The Cougar's Trade

by Holley Trent

  He slipped his hands beneath her shirt and glided them up to her ribs, pausing with his thumbs just beneath her breasts. He knew for certain his hands weren’t cold.

  Sighing, she tucked her face against his neck.

  So good. Stay right there. “I was sleeping some distance away from the tent,” he continued, inching his hands upward. “In my cougar form, I mean. More resistant to cold that way, and didn’t need a sleeping bag. I just settled between a couple of rocks that blocked the wind and fell asleep within thirty seconds, probably.”

  He swept his thumbs across her breasts, catching her nipples on the downstroke.

  She moaned softly and squirmed atop his lap, grinding his erection under her crotch.

  “Are you teasing me or provoking me?”

  “Teases are women who demand attention they crave but don’t need. That’s never been my style.”

  “You want me to touch you?”

  “I don’t know what else I can do but to ask at this point. I usually don’t have to ask.”

  “Damn, woman.” All he’d needed was the go-ahead. The needy cat in him had wanted to touch her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her a month ago, and here she was, straddling him and urging him on. He grabbed her shirt at the hem and tugged it over her head, immediately pressing her cooler flesh to his, not giving her a moment to notice the chill or think too much about what he’d done. He trained his lips on the sweet bend of her neck and kissed down her shoulder before raising her up to her knees to bring her breasts up high for his inspection. More tasting than inspecting, really.

  Her soft mewls and tentative grip on his shoulders impelled him to lay her on her back. He eased down her shorts, paused to appreciate the delicate swatch of lacy nothingness she called panties before removing those, too. He let his hands wander up her legs and belly, his inner cat purring in expectation, but Hank wanted to savor the moment. To memorize her curves and swells, her smoothness. Catalog her body’s reactions to his touch so he could plan the next ones.

  “So smooth,” he whispered, curling his fingers around one perfect calf.

  She didn’t say anything, just nestled her other foot beside his knee, opening herself a bit to his gaze. An enticing distraction from his enjoyable exploration. Cat that he was, he moved on from his caress of her leg and settled between her thighs. He pushed his palms up the insides of her legs, and she pressed one foot to his chest, stopping him.

  “Do you remember what we talked about earlier?”

  He furrowed his brow. “What?” Don’t fucking tell me she wants to talk Cougar politics right now. That shit could wait for later. Or never. Just not now when he needed to touch.

  She made a slow, ticklish line down to his open waistband with her big toe. “I told you I’d watch you. Did you think I was just blowing smoke?”

  “To be honest, yes.”

  She worked his pants down a bit farther, and he caught her ankle before her toes skimmed the head of his cock.

  “I thought you wanted me to touch you.”

  “You will.” She didn’t elaborate on the mysterious response, but propped herself up onto her forearms and skimmed her foot up his outer thigh, opening herself to him even more.

  “You’re trying to kill me. To confuse me so bad I don’t notice you’re digging my grave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Hank. We have a long time to get to know each other, so what’s a little delay? I thought cats liked playing with their food on occasion.”

  “I’d love to play with my food. Seems you’re more interested in me playing with myself.”

  “Would you indulge me?”

  Her expression was so earnest, her voice so plaintive, that he didn’t really see where he could say no. He let down his jeans a few inches—just enough to free himself from the stifling constraints.

  She sucked in some air. “You Cougars seem to have an aversion to underwear. Do you ever wear them?”

  “Probably about as often as you wear bras.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  So cute. And what was so wrong with cute? “Easier to shift when you’ve only got a few layers to shuck off.” He took his cock in hand and gripped the base, catching her gaze, which was actually on his face, and not on his erection.

  “Talk me through it,” she whispered.

  “Seriously?”

  “Tell me what you like.”

  “I may need to disabuse you of the notion that I’m picky. A touch is a touch.”

  “And a fuck’s a fuck?”

  He shrugged. That had always been the case in his experience, anyway. One woman had always been about as good as any other as far as sex was concerned. Looking back on the experiences, he couldn’t think of very much about them that was memorable at all. Not the actions, not the actors. It was like most of the woodwork he’d done in the past decade or so. Shouldn’t he have been a bit more present? It was all one unenthusiastic blur.

  The only things he had sharp memories of were working on his house, fighting off demons with his brothers, and…basically every move Miles had made in a month.

  He set his gaze on Miles again—on her watchful curiosity. Her trusting compliance. She deserved better than him robotically going through the motions. She was worth him remembering touching her…and being touched back. He didn’t need simply to give her his participation. That was too easy. She needed his focus. Eyes, hands…heart.

  Tightening his fingers around his shaft, he let out a breath. “Gentle touches, like this”—he skimmed his fingers along the bottom of his cock—“are nice. Especially when I’m tired or lazy.”

  She nodded and fixed her stare on the fist he formed around his cock head. He knelt beside her to improve her view, thereby ruining the one he had of her. Probably a good thing. The sight of her would probably cause an embarrassingly fast undoing on his part. That definitely wasn’t the impression he wanted her to have of him—that he couldn’t take care of her that way because he was selfish, but wasn’t he? His patchy memory of past encounters indicated that he had been.

  “More,” she said. He must have been too quiet.

  “Uh. When I’m excited or angry or just…too fucking horny, I like more pressure.” He gave himself a firm tug and watched her sink white teeth into her bottom lip.

  Up and down, up and down, his hand worked the tight flesh, and she watched as if taking detailed mental notes about cause and effect. Squeeze here, and he’ll moan. Glide your fingers there, and he’ll hiss.

  He closed his eyes on the mental imagery of her delicate fingers toying with his satiny head, of her tongue skimming over—

  No, his imagination wasn’t that good. He pushed his eyelids open to find her pulling more and more of him into her mouth. Her tongue massaged the underside of his shaft and her teeth gently grazed the sensitive skin.

  Fuck.

  “Miles…” Miles what? Miles stop? Or, Miles, oh gods, don’t stop?

  Letting him fall from her mouth, she rolled that pale gaze up to him as if in a dare and slowly unclenched his fingers from his cock, cinching her own around him in their stead. “What about here?” She slipped the fingers of her free hand under his sac and swiped her thumb across the top.

  “Yes. I like being touched there.”

  “Okay.” She pulled him into her warm mouth once more, this time adding teasing caresses to his balls and firm compression to his shaft.

  Setting his teeth together, he put his head back and forced out a breath. He’d always thought there was something so clinical about hand jobs, and even oral sex for that matter. Touch this, squeeze that, put your tongue here. Repeat.

  Miles seemed to be compelled by his responses, slight though they were, giving him everything he didn’t know he needed, and in a pattern that made sense only to her. Lips. Tongue. Teeth. Here, there, everywhere at once, it seemed.

  It was good. So good. And he was in his head, enjoying it all, without paying any attention to the woman giving him such pleasure. He opened
his eyes and pressed his hands to her cheeks, and into her short hair.

  “Don’t stop. Gods, don’t stop.”

  He held her head still and thrust into her fist, her mouth, hissing at the sight of her expression. He might have called it a satisfied grin if she were actually able to grin at the moment, but her lips certainly seemed to twitch in that direction.

  He didn’t think it was actually possible, but she increased suction around his head and took up a more ruthless jerking of his cock that had his shoulder blades pulling together and his belly full of fire. He thrust into her again and again, and she just took it all, looking up at him beneath hooded eyelids as if seeking out some response…some…feedback?

  “Feels so fucking good, Miles. And you…you look so good.” Hardly eloquent, but shit, it was true. Kneeling in front of him like that, she looked absolutely debauched, and with his hands in her hair, he could add possessed to the list of adjectives, too. Realizing that did almost as much for him as her tongue probing his tip at the moment did.

  She was his mate, and he’d known that, of course, but not fully what it’d meant. He was bound by the goddess’s will to care for this woman, and even give his life for her, but he hadn’t considered what Miles would be giving him in exchange. He’d been so cold to her, but she kept on giving him warmth. Enthusiasm. It was almost as if she liked him.

  “You…like me?” Instead of a statement, his words came out a pathetic question. The sound of an uncertain man who’d lived thirty-two years without knowing what romantic affection felt like.

  She set her teeth into his flesh and set off that fiery chain reaction he couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to. His seed flowed across her tongue and down her throat as she gripped his thighs and dropped her gaze.

  When she released him, he pulled her up onto her knees. “Do you?”

  Even in the dark, he could see the mottled red of her cheeks, and the difficulty she had setting her gaze on him. She’d find his eyes only to look quickly away.

  “You like me?” he repeated, this time tipping her chin to him.

  “Why would that surprise you?” she whispered. “I would have thought you wanted that.”

  “I can’t really let myself want what I don’t expect to ever have, can I?”

  “You just assumed that any woman La Bella Dama tossed at you would merely tolerate you?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard enough rumors about Foye men to guess why.” Hell, she’d seen how people in town responded to him. He knew his reputation. He’d even done his best to maintain it to keep people from trying to get too close. It’d become a habit, just like compartmentalizing everything about sex beyond the orgasm. He was on autopilot, going through the motions of everything in life, because nothing was worth his passion. He pretended well enough with the Cougars, but he realized now, that’s all it was. He hadn’t had passion for anything he’d once loved and enjoyed in at least ten years—not since they’d all had to grow up.

  “Nah, I don’t really want to know what you think. Don’t tell me.” Unless it’s true. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and held her against him.

  “I like you so much I can’t stand you, Hank.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  That surprised him?

  Miles would have thought a man like Hank would expect people to not only respect him, but like him, too.

  “That’s a privileged way of thinking. Let go of it.”

  “Get out of my head,” she whispered.

  Hank held her back a few moments and looked at her with concern. “How am I in your head?”

  “Not you. Never mind.”

  “No, not never mind. Something obviously bothered you, and it was either me or something else. I hope it wasn’t me, and if it was something else, I’d like you to tell me about it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not bothering me as much as distracting me.”

  “This isn’t a side effect of your illness, is it?”

  She laughed. “No. I just…”

  “At your discretion.”

  “Fine. Thank you.”

  Hank pushed up an eyebrow.

  Miles let out a breath. “I…hear things. She’s speaking to me. Sometimes she gets chatty and I get confused.”

  “Who is speaking to you? Agatha? I know she and Ellery have some odd communicative methods, but the last time I checked, you were neither a witch nor a wind goddess.”

  “No, I’m just a boring nurse. It’s…uh…your goddess. She talks to me sometimes.” She waited for the shoe to drop—for him to tell her she was nuts and to look at her while wearing an appropriately suspicious expression.

  “She’s…talking to you? Is that what you’re telling me?” He sat back on his heels and fixed his pants. Good thing. It was hard to pay attention to the conversation at hand when he had exposed himself so temptingly.

  Miles wrapped her arms around her chest and gritted her teeth against the cool wind. “It’s not continuous.”

  “Here.” Hank rooted beneath a couple of cushions and pulled out a heavy woolen blanket. He wrapped it around her shoulders, leaving a gap at her chest. As if she wouldn’t notice.

  She pinched it closed. “It started soon after you and Sean fetched us from your mother’s.”

  “What is she telling you?”

  “Mostly just pick-me-up things. Encouragement. Telling me whether my interactions with Cougars are typical or things I need to be wary of.”

  “That’s not normal.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “Who else knows about it?”

  “Just Ellery, Agatha, and now you. I don’t think Mason knows yet. Agatha helped me figure out what it was. I thought I was going crazy.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

  “It didn’t seem important.”

  “My goddess is chatting to you enough to drive you a little nuts, and you didn’t think that was important? Cougars never expect to hear from her, and it’s been so long since anyone’s seen her that we’ve been starting to wonder if she even exists anywhere but in our imaginations. You’re telling me she is right there in your head. That is a huge fucking deal, and you didn’t tell me. You—”

  “Hank.” She set a hand against his mouth, then asked quietly, “How would you have reacted if I had? Really think about it. Don’t give me the obvious answer, but your true one.”

  His luminescent eyes narrowed and his lips twitched beneath her hand. He took her wrist gently inside his fingers and freed his mouth. “Okay. True answer? I’d probably still be pissed.”

  “Why?”

  He scoffed and gave his head a hard shake. “Because she doesn’t make sense. Nobody knows what the fuck they’re doing anymore, and she’s been so quiet. Where was she when everything started falling apart? We don’t even know how we’re supposed to act, and all we can do is make shit up as we go along and hope no one gets hurt in the process. She didn’t tell us what to do when the shit hit the fan, but she’s in your head? You’re not even— You know what? Fuck it.”

  Releasing her wrist, he stood, heeled off his boots, and pushed down his jeans.

  “What are you doing?”

  He shifted so quickly in front of her that she hardly had time to appreciate his silky smooth transition from beautifully naked man to sleek, powerful beast.

  The cougar leaped over the side of the truck bed and loped toward the desert.

  “Hank?”

  He kicked up some speed, and soon disappeared into the night.

  “Don’t leave me here,” she whispered, but of course, there was no answer back. He was gone. “Damn him.”

  Running was childish and petty and…

  She sighed at the realization. Running was what he knew. Perhaps he didn’t do it literally, but in small ways. Sometimes ignoring things was a way of running from them. Running had never been her style, not even when she was a kid and went through a couple of pretty dubious foster care placements before she was put into a h
ome that stuck.

  Obviously he needed her, even if the glaring didn’t, and more than anything she wanted to be needed. Being needed meant she belonged, and she’d gone so long without belonging to anyone.

  She sat and watched, refusing to give up her ground. She would be right there when he returned, and she was going to make him deal with it.

  “Well, what do you have to say now?” she asked the goddess.

  “He’s just a man.”

  “The Cougar men I know might say they’d you expect you to say such a thing. They say you’re man-hating.”

  “I love men very much, including my own son. And because of my son, I have tougher standards than some other goddesses might. When you have a son and he is a Cougar, you will understand.”

  “Don’t put the cart ahead of the horse.” Miles found her flimsy shirt, slipped it on, tightened the blanket around her, and settled down onto the cushions. “Talk to me until I nod off. Please.”

  “Fine. I will tell you how Cougars settled into the Southwest.”

  She might have spilled all, and the goddess’s words were probably fascinating indeed, but Miles fell asleep quickly, wondering how she’d inadvertently insult her Cougar the next time and reminding herself that his hang-ups were his own. She didn’t cause them and she couldn’t fix them, but she could accept them, even though there had to be an equal trade. She’d take him as he was, but he needed to do the same for her in return.

  • • •

  It was nearly dawn when Hank returned to the truck and pounced into the bed. He’d spent half the night stalking the hellmouth, which was peaceful for a change, and letting his two halves argue it out.