That’s where she’d found Jonah, fondling himself. Ugh. Who did that? Furthermore, what exactly was he looking at when he decided it would be a good idea to grab hold of his dick? Heaven forbid he was interested in her dead husband.
The notion amused her, though, and she picked up the pace.
Hey, wait up.
Sorry, she tossed back. For your information, I spend all holidays with my immediate family. Hopefully in a finished home.
Don’t worry. We’ll be out of your fur before Christmas Eve.
Good. She wanted to hang photos and position her new furniture flush against walls. She wanted to resume life and until Jonah and Grant left, she felt floating in uncertainty. She was reminded of a TV show she used to watch, Murphy Brown, where the main character hired a house painter who stayed on for eight years. It worked in a sitcom where one needed to bounce lame jokes off a supporting player, but Sheila didn’t feel like laughing for the money she paid.
Good night, Jonah. See you tomorrow, and hopefully that will be the last of it. She bounded away on all four paws, kicking up sand and ocean spray in her wake. She ran the last quarter-mile home at great speed—not bad for a panther in her late forties. She bared her teeth and growled her satisfaction. She needed to shift more often, as she realized how much she enjoyed these solo night runs.
She kept mainly in human form, though, to set an example for her young son. Jimmy, like any panther at a young age, tended to take his abilities for granted. He’d shift at inappropriate times and skulk the boardwalk in broad daylight as though to intimidate people. Thankfully he didn’t yet have the size of an adult shifter like his cousin Caleb, and Jimmy’s attempts to create havoc usually ended with girls cooing over him. It embarrassed him enough that he stopped shifting at the beach after Sandy hit. Sheila, keeping human form, hoped to teach him there was a time and place for letting out his inner animal.
And one day I’ll have to match him to a good she-panther. Sheila dreaded the day. Jimmy liked girls, yes, but he had his own mind. He eyed humans in his classes, and wasn’t interested in the pictures of daughters of panthers in other packs. Sheila dreaded a mixed marriage that might threaten the future of their line, but she held out hope her son would reconsider as an adult. When Caleb married Calla, she approved because it was discovered that Calla had panther DNA that didn’t truly manifest until adulthood. She doubted they’d be lucky a second time.
As all these thoughts clouded her mind she hopped the fence into her backyard and stretched her long body, then shook away any excess sand before grounding herself for the aching shift back to two legs. In seconds she returned to human form, nude but none the worse for wear. She stood for a moment and took a deep breath, then executed a wobbling yoga pose to loosen her muscles. Yes, she needed to run more often. Shifting boosted her energy, and she didn’t feel her years. She did, however, feel sand in places where it shouldn’t fester.
The new back deck came with a small wooden stall and outdoor shower. It sounded daft to try in December, but Sheila refused to track sand into her home. She wouldn’t stand directly under the spray, she decided, but let the water fall straight while she wet a cloth and wiped down where she felt most dusty. A few seconds, then she could slip quickly back inside for a hot bath.
Damn it. She twisted the knob and waited, but no water came. Only then she remembered that the plumbing wasn’t completely connected—Caleb had advised her to wait until spring. With a sigh she exited the stall, stopping short on seeing the shadowed figure before her.
Knock knock.
Jonah crouched in the far corner of the deck, still in cat form. Sheila could swear his fangs bared back in a smile. Don’t tell me you were actually considering an outdoor shower in December.
“It’s not like it’s freezing out,” she said. “Thanks to Al Gore and all that.”
You can’t pin global warming on him. Don’t kill the messenger.
Sheila watched the panther’s head bob up and down, and she realized she stood naked before him. A sense of modesty should have alerted her to that, but for most of her life she’d shifted in front of people within her circle, male and female. Panthers had little to no hang-ups over nudity, so Sheila didn’t think much of it at first. The look of hunger in Jonah’s cat eyes, though, prompted her to cross her arms over her chest. A slight wind cooled the space between them and prickled the hair on her arms.
“Anyway, it’s time for bed.” She intended to go immediately, alone. “I’ll see you in the morning, fully clothed and ready to paint.”
Sheila, wait…
She had a hand on the door and paused. She groaned. Every fiber of common sense in her said go straight inside, upstairs, and to bed. Instead she turned and watched the panther morph into a tall, naked man with impressive abs and legs.
To say nothing of the thick, lengthy cock bobbing between his thighs.
Sheila’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, standing tall and proud and obviously unashamed. He seemed impervious to the cold—he didn’t shiver and from where she stood she detected no gooseflesh on him.
“Still a few people out here snooping around the new construction, looking for anything loose,” he said. “Copper thieves, and some tools have been stolen, too.”
She nodded. “My locks are secure, I’ll be fine. I appreciate your concern, but a common thief knows better than to skulk around a panther’s house.” Indeed, Caleb had volunteered to pace the area in panther form to discourage anybody seeking to profit from others’ misfortunes. Sheila admired how the community came together to help those who lived on the shore, but acknowledged for every twenty or so people, there was always one asshole opportunist.
So far, she’d been lucky to have no problems...if you didn’t count the snail’s pace of the painting job.
She bade Jonah goodnight again, but as she turned back to the door she felt the heat rise and slide up her spine. In the space of a second Jonah crowded her and breathed down her bare neck while his fingertips trailed down one shoulder to her elbow.
If she hadn’t been affected by the weather earlier, his touch magnified the cool around them.
“You really think you should be alone tonight?” he asked. “I don’t doubt you can take care of yourself, but why sleep in an empty bed?”
“I’ll be there. That’s all I need.”
“Liar.” He brushed against her. That thick cock, once wobbling at half mast, pressed into her lower back and rubbed the cleft of her ass. Holy hell. How long since she’d experienced anything like this? Aside from her husband, she’d been with one other man—a regrettable encounter during a past Christmas when she’d mourned in her widowhood and the guy...well, he took what she’d drunkenly offered and avoided eye contact with her every day since.
“I love when men assume because a woman lives by herself, she longs to have a man in her bed,” she countered. She wanted to sound haughty and confident, but the way Jonah undulated his hips into her backside unnerved her. Her nipples ached for his touch, and her pussy gave a squeeze as she became wet.
“What else do you love, Sheila?” Jonah cupped a breast and brushed his thumb over the nipple. The touch zinged through her and she caught her breath. “You like that, I’m guessing,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the swell of her bosom as her breathing slowed. “Do you love lying back and feeling a man on top of you, or would you rather take control and be on top?” He exhaled and shivered at the sensation caressing her skin.
“I’ll tell you what I love,” he added. “I love the way a woman looks when she straddles me, riding my cock. I love fucking from behind, too, and watching my shaft slid into a hot, wet—”
Something sounded in the distance, a slamming door. Sheila’s heart stopped and she glanced through the windows to look for shadows. Seconds later they heard a loud “Mom?” and she exhaled the breath she’d held. Her son didn’t need to see her naked with a man in their backyard.
“Tomorrow,” she told Jonah, and brushed away
from him to slip through the back door. “Finish my house and keep it in your pants.”
Chapter Three
A night of twisting in the sheets, aching from blue balls and jacked up on his desire for Sheila Houlihan left Jonah a complete mess the next morning. He hadn’t bothered to comb down his bed head or change his underwear. When Grant appeared with coffee and microwaved biscuit sandwiches he raised an eyebrow at the disheveled figure climbing into the company van.
“Usually we look like shit after the job is done,” Grant cracked.
Jonah grunted and tore into a ham biscuit, gesturing for his brother to drive. Hopefully the day would pass without further commentary, allowing them to finish the job and leave the Houlihans to their home. Sheila apparently decided her absence might inspire them. The son answered the door and ushered them inside before heading off to his last day of school before the Christmas vacation.
“Mom said you can help yourselves to the soda cans in the fridge, and if she’s not back before you leave to go out the front and lock up behind you,” said the boy.
“See, the walls look great in here,” Grant remarked. The brightness of the marigold paint stung Jonah’s eyes, and thankfully the fumes had subsided so it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to stand there. He agreed and they set to work to complete the ground floor.
By lunch break they were close to done. “You think if we work through we can just leave early?” Grant asked. “I can wait to eat.”
“Fine by me.” Jonah set down his roller and arched his back, willing away a brief pain. Amazing what one could accomplish with focus. He kept his mind on painting all morning to avoid the disappointment that lingered from last night. If Sheila’s son hadn’t surprised them, he might have woken up here, in Sheila’s bed. He would have coaxed her into the shower for a long, slow fuck under the spray, or maybe aroused her to consciousness by eating her pussy until she broke from her dreams to come.
Damn it. His cock stirred again. He shifted back to a work frame of mind. Grant didn’t need to see him trying to paint with an erection. He’d never hear the end of it. Best to finish up now and get out of Sheila’s house. He’d worry about approaching her later.
The stiffness in his pants proved difficult to will away with a thought. Better take care of it, without witnesses this time. “Be right back,” he called to his brother, and started upstairs to the bathroom in the study, one hand over his tented crotch.
❄ ❄ ❄
Sheila entered through the kitchen door so as not to disrupt what she hoped were two panthers busily finishing the lower floor walls. Her keys hit the empty ceramic bowl by the coffeemaker with a loud jangle and she called out for clarification. “How’s it going in there?”
“It’s going. Nothing to worry about. We’re going to work through lunch and be out of your hair early.” Grant had his back to her as he manipulated a roller on a long pole to reach the higher spots of wall. She watched the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex as he painted and smiled in appreciation. She didn’t know much about the Hinkleys, but had seen the younger Grant around town with a steady lady friend. Couldn’t say the same for Jonah, which Sheila found odd since in their community the eldest cubs were matched first.
Of course, if the Hinkleys planned to secure a mate for Jonah he had no business flirting with her.
“By the way, Mrs. Houlihan,” Grant said and broke her from her reverie, “my mother wants to make a donation for the Elves of Bliss thing. I know it’s kind of last minute, with it so close to Christmas—”
“Oh, it’s definitely not too late. We’ll be taking donations through New Year’s,” she broke in. “That’s very generous of your mother. How is she feeling these days?”
Grant craned his neck and she caught his smiling side profile. “She has good days and bad. She was fine this morning, though. She’s tough.”
She nodded. Panthers bled and coughed, like any human being. Having the ability to shift into animal form didn’t make one immune to disease or impervious to bullets, though shifters did enjoy good health in general. “If you like, you can deliver the toys here or to Lorraine Winston,” she said. “We’re trying not to keep everything in one place, for security reasons.”
“Actually, she wrote a check. Figured you ladies knew all the hot toys kids want.”
“Even better.” She could send her daughter to the huge Toys R Us in Times Square to pick up some things.
“Great then. Jonah has it. He had to use the bathroom. I’ll remind him to give it to you before we leave.”
Sheila felt glad Grant turned back to his work and hadn’t seen her mouth twitch with aborted laughter. Memories of her last encounter with Jonah near her guest bathroom left her shaking her head. Hopefully this time he behaved himself. “Did my son tell you there’s soda in the fridge? I’ll be upstairs, if you’ll let me know when you’re about to leave.” She didn’t wait for Grant to answer, but stepped out of her heels and padded up to her bedroom.
Instead of going in to decompress from the day, she turned at a strange noise coming from the study and dropped her shoes at the threshold. Of course. Where else would Jonah be, and what the hell was he doing? It definitely didn’t sound like typical bathroom noise.
Rather than call out her attention to him, she padded quietly to the study and, after looking in, stepped deeper into the room. The en suite bathroom wasn’t lighted, but she heard rough grunting and a low, drawn-out moan. Oh, lord. She didn’t want to know if he’d returned to the scene of the crime to finish the “job.” Definitely not the one she’d paid him to do here.
She thought about how to approach this situation. Should she surprise him in the bathroom and fire his sorry ass, or just back away and let him finish? Maybe he needed to get this over with, and he’d be able to concentrate on painting her damn house. It wasn’t fair to Grant, downstairs and working while Jonah played with himself. She shifted in place, retaining balance, when her gaze fell on a stack of photographs.
Shit. The top of one pile displayed her in all her tarted-up glory. Sheila remembered posing for the photo last year as a favor to a friend launching her business. The woman wanted to add budoir packages for customers and Sheila served as a model, shown only to people serious about having it done themselves. The pictures weren’t meant for global consumption, though she wouldn’t have been embarrassed if any were made public. Her photographer friend delivered a tasteful series of sexy snapshots, and Sheila had to admit she still looked damn good.
Yet, she didn’t just leave these out for people to find—not her son, not his friends, and definitely not service men fixing her house. Unless Jimmy had been poking around—which she doubted because he had everything he needed in his room—that left one suspect responsible for bringing this photo to the surface.
To hell with discretion and propriety. Sheila stormed into the bathroom. If Jonah had his dick in his hand he’d better hang on tight.
❄ ❄ ❄
In his mind, Sheila wore that same sexy negligee from the cheesecake snapshot, with the fabric hiked over her hips and the lace panties dangling around her ankles. Spread over the double sink of the spare bathroom, Jonah pounded into her from behind, his cock slick with her passion as their combined musk dizzied his senses.
In reality, he stood by the open toilet with the waistband of his pants pulled far enough down to expose his balls and shaft. Eyes closed and breathing labored, he stroked rapidly to encourage his orgasm. While his dick remained hard, the climax proved too long in coming despite the clear picture of Sheila’s bare ass in his head. Only when her scent drifted close did even the first tingle of excitement sting his erogenous zones.
Wait a minute.
His eyes snapped open, his gaze falling first on the wide vanity mirror over the sinks. Sheila’s stern reflection appeared less intimidating than the woman standing in the doorway with her arms folded. She looked at his face, not his crotch, and he felt briefly thankful for that. Still, her presence shocked him so much he did
nothing to cover his cock, but kept his hand curled around the shaft with one finger brushing the tip.
“I’d ask what the hell you’re doing, but the visual explains everything to me,” she said in a calm voice. “Why are you jacking off in my house again when you should be helping your brother do the job for which I’m paying you?”
“Mrs. Houlihan, Sheila, I’m really sorry. You can dock me this time since it isn’t fair to you that I’m here.” His heart pounded. “In fact, I’m going to work out a discount since we were running a bit late as it is.”
“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Hinkley. I also notice you haven’t moved to put your little thing back in your pants.”
Little!
Sheila turned on her heel and walked away. “I expect everything done by five, including what you were doing in there,” she called over her shoulder.
❄ ❄ ❄
She closed her bedroom door and sank slightly against it, letting go a long, deep breath. How had she managed to keep herself together after seeing Jonah with his cock out, stroking himself? She’d managed the “little” crack, but in truth Jonah carried some impressive artillery. She’d tried her best to concentrate on his face as they talked, but the split seconds spent glancing at his girth and the way he held it left her pussy throbbing with want.
She unbuttoned her blouse and reached back for her skirt zipper. She had to get out of her stuffy clothes and into something more casual, looser and comfortable. After a day of finalizing plans for the Elves of Bliss event and arguing over catering and gift collections with Lorraine and the rest of the committee, she’d hoped to come home to peace and a completed paint job. Now, she only wanted to satiate this sudden rush of lust that threatened to render her heating system unnecessary.
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