by Leo, Rosanna
As his head spun, Anton released her and let his gaze rove over her outfit. Her jeans hugged her round thighs, and her sweater was tailored in such a way that it clung to her curves like a devil clinging to lost souls. And that scrap of lace under the sweater? So fucking sexy, like a dirty secret meant only for his ears. “Do you know how hot you are? How you conquer my every thought?”
“I do?”
He brushed his thumb against her quivering bottom lip, hoping the tender act softened the animalistic urge inside him. “You do. I feel a great need to make you crazy, Marci. To ruin you for any other man.”
“I don’t know what to—”
“But before I ruin you,” he said, cutting her off, “I plan to make you completely hungry for me.” He sat on a large, discarded toolbox and leaned casually against the back wall of the shed. “Take your clothes off. Show me everything.”
She blinked a few times, unmoving, clearly deciding how to respond to his order.
“Oh, and I will spank your ass five times for each minute you make me wait, angel.”
She gasped and glared at him. Then, very slowly, she removed her cardigan, exposing the silky skin on her shoulders. His cock bobbed in response.
“I’ve never been so bossed around,” she muttered as she kicked off her shoes.
He grinned. “Are you suggesting you don’t want to feel the touch of my hand? Just think. A sharp sting on your voluptuous ass, followed by a caress as I smooth my fingers into your creaming pussy? You might want to pretend you wouldn’t like it, but the smell of your desire tells me another story.”
She said no more, and kept her hungry gaze locked on his as she disrobed. She wiggled out of her jeans and pulled the camisole over her head. Just the sight of her in her lilac bra and panties was enough to make his balls tighten in anticipation.
“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off too?”
“When I’m ready. And you just earned five more slaps.”
“You are bossy.” She eased the panties, a sliver of lilac satin, over her hips and stepped out of them. She then unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor, leaving her utterly vulnerable to him, just how he wanted her. Marci’s ample breasts were a feast for his eyes and her nipples pebbled under his gaze. Even from his seat, he could glimpse the sweet moisture coating her seam. “Now what?”
He patted his lap. “Now you’ll come here and accept your punishment.” He rubbed his thigh. “I’ll teach you not to keep me waiting.”
And as Marci stepped carefully around the piles of life jackets, he couldn’t help but grin.
Chapter 11
She was following his orders.
Why was she following his orders?
The dignified lynx in her demanded she let him come to her. However, more difficult to ignore, the voice of desire inside her said, “Submit. And enjoy.”
Yeah, she felt pretty good about listening to her voice of desire right now.
Taking measured steps on tiptoe, she closed the distance between them and glared at him. Arrogant beast. He couldn’t stop grinning at her. Here she was, starkers, and he hadn’t removed so much as a single sock. She shivered, but it wasn’t just from the slight chill in the air.
Something in her had changed upon meeting Anton Gaspar. The old Marci would have stayed at the bonfire, singing camp songs, keeping guests entertained. This new, lascivious Marci wanted nothing more than to throw herself across his lap and accept whatever he wanted to give her. She knew, without a doubt, she would take it all. She would allow Anton to do anything he wanted to her.
What had happened to her desire for the assistant manager role? An assistant manager would be setting a good example to other employees. She wouldn’t be carousing in a rickety lean-to.
And yet, even as she bent over his hard thighs and felt his desire thumping against her hip, she didn’t care. She wanted Anton, not another line on her résumé. Was she losing her ambition? Her drive?
No, her lynx assured her. We just want something else now.
As she pondered her animal’s words, his hand made contact with her ass in the first of an unforgettable sequence of slaps. And again. And again. She jolted at the delicious hint of pain and the mind-boggling pleasure that followed. He cupped her tingling cheek, smoothing his hand over her roundness, jiggling her. In a teasing glide, he allowed his fingertips to graze her pussy lips and she arched her back. He moved his hand to her spine, keeping her down on his lap.
“Don’t even think of moving,” he warned in a whisper.
“What’s next? Are you going to tie me up? Put handcuffs on me?”
“Perhaps,” he joked. “Don’t get me wrong, Marci. I’ve never been into domination as a rule. I just want to dominate you and your incredible body.”
Slap. Slap. That was five. Five more. She writhed on his legs, wishing the wetness at her apex wasn’t so obvious. “Not very women’s lib of you.”
He laughed and his chest rumbled near her ear, making her want to nuzzle him. “Marci, this may sound entirely Neanderthal of me, but there’s no room for women’s lib in my bedroom. Or in this shed.”
He doled out three more swats, never hard enough to hurt her, but enough of a sting to make her remember the exact size and shape of his hand. And every time he touched her, or soothed the abraded area, her heart stopped and then started again. Tears filled her eyes, but she knew it wasn’t because she was upset.
It was because she knew her heart was already his. She was lost. Or was she found, as the song said?
“Two more, angel. You’ve been a very good girl, indulging me like this. And I promise I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart.” Slap, slap.
As his hand caressed her ass, as his fingers dipped between her cheeks and explored her wet pussy, she allowed her tears to course over her face. He must have heard her stifled whimpers and pulled her to a sitting position on his lap.
When Anton spied her tears, he blanched. “Christ, Marci. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No.”
He stared at her for a moment and understanding appeared on his face in the form of a loving smile. “I know what’s bothering you, little one. You feel it too, don’t you?”
She nodded, mute, as rivers of tears flooded out of her eyes.
He pulled her into a warm embrace and held her there for a few minutes until she settled. It might have been her imagination, but she swore she heard their hearts dance in matching rhythms. He played with her hair, massaging her neck, while he rubbed her back muscles with his other hand. It occurred to her that, despite her blubbery behavior, she’d never quite felt so peaceful as in that moment. In his arms, she felt like an adored icon in a beautiful shrine.
After placing several soft kisses on her temple, forehead, and mouth, he finally looked at her and smiled. “I think it’s time for that soft bed, now. Let’s go.”
They had to walk a bit through the woods to get to his cabin. Rather than have her dress in all her clothes again, Anton took off his own sweater and placed it on her. It was big enough that it covered all her indecent parts. She picked her clothes and shoes off the floor, and then he picked her up. Carrying her, he took her back to his cabin.
They barely made it over the stoop before Marci realized she was falling in love with him.
* * * *
As he locked the door to the cabin behind them, Anton’s head began to pound. His little exercise of domination in the shed had been meant to establish some sort of control over their relationship, but it made him feel more at a loss.
Seeing her like that, so vulnerable and beautiful, he’d known it would affect him. But when she began to cry, overwhelmed by emotions that already cut him to the quick, it had been too much to endure. She’d unmanned him with a few tears, with her streaked face. He was a fool if he thought he was in control here. Marci owned his heart. With one word, one look, she could bruise him, kill him.
He loved her. From the first moment he’d caught her scent on the air, he’d ne
eded her, and now he was entirely devoted to her.
He watched, feeling as lost as a hiker with a broken compass, as she wriggled out of his sweater and lay naked across his bed. He drew closer to the bed, captured by her fragile loveliness, and quickly removed the rest of his clothes. Only when he was naked with her, did he feel whole. Safe. Cherished.
And he wanted to give those feelings to her, too.
He crawled on the bed and kneeled between the legs she spread wide for him. For a moment, he just stared at her. Everything about her touched him. Her shy smile. The kindness in her eyes. The way her dusky nipples grew erect under his gaze. The soft, pink beauty of her sex, so silky and slippery for him.
“I think God made you for me.”
She reached out a hand and pulled him down to her. As soon as their naked bodies touched, sparks of electricity fired between them. Their mouths came together, softly crushing lips and delving tongues. Her hands reached down his back toward his ass, forcing him into her. Oh, how he needed to be in her!
But not yet. He wanted to worship her first.
He captured one nipple in his mouth, tasting the skin he’d already come to adore. As her moans built in intensity, he nibbled and teased the swollen bud, sucking it into his mouth. Such a tasty pebble. He could swirl it round his tongue for an age and never tire of pleasing her.
“Oh, God,” she said on a breath.
He sucked harder and her wetness seeped onto his hip. This was how he wanted her always: pliant, groaning with ecstasy, and wet.
Make her ours, his tiger urged. Bite her now!
The powerful urge claimed him and he fought the need to roll her over onto her stomach, brush her hair off the back of her neck, and clamp down on the tender skin there.
Tigers in the wild mated thus, and tiger shifters were no different. When mounting the female, the male would bite the sensitive skin on her neck, proving mastery over his woman. He’d never felt compelled to bite any woman in this manner during sex, preferring to restrict any love bites to little nibbles. Mating involved a stronger, more painful bite. Often so painful that wild female tigers often scratched their mates in response. In fact, some male tigers had been wounded by their pissed-off females.
And yet, as if driven by instinct, Marci turned her head and presented her neck to him. Fever scorched his insides and his tiger clamored for her. One bite, and she would be his forever.
No. Too soon. She won’t thank you for it.
Instead, Anton turned to her other nipple and suckled, his head spinning with delight. As he licked at her, he walked his hand down her body, over her stomach and hips, and found a home for it between her legs. “So soft,” he murmured between kisses.
Marci pressed her hips up, wanting more of him inside her. He tickled her clit by sliding his middle finger around it, circling it until the little nub felt ready to burst. Each glide of his fingers between her lips made her shiver, and her delicious scent filled his nostrils. He felt his eyes burn with tiger lust and could no longer stifle the primal desire to taste her and take her.
Anton slid down her body, licking a trail toward her mound. Her perfume egged him on, almost like an invisible finger, curling toward him. When he reached her pussy, there was no fight left in him. He lowered his head, eased his tongue into her fragrant cavity, and drank her life-giving juices.
More, his tiger pleaded. More.
So much more.
He removed his mouth, just for a moment, and dizziness swept through him.
Marci shouted, “Don’t stop.”
Unable to speak, or even focus, he flipped her onto her belly and massaged her ass. He dragged her closer, spread her cheeks, and admired the gleaming bounty before him. Anton then swirled his tongue into her pussy, danced it over her perineum and up toward her asshole.
When she shouted his name, he knew he’d hit the spot. He continued to flick at her tight hole while he smoothed his fingers over her clit. And just like that, she unraveled under him, crying his name as if it were a poignant ballad. Her whole body clenched, her clit throbbed, and the most delicious sweat erupted on her skin. As she whimpered and moaned, he finished her off by licking at the perspiration on her lower back, manipulating her sex until she begged him to stop.
Now. His tiger prepared to mount her lynx. He could already see his animal’s teeth on the smaller creature’s neck.
Yes. It’s right. Take her.
Anton climbed up behind her and eased her knees apart once again. Marci lay like a dead bee: limp, with no stinger. Well, he’d bring her back to life.
Not bothering with a condom, knowing only that he wanted to mark her in every way, he pulled her hips toward his body and teased her entrance with his aching cock.
“Oh,” she moaned, utterly spent, but obviously inspired to try again. She wiggled her hips below him, pushing herself closer to him.
On and on, Anton teased her, never entering but sliding his rigidness along her seam. Her groans grew louder, more impassioned, and he knew another orgasm was building inside her. Good. He never wanted her to stop coming. If he had his way, she’d come for him every hour of every day.
Only when it seemed she might already be near breaking point, he thrust inside her. She screamed in what could only be utter joy, and he was right there with her. Marci clenched, hugging him so tight, and everything in him seized. He shifted, moving so close there was no space between their bodies, and brushed aside the damp strands of hair at her neck. He took a deep breath, as deep as he could with his labored lungs, and allowed himself to undergo just enough of a shift that his tiger canines descended. The man in him stifled a cry of pain as the sharp teeth cut through his gums. In this fashion, he bit her.
Like a mother cat dragging its baby by the scruff of the neck, Anton drew her skin into his mouth, and felt her stiffen. Even as she cried out, he pierced her delicate skin, all too aware of how easy it would be to kill her. Male tigers often mistakenly killed their female partners during the mating process by being too rough. Anton made sure not to wound her and worsen the injury. For a moment, she struggled in his grip, but then he experienced the glorious sensation of feeling her submit to him. She stopped wiggling, and purred.
Total bliss.
Carried away by an emotion he’d never felt before, he forced his predator teeth back up into his gums and released her neck. With all the gentleness he could muster, he licked at the broken skin. She would be sore in the morning, but she would be his. And he’d see to it that she never suffered any other pain.
Determined to see their mating through, he resumed his thrusts, and his dick reacted with happiness. He grew inside her, and once again her body tightened around him. And when he came, flushed and hushed, she came with him. She reached a hand around and grasped his shoulder. And he held on for dear life as he spilled his seed inside her.
“Marci,” he whispered. “My kitten.”
They rolled away from each other, and almost off the bed. However, as if they were propelled by a boomerang, they fell into each other’s arms again. He buried his face in her mussed hair and she curled up against him, tangling her legs with his. For a long time, neither of them said a word.
But then, because his aching head would not give him rest until he said his piece, he moved. He turned her cheek and inspected the wound at the back of her neck with a gentle hand. It would heal. As a shifter, she would always heal from a minor injury, but it looked as raw and painful as his heart. He hated hurting her.
She gazed at him, and there was no regret in her sweet smile. “I’m glad you did it. I wanted you to mark me.”
His eyes stung. “It looks so sore…”
“It’s okay. I wanted it.” Her eyes crinkled in a show of sudden nerves. “Anton, I feel … so much…”
“I know.” He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the bite mark, and then another on her forehead. “I do too.” He smiled. “Close your eyes now, cicuskám. Sleep with me.”
She let out a huge sigh, nuzzled a
gainst his chest, and they slept.
* * * *
Marci was awakened by a strange, muffled noise, but her eyes remained closed as delicious memories from her dreams filtered hazily into her consciousness. S’mores. Spanking in the supply shed.
Anton. Marking her as his own.
What did it all mean? The marking process was an important one to a shifter. It signified possession, protection and, well, love.
Surely not. It was too soon. Wasn’t it?
And yet, upon feeling the sting of his bite, a light had turned on inside Marci, illuminating previously dark and dismal corners. If Killian had tried to bite her, she would have pushed him away, would have fought because it was wrong. They weren’t fated to be together. However, when Anton broke her skin, she didn’t even question the validity of his claim to her. Her tiger bit her and it made sense. She’d wanted it, even before she knew she wanted it.
And she’d never been quite so excited and scared. What now?
Before she could turn to look at her lover, the sound erupted again in the quiet of the cabin, and she realized it had come from him. Her head heavy, she turned to him.
The tiger shifter was a mess of blankets and sweat. Perspiration coated each inch of skin that she could see. He thrashed on the bed, and she was forced to jump out of the way before he kicked her with one of his killer legs. She vaulted off the bed, but then crept back, alarmed by the strange cries of his nightmare.
He was crying. It wasn’t just sweat on his face, but tears. With a pang in her heart, she touched his flailing arm, hoping to rouse him from the night terror. “Anton. Baby. It’s just me.”
He jerked and stiffened and pushed at some invisible enemy. “No!”
She held her breath as his eyes snapped wide open. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, and she wasn’t sure if he was awake or still dreaming.
“Anton? Are you okay?”
He blinked, and just like that, he snapped out of it. He sat up, turned to her, and opened his arms to her. She crawled back on the bed and into his embrace, running a hand over his very hot brow.