by Danica Avet
Chuckling at the older male’s words, Monk clapped him on the shoulder. “You can always marry a young woman to listen to your complaints.”
The old swan, one of the richest males in the parish, chuckled as well and sat back down. Monk continued on his way to the small lake where the wedding party had collected to take pictures. He still couldn’t believe how amazingly talented his mate was. When he’d seen the bridesmaids’ dresses, Monk knew she was an artist, but when Daisy stepped out, he’d known his mate was beyond amazing. He’d wanted to stand up and applaud for her, let out a shout or something to show his support of her, but he didn’t think Ms. Claudette would approve. She’d cast looks at anyone who made a sound other than a whisper of awe, not wanting to miss a single word spoken between Father Bryan and the couple.
He grinned at the memory. It made him anxious to convince Kitty to marry him. He could imagine her mother’s reaction during the ceremony and it made him want to laugh. The good feeling didn’t last long, however.
Stopping on the edge of the crowd watching the pictures being taken, Monk tried not to stride forward to punch the shit out of the tiger who had his hands on Kitty’s hips. The asshole stood entirely too close to Monk’s mate. It mattered little to him that the other bridesmaids and groomsmen stood the same way, as if they were taking a prom picture. The other females weren’t his.
But Kitty happened to look over and see him, her smile going from forced to blinding. Feeling better because he’d been the one she smiled at that way, Monk relaxed slightly.
The torture session lasted another ten minutes before someone called out, “Ram and Daisy are ready!”
The photographer let the bridal party head for the bank of the lake. Monk fought his way to Kitty’s side, sliding his arm around her waist. “Hey, beautiful,” he murmured in her ear.
She snuggled up against his side. “Hey, handsome.”
The bodice of her dress dipped dangerously low, giving him an unobstructed view of her breasts and just like that, Monk went from mellow and happy to horny and happy. He wanted to rub his face between her breasts, wallow in her scent, and follow her sweet skin down her—
“Oh my God, what are they doing?” Kitty suddenly shrieked, jerking out of his arms.
Convinced some catastrophe had happened, Monk leapt after his mate, who tore through the crowd standing on the bank of the lake. He apologized as he followed her, wondering what the hell had happened.
Finally catching up with her at the very edge of the bank, he saw she was yelling at the photographer. “You’re out of your damn fool mind! Do you have any idea what kind of damage this water could do to that dress if they overturn?”
The photographer, some snooty LA type, sniffed at Kitty. “Mr. Reinhardt assured me they’d be perfectly safe. They’ve been practicing for this surprise.”
Kitty almost lunged for the photographer’s throat, but Monk caught her by the waist to reel her in. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, never having seen Kitty get so worked up unless she was pissed at him.
“Look!” she declared in a tearful voice, pointing toward the lake.
Monk followed her gesture to see Ram and Daisy Lynn rowing out into the middle of the small lake in a pirogue. Ram rowed the shallow-bottom boat effortlessly, looking far more confident than Monk would have guessed. Hell, he had no idea what they were doing, but he had to admire how easily the lion shifter handled the small boat. Monk knew from experience how perilous the balance in a pirogue was.
Ram brought the small boat to a stop in the middle of the lake. He said something to Daisy Lynn, who laughed and carefully stood. The boat barely moved, Daisy Lynn being a bayou girl through and through. Ram was a little slower to stand, but followed suit. Kitty groaned and buried her face in Monk’s shoulder. He had no idea what she was so scared about, but whatever it was had her freaking out.
“It’ll be okay. Look, they’re barely moving,” he soothed her, even as his heart sped up.
The newlyweds stepped toward each other, careful not to rock the pirogue. They looked at each other a moment, the clicks of the photographer’s camera the only sound other than the distant rumble of voices as people at the other end of the fairgrounds moved closer. Monk could see why they’d want to get a picture like that. It was romantic with the bride and groom outlined against the setting sun. Not that he’d do anything similar. And with the way Kitty moaned in the back of her throat, he suspected she felt the same.
Then, as though they’d practiced, just as the photographer suggested, they kissed.
A sighed “aw” escaped the hundreds of people standing on the banks of the little lake. The photographer took what sounded like a hundred pictures, his finger pressing on the shutter button faster than Monk could blink.
“There, see?” the photographer said triumphantly. “Nothing happened.”
But Monk kept his eyes on the couple. Daisy Lynn pulled back with a smile on her face. She said something to Ram that made his body stiffen. No sooner did a horrible sense of dooming disaster crawl over Monk, than Ram suddenly whooped and grabbed Daisy Lynn, dipping her to the side for a huge kiss.
Unfortunately, the lion seemed to have forgotten they were in a pirogue. Their lips met briefly before the pirogue rocked with their movements, dumping them into the lake.
“Oh my God!” Kitty screamed.
Her body seemed to wilt and Monk caught her. “They’re okay, baby,” he said urgently, seeing first Daisy Lynn, then Ram’s heads pop out of the water. They were laughing. “They’re not hurt, Kitty-Cat. It’s okay.”
“My dress,” she moaned, her eyes rolling back. “My dress!”
Monk swept his anguished mate in his arms, trying not to laugh. It wasn’t funny that she was so upset about the dress taking a dip in the lake, but he had to admit it had been a priceless moment. Excusing them, Monk carried his moaning, muttering mate out of the crowd. Barely anyone paid them any attention, their laughing faces turned to the newlyweds swimming back to shore.
With Kitty swooning in his arms like Scarlett O’Hara, Monk made his way across the fairgrounds to one of the buildings that usually housed the security team for the festival. It was more a squat, concrete shack than a building, but it was private and cool and had a large sofa for quick naps. Monk juggled his mate in his arms, finally swinging her over his shoulder so he could free his hands from the yards of fabric making up her skirt to unlock the door.
He knew she was in a bad way by the lack of reaction her new position caused and he hurried inside, locking the door behind him. Hitting the switch to turn the air on, Monk carried Kitty straight to the sofa and eased her down.
Kneeling next to her, he studied her pale, miserable face. “Baby, it’s okay. I’m sure the dress can be cleaned.” Maybe. Laundry, while something he did because he had to, wasn’t his area of expertise. And the way Kitty moaned at his words suggested she didn’t believe him. “It’s not that bad.”
She squinted up at him, her dark eyes narrowed on his face. “Not that bad? My gown, which could have sold for at least five thousand dollars, just took a dip in a lake with algae and God only knows what else.” She whimpered. “And it was all caught on film.”
“But it was beautiful before that and that’s all anyone will remember. Daisy Lynn and Ram acting like asses is just the icing on the cake.”
Her lips curled into a half smile. She seemed to calm herself. “You’re right. It’s her dress now and she’ll have to just…clean it herself.” But her face twisted. “I’ll have nightmares about today for a long time.”
Unable to resist any longer, Monk leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. “Unless we think of something to get rid of those bad thoughts,” he suggested with a smile.
She fluttered her eyelashes at him, the stress draining away from her face. “Oh? How are we going to do that?”
Monk’s cock sprang to attention. “Well, we don’t have a lot of time. I’m sure your cousin’s going to be looking for you soon to help h
er out of her gown and we’ll have to dance, but maybe if I very carefully lift your dress over your head, we can work something out.” He waggled his eyebrows, earning a loud laugh from her.
God he loved it when she laughed, when her eyes sparkled with happiness. It made him feel like a motherfucking demi-god.
She sat up. “We’d better hurry,” she practically purred at him, her eyes flashing with instant lust as she reached for his belt with one hand.
“I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem, Kitty-Cat.” He slid his hands under the hem of her dress. “I’m about to come and you haven’t even touched my c—” His words ended on a groan as she closed her hand around his dick and stroked. “Damn, woman, I need you right now.”
She gave him a siren’s smile. “Then have me.”
Kitty was impressed by Monk’s care when he tugged her to her feet and turned her to face the sofa. “Grab the back,” he ordered, even as his hands eased the fragile yards of fabric that made her skirt.
Hotter than ever from the gravelly command, Kitty leaned over and gripped the back of the sofa. It had a wide seat, which forced her to bend all the way in order to reach the other side. Cool air kissed the back of her legs, traveling up with the folds of her skirt until she felt a breeze over her slick pussy.
“Stay just like that, Kitty-Cat.” He softly patted her ass. “I really like your habit of not wearing panties, baby. It makes things a lot easier.”
Twisting her head around, she saw him pulling his jacket and shirt off, carefully placing them on the tiny desk in the corner. He walked back to her, his hands lowering his slacks to just beneath his hips. His cock jutted out, bobbing as he walked. Kitty panted, her need slicking her thighs.
“It’s gonna be fast and hard, baby,” he warned as he stepped up behind her. “It’s been too damn long since I had you.”
She knew the feeling. Their last time together seemed like a dream, one she’d enjoyed the last few nights alone in her room. Unfortunately, her hand couldn’t compare to the pleasure Monk gave her. Wanting everything he had to give, she arched her back, spreading her feet farther apart in offering.
“Take me.”
He gripped her hips in a firm hold, his cock sliding along her slit. She shuddered when he grazed her clit, the pleasure shooting through her veins. But before she could recover from that incidental touch, he thrust into her. Kitty moaned, her fingers digging into the sofa.
“Damn, baby. Just damn.” He panted behind her, pausing for one moment. “So hot.”
Monk withdrew slightly before slamming into her again. And again. The hard, fast thrusts forced air out of her lungs. Soon, he had a rhythm that caused their bodies to clap together, his balls slapping her clit with every glide into her.
“Aw, fuck, fuck!” He let go of her hips to grip the sofa on either side of her, his arms caging her in. The move changed the angle of his thrusts, finding the sweet spot only he’d ever discovered and Kitty let out a strangled scream. “Kitty, mine,” he grunted against her nape. His hot breath only added to the fire pooling in her stomach. “My Kitty.”
Orgasm raced toward her, brutal and hard and without giving it another thought, Kitty turned her head and sank her fangs into the exposed skin of Monk’s arm. He shouted against her nape, his hips slamming into her ass as he fucked her harder and faster, finding that spot with unerring accuracy. Her inner muscles clenched around him, pulling him in, milking him and Monk broke.
Fangs pierced the tender skin between her shoulder and neck, holding her in place as her mate’s cock jerked inside her, bathing her with his hot, wet release. He growled, low and deep, the corded muscles in his arms tightening as he squeezed the sofa, making sure she couldn’t get away. Not that she wanted to.
Releasing his arm, Kitty tenderly bathed the punctures she’d left on his skin, her bear rumbling with love and contentment. This was what it’d wanted from the very beginning. Probably ever since Kitty first saw Monk on the playground when they were five. He was hers, now and forever.
His breath scorched her skin where he still bit her, his cougar needing to pour everything it had into her and Kitty welcomed it, arching her back to give him better access. It was animalistic, instinctive and it started with the love she had for him. She gave him her all and took all he had to give.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Monk’s fangs retreated from her neck. She shivered as his faintly rough tongue licked the mark he’d left on her skin. It took several more minutes before he was able to step away from her and when he did, she had to bite back a moan of disappointment. He couldn’t stay in her forever.
“Kitty,” he rasped, carefully turning her to face him, her skirt falling around her legs, hiding all evidence that she’d been ravished within an inch of her life by the man she loved. Monk’s eyes were tormented, yet triumphant. “Kitty, does this mean…?” He hesitated. “You’ll be my mate, my wife?”
Hating herself for having put him through so much when she first got to town, Kitty cupped his cheek. “If you’ll be my mate and my husband,” she replied in a voice that wobbled slightly. “Besides, you have to make an honest woman out of me. My daddy said so.”
His eyes widened with hope and he whooped. Not seeming to care that his pants were around his knees, or that his body was sticky with sweat and fluids, he grabbed her around the waist and swung her around. “I love you, Kitty-Cat,” he whispered against her lips. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me if I tried hard enough.”
Kitty wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. “You always were too charming for my own good, Monk.” They looked at each other, the happiness Kitty felt reflected in Monk’s eyes. His gaze flicked down to the shoulder he’d marked nearly two decades before. “I can have it removed,” she whispered.
To her surprise he shook his head. “No. It’ll be a lesson to both of us never to keep secrets from each other, or to take each other for granted. I’ll never hold anything back from you ever again.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but a sharp rap on the door interrupted her.
“What’re you doing in there, kinky little bear?” Daisy’s familiar voice called out. “Are you fucking at my wedding reception? With Father Bryan twenty feet away?”
“Daisy, what are you doing?” Ram asked.
Kitty and Monk stared at each other, laughter bright in their eyes, but they didn’t speak as he hurriedly pulled his clothes back on. She hated to see him cover his beautiful body, but they didn’t have a lot of time.
“I’m just reminding my cousin that perversion runs in the family. I just saw her mama and daddy heading off into the woods together.” She practically sang out the words.
“Your dad just carried your mom in the direction of the concession stands,” Ram said, cutting off Daisy’s laughter. “So yeah, I guess it really does.” Another knock sounded on the door. “Congrats, you two. Kitty, I’m sorry about the dress. I’ll have someone clean it as soon as I tear it off my beautiful wife’s body. See you guys at the party. C’mon, baby,” he said, obviously not talking to them, but to his wife because Daisy giggled.
Left alone again, Kitty hoped at least, she looked at her mate. “Are you sure you want to marry into this family?”
He pulled her close for a hard, fast kiss. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The End
About Danica Avet
Danica Avet was born and raised in the wilds of South Louisiana where mosquitoes are big enough to carry off small children and there are only two seasons: hot and hotter. With a BA in History, she figured there were enough fry cooks in the world and decided to try her hand at writing.
Danica is the lucky pet of a compulsively needy dog and two cats. The pitter-patter of little feet has been known to make her break out into a cold sweat.
Writing is how she gives the voices in her head a way out. When she isn’t writing, working or contemplating the complexities of the universe, she spends time gathering inspiration from h
er insane family, reads far more than any sane person would want to, and watches hot burly men chase an oblong ball all over a field.
Danica welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Danica Avet
Primal Song
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Primal Design
ISBN 9781419942174
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Primal Design Copyright © 2012 Danica Avet
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover design by Perry
Photos: Svetara, RLuxton, MidoSemsem and Conrado/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication September 2012
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