Max stood there, completely nude and looking as sexy as ever. His mane of long, reddish brown hair hung unkempt down his back, as if he'd been outside in the wind for quite a while. Moonlight glinted off his broad shoulders and the expanse of his sleek, golden-tanned chest. Even now she longed to run her hands over those magnificent pecs and trail her fingers over his lean waist and steely abs. Her gaze drifted toward his long legs with those lean, rock-hard thighs. She knew how good it felt to be held snugly between them. Best of all was his thick, ruddy cock and the tight balls beneath. His shaft was semi erect and she had to restrain herself to keep from reaching out and pumping him to full mast.
Instead she cast him an annoyed look, only to cover the thrill she felt at seeing him. She could hardly believe the proud, stubborn cat man had come to her. And so soon. “Yes?” she asked coolly.
He held up her worn black boot and said in his deep, cultured voice, “Your footwear, madam."
"I ... where did you..."
"I was singing to the moon and it struck me in the back of the head. I believe this is the second time I've felt the sting of your boot. The first time your foot was in it and the blow was to my posterior."
As much as he irritated her, she still loved the way he talked. She was a younger generation Valkyrie, but he was an older cat-shifter. Roughly four hundred years old, though he didn't look a day over thirty-five. He still talked a bit archaically, but Britta found it to be a turn-on, especially when he spoke close to her ear when they made love. That deep, purring voice of his never failed to send shivers of lust down her spine. “I never kicked you,” she said, reaching for the boot.
"I was speaking figuratively about how you gave me the boot, as your generation says. I'm sure you recall. It was directly after our last discussion about marriage and family."
"Fight. You mean our last fight. And as for your singing to the moon, it sounded more like someone being murdered."
"Among cat shifters my voice is considered irresistible."
"As if anything about you is irresistible,” she lied. Just about everything about him was irresistible to her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of saying so.
"Funny, you never seemed to have any complaints in the bedroom."
Curling her lip, she tugged harder on the boot, but he refused to let it go. “Are you going to give me this or not?"
She pulled extra hard and he released it abruptly, sending her staggering back a few feet. He chuckled and stared at her with a sexy expression in his slanted amber eyes. She was torn between wanting to slap the arrogant look off his face and the desire to leap into his arms.
"Is there something else you wanted?” she asked.
"A cup of tea or maybe a sip of that crude beer you like so much. I'll even settle for the company."
Britta curled her lip and tried to slam the door in his face, but he held out his hand, thrust the door open and stepped inside. “Enough banter,” he said, growling softly. It wasn't an angry growl, but one that meant business. He obviously wanted to talk and so did she. “I came to see you, Britta, because ... I miss you. Do you miss me?"
She drew a deep breath and released it slowly. Miss him? They had only been apart for a few days and she was already miserable without him.
"Britta?” He stepped closer and gently cupped her chin in his hand.
Their gazes locked and she nearly melted. He was one of those rare men who combined strength and tenderness. From the moment they'd met, the attraction between them had been undeniable and over the past months it had grown into love.
There. She admitted it to herself. She loved the damn big cat, but how could they work out an arrangement that satisfied both of them?
"I want to talk to you, Britta, but first let me make love to you.” He brushed her mouth with a kiss then ran his tongue along the side of her neck.
Britta closed her eyes, her arms instinctively wrapping around him as he took her earlobe between his teeth and gently nibbled it. “I want to, Max, but will we really be able to talk afterwards or are we just going to satisfy our physical needs then argue again?"
He purred and kissed his way down her neck. His large warm hands caressed her bare skin. Britta leaned more heavily against him and stroked his back. His skin was smooth and his muscles hard. She loved the power in his body, the way he made her feel protected and almost fragile.
All her life she'd trained to take care of herself against all sorts of threats. It was the Valkyrie way, yet when she was with Max she didn't mind surrendering body and soul, at least sometimes. She knew he would never intentionally harm her, physically or emotionally. Still their differences of opinion were painful to her and him as well. Now that they were back together, she couldn't help wondering if there was some way to work out their problems.
"Britta,” he murmured against her lips.
"All right, Max,” she whispered, and he covered her mouth in a devouring kiss. Their tongues thrust hungrily against each other and their hands roamed over each other's bodies with a desperation she'd never felt before.
Since they'd split up, she'd dreamed about making love with him again. Now it was happening. Max's hands clutched handfuls of her hair and he groaned with pleasure as his tongue explored every inch of her mouth. Britta grasped his tight ass, relishing the feel of the rock-hard spheres in her hands. Trapped between their bodies, his cock swelled even more and she moaned with pleasure, pressing her pelvis against him, trying to appease the ache in her clit.
He tore his mouth from hers only to bury his lips against her neck. One of his hands slid between their bodies and into the front of her shorts. He caressed her soft mound and dipped his fingers into her pussy then rubbed them over her clit. “Max,” she breathed, her pulse quickening. “I want you so much."
"I want you, too, my love. I've missed you more than you know.” He picked her up without effort—not something all men could handle considering Britta was an athletic six foot tall Valkyrie.
Max was tall, especially for a cat shifter. He stood nearly six feet five inches and was in fantastic shape, his body rangy yet hard and sleek as polished marble. He worked out a lot and in his cat form ran miles and miles each morning, giving him exceptional endurance.
Britta grinned. She knew all about his endurance. They'd tested it often enough.
"Where's your bedroom?” he asked.
"Second door down the hall."
He carried her there and placed her on the bed, then to her surprise shifted to his cat form. He was so beautiful, his face similar to that of a panther and his human-like body covered in coarse reddish fur.
He reached down with a clawed hand and pushed back the shaggy foreskin partially covering his cock to fully expose the smooth-skinned shaft. He pumped it a few times and growled with desire.
The sight turned her on so much that she reached into her shorts and fondled her clit. Then Max grasped her shorts and pulled them off. Using his claws, he tore off her T-shirt without so much as grazing her soft flesh. His hot amber gaze roamed over her and he lapped her breasts, his warm, wet tongue rolling over one of her stiff nipples.
"You're so gorgeous,” she breathed, her hands caressing his hard, fur-covered body.
He loomed above her, those human eyes gazing at her with lust and love from his cat face. Just as he began filling her pussy with his cock, he reverted to his human form. She felt his coarse hair recede, his muscles ripple and breath rasp, though she couldn't tell if the last was from the strain of changing form or the excitement of making love. Maybe it was a combination of both.
"Oh, Max,” she whispered, her arms looped around his neck and her legs locked around his waist.
"I adore you, my beautiful Britta,” he purred and began thrusting harder and faster.
Britta closed her eyes and enjoyed the ride. Her hips met his rapid thrusts and she felt the marvelous tension building inside her, then she exploded. The climax stole her breath and made her heart pound.
Max withdre
w his stiff cock and rolled her onto her stomach. He lapped her shoulders and down the length of her spine, then he gently bit her ass. His tongue snaked beneath each cheek and teased the crevice between them.
Britta moaned and writhed with pleasure. Max covered her again, sliding his cock into her pussy from behind. He claimed her with slow, steady thrusts. By the raggedness of his breathing, he wouldn't last much longer and she hovered on the brink again, too.
To her surprise, he withdrew before they reached their destination and lay on his side. He rolled her toward him and kissed her, pressing his body closer to hers. He guided her leg over him and filled her pussy again.
Still lying on their sides, their gazes and bodies locked, they didn't need words to express their love and need for each other. Again his hips thrust toward her and she matched his rhythm. Their lips met, tongues mating, as their hungry bodies ground harder and faster until they burst in ecstasy.
They lay for several moments, panting softly, then he withdrew his cock from her, but didn't move very far away. His warm hand rested lightly on her hip, his fingers stroking tenderly.
She gazed at him, filled with love but also concern, and said, “Max, what are we going to do? I love you, but—"
"You do?” He smiled.
"Yes. Didn't you get that?” she said, slightly annoyed again.
"I did, but it's nice to hear it. I love you, too, Britta, with all my heart."
"But what about—"
"I came here tonight because I've formulated a plan that might be acceptable for us. You don't want to give up your work, correct?"
"It's not just about the work, Max, but about not having to entirely give up my independence just because I get married. It's no longer the dark ages and even back then we Valkyries were self-sufficient."
"You're right. To a Valkyrie of any generation, in particular this one, such a demand is unreasonable."
Hearing that statement from him shocked her. “It is?"
"Yes. My concern, however, is that your work will be more important than our family."
"That could never be true."
"It could be if you work for someone else. However, if we both leave our jobs—"
"What?” Had he lost his mind entirely?
"If we leave our jobs and open our own private detective agency, we'll still be putting our skills to good use but when we have children you can make your own hours. When they're very young, you can even run the office while I go out and do the legwork."
"You mean I can change diapers while you have all the fun?” she snorted and shook her head. “And I thought you might have had something here."
"All right.” Another smile played around his lips. “I knew I wouldn't get away with it. We can share the desk work and sometimes I'll run the office and change the diapers while you have fun."
Britta stared at him in disbelief.
"Say something, love,” he prodded. “Will it work or won't it?"
"Yes ... I actually think it will."
"Then—” He left the bed, dropped to one knee and took her hand, “Britta, will you marry me?"
"Yes.” She edged closer, buried her fingers in the coarse reddish hair at the back of his head and spoke against his lips, “I'll marry you, Max."
Their lips met and Britta closed her eyes.
This was the beginning of a beautiful partnership.
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Kate Hill
What do trips around the world, endless nights of breathtaking sex, and a muscular, 6'3” brown-haired, blue-eyed significant other have to do with Kate Hill? Absolutely nothing, but she can dream, can't she? In reality Kate is a single, thirty-something vegetarian New Englander who loves writing romantic fantasies. Visit her online at www.kate-hill.com, www.myspace.com/katehillromance, or join her newsgroup at groups.yahoo.com/group/katehill. Stop by Kate's Amazon blog at www.amazon.com.
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Firehorse
Mary Winter
When wildfires threaten a Nevada wild horse sanctuary, photographer Billie Mote takes one chance too many and finds herself needing to be rescued—from a man who teaches her that there's only one thing that burns hotter than the wildfire outside, and that's the passion between them.
* * * *
On the ground the walkie-talkie crackled. “Billie, I'm sending the truck up. Get your ass out of there."
Billie ignored Hank's worried voice. Her business partner claimed taking these photographs kept his retirement from being boring. As if being stuck in the wilderness tens of miles from the nearest homestead could ever be anything but. She lifted her camera, adjusting the angle of the shot. There, on the ridge, stood a mustang. The horse's gray coat nearly blended into the plumes of smoke hanging in the air. The creature's mane and tail blew in the wind, creating dark-streaked banners against the gloomy sky. Smoke teased her nostrils. Hank was right. She needed to get out of there.
Not yet.
The horse raised its muzzle, nostrils flaring as it scented the air.
Billie pressed the shutter button. Click.
The horse—she saw it was a stallion—flicked its ears back and forth. Back and forth.
Another picture. Two.
The crackle of flames sounded close. Too close really, but Billie couldn't be bothered.
"Damn it, get out. I'm bringing in the truck,” Hank growled from the walkie-talkie.
Steadying the camera with one hand, Billie reached down and pressed the talk button. She hoped her movements wouldn't disturb the horse. “No,” she said, the single word erupting like a rifle shot from her lips. She released the walkie-talkie, turning it off for good measure.
A wall of heat rushed over her. The ends of her raven hair singed where they escaped from the beat-up cowboy hat she wore. She'd seen a picture once of a nightmare, a coal black stallion with flames shooting out of its nose. If she didn't know better, she'd think it stood behind her.
Unable to stop herself, she looked over her shoulder and saw something far worse. A wall of flames had topped the ridge and now rolled down into the valley behind her.
"Shit. Hank was right.” She dropped her camera into its pouch, checked the buckles securing it across her chest, and picked up the walkie-talkie. Going back to Hank wasn't an option. If she wanted to live, she needed to run.
She bolted, thankful she'd been on her high school's track team, as she raced across the ridge and down into the valley in front of her. A slight dip of land had been all that separated her from the mustang. Now, it was all that separated her from life. The scrub ended in rocky cliffs that not even a wildfire would dare climb. If she wanted to live, she'd have to go where fire didn't dare.
Her foot hit a rock and she stumbled. What the hell was she thinking? There was no way in hell she could outrun this fire!
Smoke billowed around her. She coughed. Reaching for the bandana hanging around her neck, she tugged it over her mouth. A dark shape emerged from the smoke in front of her. She opened her mouth to scream, the wall of heat surrounding her making it impossible to speak.
Something pushed against her. She flung her arm out, hitting what felt like a wall. She curled her fingers into ... fur? Grabbing mane, she hauled herself onto the horse's back. Her camera banged against the horse's barrel. She didn't care. Forgetting for a moment it was a wild creature, she jabbed her heels into its side. She tangled her fingers into the horse's mane, and with a lurch, the beast took off.
It took all her skills to stay on as he scrambled up over the rocks to safety. Hooves pounded against the ground. She clung to the creature, sweat plastering her hair to her skin. “Run,” she rasped, pressing her cheek against the horse's neck. “Run!"
The fire popped and crackled too close. Another plume of heat rolled over them. Billie pressed her face into the horse's neck and hung on. He might be a wild creature, but he was her only hope for survival.
* * * *
Water trickled between Billie's bare breasts. Th
e water slid over her skin, blessedly cool after the heat of the canyon. She gasped, her back arching off the soft blanket beneath her.
"Easy.” The male voice caressed her with warmth even as the water chilled her. “You're safe."
Billie opened her eyes, aware of both her nudity and the fact that she wasn't alone. “Who are you?"
"Royce Cooper. We're in my cabin. The flames won't get us here."
She started to sit up, Royce's broad hand on her shoulder pushing her back down. His big hand branded her. Flames licked through her veins. Her nipples pebbled from the lingering trickle of water. Heat filled her pussy, made her notice his bare chest and low-slung jeans.
"Rest. You had a hard ride."
Vague images of the powerful horse moving beneath her, of pressing her face into his sooty mane, filled her mind. Looking at the man sitting on the edge of the bed, she had another kind of ride in mind. She drew a breath, vaguely smelling smoke and the rich aroma of leather. “Was that your horse?” It hadn't worn tack, and though smoke had obscured her vision, she thought it looked like the “wild” stallion she'd photographed.
Royce smiled. Humor sparkled in his eyes, turning his ruggedly handsome face into something that took her breath away. “Something like that."
Ignoring the hand on her shoulder, just inches away from her breasts, she sat up and pressed a kiss to his whiskered cheek. “Thank you."
Royce cupped her chin. He turned his face so his lips met hers. There was nothing soft or gentle about his touch. A hungry groan rumbled from his chest as his mouth caressed hers. His tongue swept her lower lip, and she gasped at the sudden shock of lust through her system. He plunged his tongue inside, his other hand going to her nape to tangle in her hair.
They shouldn't be doing this. She hardly knew him. And yet, somehow, he'd managed to whisk her to safety from the fires. Hank would be worried about her, but all she could think about was how well Royce would fill the empty places inside her. All of them.
His free hand swept the length of her spine, his fingers caressing her naked buttocks. She shivered, wondering why she was naked and he wasn't. Perhaps the fire had singed her clothes, or maybe he thought she'd be cooler without them. No matter the reason, the fact that she could rub her nipples against his chest made her moan with pleasure. She grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.
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