I don't know how to make you kids understand that I don't like or accept secrets in this house," he sighs, shaking his head. "You need to realize this. Secrets are a weakness. If I don't know what's going on, how can I protect you?"

  The sting in my heart is awfully familiar. My skin crawls, and I bite my cheek, dropping my gaze to the floor. "I know and I'm sorry, I should've convinced him to talk to you sooner."

  "Angel, look at me."

  Reluctantly I lift my eyes back to him. His honey-colored eyes look more yellow than brown under the gym's fluorescent lamps, and to my surprise, there's a softness in them, which he usually keeps away. Or kept—before my vacay on Crusador's five-star hotel of horrors.