by Danica Avet
His green eyes dared her to come out to play. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Claudette close the door. Turning back to Monk, Kitty wrapped one arm around the porch post to keep from throwing herself at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a low voice to keep from waking up her Nonc Thomas.
He shook his head and still holding the iPod high, held one hand out to her. Kitty stared at his hand, part of her dying to take it to see what he was up to, but the other, more experienced Kitty warned her not to do it. Monk was charming. She knew that better than anyone. If she went to him whenever he called, she’d be no better than the teenage girl who’d given him her heart.
He crooked his finger at her in a come-here gesture, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Kitty licked her lips and shook her head. “What do you want?”
“Come with me and find out.”
She should not be doing this. She was thirty-two years old, for crying out loud. She didn’t go jaunting off in the middle of the night in her pajamas, especially when the man she wanted to go with was the same one she’d wanted to kill only days before. Yet her feet still moved forward, her arm falling away from the pillar she’d been clinging to.
Kitty reached for his hand and felt something inside her snap into place when his fingers closed around hers. He lowered his arm holding up the iPod and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans.
“C’mon, Kitty-Cat,” he said in a near whisper and tugged her hand to get her moving.
She followed him down the driveway, her sneakers protecting her now-tender feet from the gravel. Years ago, her soles would have been tough enough to walk on the limestone without noticing. City living had changed her. Closing her eyes, she scented jasmine, grass and Monk. How many times had she and Monk dropped Daisy off after curfew and taken off as soon as the front door was closed? She chuckled softly. Too many to count. And every time, Monk would drive her to the spot by Bayou Rouge where they would fog up the windows of his Mustang.
He stopped walking and she opened her eyes to see he’d walked them right up to the same Mustang he’d had in high school. It was in much better condition now than it’d been back then, but she had a lot of memories tied up with this car.
“What are we doing?” she asked again now that they were farther away from the house.
Monk dipped his head to kiss her softly on the lips. “I want to make out with you.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “What? Here?”
“No,” he said rubbing his nose against hers. “I want to take you to our spot like we did when we were teenagers.”
Kitty shivered. It was as though he was in her mind and she didn’t know if she liked it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said slowly. “This is just friends with benefits, Monk. If you’re trying to recreate something—”
He placed his fingers against her mouth. “No, baby, I’m not trying to make up for anything. I was tuning up my car earlier and I thought how much fun we used to have together in our spot. I wanted to see if it’s still as much fun as it was. That’s all. I promise.”
She studied him in the meager light and saw the seriousness in his eyes and scented the spice of his arousal. Making out with Monk in his car as if they were teenagers again? What could be the harm in that?
“Okay.”
* * * * *
Their spot hadn’t changed much over the years, but only because Monk had purposely purchased this piece of land not long after he graduated from high school. It might have been morbid of him, but he’d wanted to own the land where he’d taken Kitty’s virginity. In the years since, he would visit the small plot nestled between thick oak and cypress trees that grew along Bayou Rouge. This was their place. The place where they’d lie together on a blanket or on the hood of his car and make plans for their future together.
With his cougar’s idea to seduce her into being their mate in mind, Monk had spent the time between fighting with Zach and tonight, coming up with plans that would end with Kitty accepting another mating mark. The first step in the plan was to make her fall in love with him all over again. He hoped coming back here to neck like a couple of teenagers would remind her of why she’d loved him in the first place. He felt like a fucking genius for the John Cusack impersonation even though he’d had to settle for his old high school letterman instead of a trench coat. The look in Kitty’s eyes when she saw him had made his heart rate increase and the rest of him go to mush.
He loved her more than he had fifteen years ago and it was time she knew it.
Shutting off the engine, Monk glanced over at Kitty to see her staring out the windshield as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. With her distracted, he took a minute to take in the very short shorts she wore, the little tank top that didn’t do much to cover her breasts, and the silk robe. Oh, and he couldn’t forget the sneakers. He grinned at his woman’s feet.
“What are you grinning at?” she asked in a playful tone that made his cock stand at attention.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back, spreading his arm over the back of her seat. “Your feet. You stopped to put shoes on. Not slippers, but shoes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, when Tante Claudette woke me up, I wasn’t sure what to expect. She just said Nonc was going to shoot someone.”
“Kitty Marie, were you worried about me?” he asked in fake astonishment, pleased when his acting made her cheeks flush. “That’s so sweet.”
“Shut up, Monk Paul,” she sassed back. “I didn’t want to have to take down my uncle before he committed murder. What in the world were you thinking?”
He reached over to stroke the long length of her neck. “I was thinking that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I had to see you tonight.” The skeptical look she sent him made him want to laugh. He held it in though. Barely. “You think I don’t find you gorgeous, Kitty-Cat?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re a male who wants to get in my pants, Monk. Of course you’re going to think I’m attractive. I don’t mind though ’cause I want to get in your pants too.”
His cougar purred. She was being playful. Perfect.
“Well why don’t you come over here?” he asked with a pat on his lap.
She eyed the bulge at his groin. “That doesn’t look very comfortable.”
“It’s the best seat in the house,” he said with a fake leer. He grinned at her laughter. “C’mon, sugar, give me some sugar.”
She kicked off her shoes and crawled closer to him across the gear shift, the scent of woman and spices filling the air. Without her needing to ask, Monk eased his seat all the way back, memories of doing this exact same thing years ago crashing through his mind. Having a lap full of Kitty Chambers had been some of the happiest memories of his youth.
When she swung her leg over to straddle him, he held his breath and let it out with a shuddering groan as she lowered herself directly over his cock. He could feel her heat through his denim and her thin shorts and all he wanted to do was dive right in, but he wasn’t here to make love to her. He was doing this to show her he had restraint. He did have restraint, right? Right?
His heart thundered in his ears when she wiggled in his lap. “Why, Monk, what a big…stick shift you have.”
“Brat,” he groaned as he gripped her hips to hold her still. Not that it helped much. He could smell her arousal and almost taste the honey between her legs. “You know, I never did get to taste you,” he mused out loud. She went still on top of him. “I spent hours and hours jerking off as a teenager thinking about burying my face in your pussy, lapping at you until you came.” Her scent grew stronger and her nipples hardened beneath her tank top. “It was my number-one fantasy, followed by taking you in every position known to man.”
Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders, her hips grinding a wicked little circle against his denim-covered cock. “And now? What’s your number-one fantasy?”
To mark you again and make you mine, this ti
me forever. The words were there on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. She’d only go back to defense mode if she suspected he was doing any of this to mate her again. Instead, he said, “It’s still my number-one fantasy, except this time I’d lay you out on the hood of the car and eat you out that way.”
The way she shivered told him she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea, but February was still a little too cool for that kind of play. If he could convince her to stay home, he’d wait until March or April to make love to her on the hood. For now though, he’d play with her and hopefully keep his cock in his pants.
Kitty looked down at him, her dark eyes wide, her lips parted on panted breaths. “Kiss me, Monk.”
He slid his hands into her short hair, cupping the back of her skull. He kissed her with everything he had, trying to convey to her exactly how much he needed her, loved her and wanted her. He tried to tell her with the almost reverent way he brushed his lips against hers, in the way he kissed the corners of her mouth, or when he nibbled on her bottom lip. She was gasping by the time his tongue delved between her lips, her sweet and spicy taste flooding him.
Her hands scrambled against his shoulders, clutching him tighter to her, her breasts pressed into his chest. The heat in the car was getting unbearable as his temperature began to rise. Remembering he still wore his jacket, Monk tried to get out of the fucking torture device, but it was too tight in the shoulders now. He’d had to strain to get in it in the first place.
His flailing tore his mouth from Kitty’s and one of his hands slapped her shoulder. “Ow! What are you doing?” she asked in a breathless voice.
“I’m trying,” he grunted and sat forward only to press her into the steering wheel, or rather the horn, which let out a loud bleat, “fuck.” He sat back against his seat. “I’m trying to get out of this fucking jacket.”
He grunted again, still struggling with the sleeves when he felt her shaking against him. Startled, he looked up to see she had her hand pressed over her mouth, her eyes wide with laughter as she giggled.
“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asked, relaxing back against his seat. She nodded with her hand still over her mouth, looking so damn beautiful it made his heart ache. He smiled at her. “It’s probably a good thing I couldn’t get out of this jacket because I didn’t bring you here to make love to you.”
Her laughter died. “You didn’t?”
Monk shook his head, his hands coming to rest on her bare knees. “Nope. I came here to make out with you. Clothes on.”
She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “But I’m horny now.”
He coasted his hands up her long, silken thighs. “I can take care of that,” he murmured as he came closer and closer to the edge of her shorts. “Lift your shirt over your breasts.”
“No. You said clothes on,” she told him with that damn stubborn tilt to her chin.
He shrugged, his thumbs flirting beneath the edge of her shorts, close to the wet heat of her cunt. “That’s okay, I can work around that.”
Leaning forward, he captured one of her hard nipples through the thin material of her top, his thumbs finding her slick flesh. She wasn’t wearing panties. Again. He almost came right then and there. He definitely liked this new Kitty. Hell, he loved her and not just because she seemed to have developed an aversion to underwear. She was smart and funny and tough.
“Oh God,” she moaned, her back arching in an offer to him. “Monk.”
He fucking loved hearing her say his name like that too. To reward her, he slid one of his hands beneath the gaping material of her shorts to touch her pussy. With her legs straddling his hips, her sleek lips were spread open, exposed. And all his.
“Oh yes.” More honey coated his fingers where he skimmed them over her labia. “Please make me come.”
He could totally do that. He gave her nipple one sharp bite that made her cry out and sat back. He had to watch this, watch her come apart. And it was a sight well worth leaving her breasts for.
Kitty’s face was slack with pleasure, her eyes heavy-lidded as she stared back at him. She didn’t try to close her legs, or try to shy away from him. No, she arched her back even more, her hands sliding up her torso to play with her nipples as he fingered her slick sex. Monk glanced down to watch his hand under the leg of her shorts, the way her thighs tensed as his thumb found her clit and circled. He glanced up again to study her expressions as he eased two fingers in her tight pussy, the muscles clamping hard around him.
She had her bottom lip between her teeth, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in air. Her eyelids fluttered as he set up a fast rhythm, fucking her hard with his fingers, his thumb circling endlessly. She pinched her nipples, a cry escaping her as her inner muscles tensed.
“Monk,” she breathed, her hips rocking as she rode his fingers. “More.” A hiccupping breath. “More, please give me more.”
“I’ll give you anything you want, baby, always.” Hoping she hadn’t heard the vow in his words or the reverence in his voice, he gave her three fingers, stretching her pussy. “Fuck, Kitty-Cat, you’re so tight and wet. You’re soaking my hand.”
“Mm-hmm. Uh-huh, okay.”
He reached over to pull her shorts completely to the side, watching his fingers tunnel in and out of her pussy. “You’re all pink and shiny,” he said, his cock leaving a damp spot on the front of his jeans. He was going to come just from fingering her. “Look at you, all hungry.” He flicked the edge of his fingernail over her clit. She let out a strangled scream, her arousal thick in the air. “Are you gonna come for me, Kitty-Cat?”
She rode his fingers faster, her hips bucking in time with his thrusts. “Yeah, yeah.” A gasping cry. “Yeah! I’m coming.”
But he could already feel her clamping around his fingers, her tight muscles nearly snapping his bones in half. Awed by her response, he glanced up to see her mouth open on a silent scream, her eyes wide with shocked pleasure. Thrusting against her clenching, Monk gave it to her harder, faster, his fingers searching out that spot that made her lose her mind yesterday. When he found it, he tapped it once. She jumped. Twice, she squeaked. The third time, she wailed, her hands leaving her breasts to grab his shoulders as her entire body shuddered with the force of her orgasm.
It was amazing and heady to know he could bring her that much pleasure. Sure, his balls felt as if they were going to explode, his cock ached and the front of his jeans were soaked, but it was a small price to pay for the sound of Kitty’s cries, which still echoed around the car. She slumped against him, her breath coming in fits and starts, her body shivering against him.
Reluctantly, he pulled his hand out of her shorts. Her thick cream glistened on his fingers and he put them in his mouth, purring at her sharp, sweet taste. “You taste fantastic, baby,” he said around his fingers.
She let out a soft sigh, her body relaxed and sated against him. His cock still throbbed, but Monk was far too happy with the position they were in to shift her away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her close, and listened to her breath evening out as she fell asleep.
Closing his eyes against his raging need, Monk breathed in the scents of his female, his cougar purring with contentment. This was all they’d ever wanted. They wanted Kitty and her bear to feel secure enough with them to let down their guard, to accept them as the ones who would keep them safe.
* * * * *
“Kitty, we have a problem.”
Frowning at Daisy’s wedding gown, which was almost finished, Kitty shook her head and adjusted the clip on her ear. “What do you mean, we have a problem? I thought everything was going well back in New York.”
Margaret Myers, her personal assistant and one of the best seamstresses Kitty had ever worked with, growled softly. “Someone’s spreading rumors that KC Designs plans to use fur in its next collection.”
Kitty’s hands fell into her lap in shock. “What?”
“I know! Like shifters would be so crass, but that’s what the w
ord on the street is. Even worse, I think S.H.A.F.T. is involved. You know how much they like to take down celebrities.”
“But I’m not using fur. I never would!” Kitty cried as she clenched her hands together. S.H.A.F.T. stood for Shifters and Humans Against the Fur Trade and they were one of the biggest anti-fur advocates in the United States. This was bad. “I’m a shifter, for crying out loud. Why would I want to use fur when mine could very well make a nice cloak?”
“Shit, I know that, Kitty. I have Stan beating tracks to all the major newspapers and magazines explaining that we’d never use fur in our designs, but I needed to warn you what was going on. Just watch your back, okay?”
“Fuck, Margaret,” she moaned as she bounced her leg up and down, nervous energy sizzling along her veins. “This could ruin me.”
“I won’t let it ruin you because that means I don’t get a nice bonus at the end of the year for keeping you on schedule,” Margaret said firmly. “Now, in other, less earth-shattering news, the bridesmaids’ gowns are headed your way. You should get them tomorrow along with the shoes we talked about.”
The conversation drifted to less stressful topics, but Kitty could barely concentrate on her assistant’s words. After hanging up, she tried to work on the dress. It was almost complete except for a few finishing touches. The last couple of weeks had brought her a new clarity she’d directed toward finishing the two most important dresses for the wedding. Tante Claudette’s dress had been finished three days ago and hung up waiting for the big unveiling.
Daisy’s gown was slowly becoming perfection. The Thai silk Kitty had chosen was gorgeous, changing colors with the light. The ivory would be perfect against Daisy’s skin and make her glow, not that she needed much help, but Kitty was determined to make the best gown of her life for Daisy. It was her wedding gift to her best friend and cousin. Daisy would love it, but only if Kitty didn’t manage to fuck it up beforehand by working on it when she couldn’t focus.