Petting Them: An Anthology of Claw-ver Tails

by Tate James

  “Waited so long for you, Butterfly,” he groaned against my neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin there, making goosebumps rise on my arms.

  He trailed his lips down my body, licking and sucking at my nipples before moving down to playfully nip at the skin of my lower stomach, making me gasp and twitch. I carded my fingers through his hair, wordlessly demanding he not stop. We both moaned when he hooked my legs over his shoulders and licked me, long and slow. Groaning, he pushed his tongue inside me then swirled the pointed tip over my clit.

  “Fuck, you taste good,” he rasped, his heavy breaths panting over my wet, swollen flesh. I could only answer with a moan.

  I lifted my head, looking down my body to find him watching my expressions as he licked and ate at me. His heated gaze, staring at me from between my thighs was one of the most erotic sights I’d ever seen. Tatum pushed me to the edge of release, but stopped before I fell over, pulling back with a last lick and crawling up my body, chuckling at my protesting growl.

  He reached back for his discarded jeans and pulled a condom out of the front pocket before sitting back on his heels between my splayed thighs, ripping open the wrapper, and rolling the sheath over his thick, straining cock. When he glanced up and caught my raised brows, he smirked, and a faint blush colored his cheeks.

  “I’ve kept one on me since the day I found out you were back in town.” He lowered himself over me and whispered against my lips, keeping his eyes open and on mine, “I wasn’t losing my chance a second time to show you how much I love you.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath at his words, but he stole my ability to respond, pushing inside me and robbing me of speech. He thrust steadily, stretching me open while I gasped and writhed under him. I canted my hips up, taking him as deeply as possible, wanting to feel every inch.

  Tatum paused when he was buried to the hilt and slid his arms under my shoulders so he could cradle my face, brushing his thumbs gently over my cheekbones and down the bridge of my nose.

  We stared at each other from inches away, panting against each other’s lips. My life in Nashville seemed so distant when faced with the devotion, tenderness, and love in Tatum’s eyes. My fears over being forced to choose if I stayed, of losing at least two of the men I loved, seemed groundless with the heavy weight of his cock inside me, keeping me in the present. Reality was far away, kept at bay by the shelter his body made over mine.

  “I love you too,” I breathed.

  12

  Tatum was a terrible cook, but the way he struggled to make spaghetti while shirtless made the too-salty sauce and the mess he made of the kitchen worth it. We’d worked up an appetite, but watching him whistle as he cooked, seeing him smile back at me where I was seated at the kitchen table, the unbuttoned jeans riding low on his hips, showing off that entirely too tempting Adonis belt, were making me hungry for more of him instead of the food he was making.

  I managed to restrain myself from pouncing on him and taking him down to the kitchen floor, but only barely. He winked as he handed me a plate and sat down in the chair across from me, as if he knew exactly where my mind was. Shaking my head, I took a bite only to cough as soon as the flavor hit my taste buds. I chewed quickly and washed it down with a gulp of water.

  “This spaghetti is something else,” I teased before taking a much smaller bite, not even attempting to hide my grimace. He gave me a look but chuckled at the face I was making. Things felt better between us now. We’d found the comfortable familiarity I was afraid had been lost forever. I was still reeling over our mutual proclamations of love, but I didn’t regret it for a second. Whatever happened, I did love Tatum, and I felt as if my heart was full with the knowledge that he loved me as well.

  He spun the noodles on his fork and took a giant bite, moaning in mock delight before he swallowed. “Mom died before I could get her recipe,” he said after a moment.

  Looking down at my plate, I played with my food for a moment before peering up at him. “Do you miss her?”

  “Every day,” he admitted, his gaze turning distant and sad.

  My phone started ringing just as someone knocked on the door. Tatum stood up and, without bothering to put on a shirt or button his pants, went to go answer it. I laughed quietly as I walked to my purse, digging my phone out of it. My amusement died when I saw who was calling, reality crashing back over me in an unwelcome and jarring wave.

  “Hello?” I answered quietly as voices filtered through the entryway.

  “Merritt, what is it going to take to get you back here by the end of the week?” my boss asked in way of greeting. Her voice dripped with whiny insistence as she grated her displeasure at me being gone. “I sent James out into the field again, and his photos are useless. There’s no emotion. The headlines say riots, but his photos say tea party.”

  I held my cell phone between my shoulder and ear, knowing she would rant for a while, and took Tatum’s and my plates over to the sink to be washed. “I’m sure there are at least a dozen good photos. I’ve already told you that I’d be back at the end of two weeks. I still need to pack up my dad’s house.”

  I braced myself for the inevitable complaining. “You know, Merritt, I hate to have to call,” she sighed with false sincerity. “I know you’ve got a lot with your aunt dying and all—”

  “My dad,” I interrupted sharply, my movements agitated as I scrubbed at spaghetti sauce. “My dad’s the one that died, Stephanie.”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes, of course,” she replied dismissively before continuing, “You know, I’ve got a backlog of photographers just dying to get in the field. I can always call one of them.” I heard the thinly veiled threat in her tone. It was hard to get the job I had, and there were always at least three dozen people waiting to claim it. I froze, staring blindly out of the window in front of me. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I knew I could find a new one at a different paper, but that could take weeks.

  “Fine,” I gritted before dropping the plate, ignoring the clatter it made against the metal sink. “I’ll be back in…” I paused, taking a mental inventory of the house while calculating how long it would take to pack everything else up. As I turned, my eyes connected with Denver, Tatum, and Krew standing motionless in the kitchen doorway. My gaze skittered away from them as I stuttered out my answer. “Th-three days.”

  “Perfect, darling, I’ll email you a trip itinerary in the morning. Bye now!” she trilled before hanging up. I set my phone down on the counter behind me and sucked in a bracing breath before I raised my head to take in their expressions.

  Denver looked crushed. His frown was deep and his usually bright blue eyes were shadowed with pain. When my stare connected with his, he immediately averted his gaze, as if he wanted to hide his hurt. Krew looked conflicted. Part of him seemed relieved to know that I’d be leaving, but I could see the misery beneath that.

  “That your boss?” Krew asked with a cough.

  “Yeah,” I replied quietly. My voice sounded flimsy and weak, like it was just begging to be proved wrong.

  Come on, guys, tell me to stay.

  I looked at Tatum’s thinly-lined mouth and fiery eyes. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me for a long moment before he spun on his heel and stomped towards the bedroom. I let out a slow exhale, awkwardly standing there as we listened to him shuffling around. Not long after, Tatum reemerged fully clothed.

  “I gotta go,” he snapped. He didn’t so much as glance in my direction.

  When the front door slammed, I flinched. It was like I could physically feel the separation between us. Everything we’d reclaimed was gone, thrown away because I couldn’t lose my job. Clutching my chest, I looked at Krew and Denver as my eyes watered. This was my fault. I’d ruined the fragile hope that had bloomed between us with a few short words.

  "Oh, Snaps," Denver murmured while walking forward. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me to his chest as he kissed the top of my head. I melted against him, clutching his shirt in my fists as I tried and
failed to stop my tears from falling. Already, I was so used to his touch. How the hell was I going to face losing them all over again?

  “You know how he is. Tatum's the grumpy one," Denver quipped.

  I laughed sadly, remembering the day I left this town. Seemed like nothing had changed. We stayed that way for a few minutes, holding each other, before I pulled away, wiping the wetness from my cheeks and straightening my robe. That was when I abruptly realized what Denver and Krew had walked in on. Tatum had answered the door shirtless and with his jeans undone, and I was very obviously not wearing anything under this. There was no way they wouldn’t know what we’d been doing. Would there be awkwardness? Would they storm out too?

  I raised my head and took in their expressions, my gaze bouncing between them. Straightening my spine, I tried to brace myself for whatever they said. I saw the moment it sunk in for them both. Denver’s cheeks flared bright red, and he blinked down at my robe, stunned, but when he looked at me there was unmistakable heat in his eyes. Krew, when I darted a glance at him, wore a hungry, if startled, expression. Those were not the reactions I expected and, yet, I was still tense, waiting for the anger I thought was sure to follow.

  "Oh shit," Krew exclaimed with wide eyes as he took in my appearance then scanned the kitchen. Letting out a troubled sigh, he stomped towards me, moving Denver aside. He gripped my shoulders, staring down. “Were y'all—" he began with a look of horror on his face. I just knew a confrontation was coming. “—eating something Tatum cooked?" Krew shuddered dramatically and wrinkled his nose.

  I gaped at him for a second before all the breath rushed out of me. I slapped his arm as he broke out in a wide, teasing smile. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Yes. And I'm surprised that I'm still alive," I joked, relieved. Reaching out, I laid my hand over his heart, silently thanking him.

  He winked and waggled his eyebrows at me. Rolling my eyes, I snorted and went back to the sink to finish washing the dishes. I purposely didn’t look at Denver as I turned. I didn’t want to know if the heat I’d seen in his eyes was only an initial reaction. I didn’t want to know if that heat had changed to coldness.

  I concentrated on the dishes as the guys talked in low voices behind me. I was more than happy to not have this conversation yet, so I tuned them out. I loved my time with Tatum, but I desperately hoped that Krew and Denver wouldn't start distancing themselves now.

  After a minute, the whispers stopped and strong arms wrapped around my middle. I knew immediately it was Krew. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling. “I like this look on you," he breathed against my skin.

  Shutting off the water, I turned around in his hold, gazing up at him to try and gauge if he meant what I thought he meant. He took the opportunity to cage me between his arms, bracing himself against the kitchen sink as he pressed our bodies together.

  “What look?" I asked challengingly, needing him to spell it out for me.

  Krew bent down and brushed his lips against mine ever so tenderly, speaking his whispered words into my mouth. “That post-sex glow, my Mer."

  He pulled back just enough to see me but stayed pressed close, so close I could feel the erection through his jeans and the thin silk of my robe. I bit my lip as need slammed into me. Krew zeroed in on the movement. A low groan escaped from between his clenched teeth.

  Denver stepped up beside us, breaking the tense moment. I let out a little cough before spinning around to finish washing the dishes. "What brings you guys here?" I asked, trying to redirect attention away from my hot cheeks, too fast breaths, and the hard nipples I just knew were visible through my robe.

  "You." Denver's voice was simple, yet certain.

  After scrubbing the last of the pots clean, I once again shut off the water and turned around to stare at the two of them. Denver was holding a paper sack I hadn’t noticed before. The moment my attention was on him, he began digging through the contents of it.

  "We were thinking," he began before pulling out a tub of cookie dough ice cream, "that we should have another one of our famous movie nights."

  I laughed as I was beset with many memories of our movie nights in the past. My dad would set up a pallet on the floor, using every pillow and blanket in our house, and we'd cuddle while watching whatever movie the winner of an arm wrestling contest picked. Most the time, the guys would let me win. And most the time, I'd let them pick the movie. It was a fun tradition, and I’d missed it so much when I moved.

  "Are we going to arm wrestle to decide what to watch?" I wondered, crossing my arms over my chest as I eyed them speculatively. I wouldn't have minded seeing their corded arms on full display.

  "Actually," Krew interrupted, "I found something that I think all of us are going to want to watch."

  He didn't give me time to ask what it was, simply rotated around and left the kitchen. Denver and I followed behind and watched as Krew made his way over to the TV and put a tape in the VHS player. The three of us settled on the couch, with them on either side of me, pressed close enough so their thighs brushed against mine. I was beyond relieved they hadn’t stormed out when they realized what Tatum and I had done, and I was more than happy to have them here with me, but I couldn't help but feel sad that Tatum wasn't here. It didn't seem right without him.

  Denver stuck three spoons in the ice cream, and we passed it back and forth as the movie started. I was expecting an action movie, or maybe even something we used to watch as kids, like Star Wars. Instead, it was daddy’s face on the screen.

  “Sweet pea, be careful when you throw the line out, remember that hook at the end is very sharp."

  It was a home movie, one filmed by my mother. We were at the dock by the pond, and Daddy was teaching me how to fish. I remembered that day vividly. I was too scared to bait the hook, convinced the sharp end would end up stuck in my finger. Dad had gently and patiently talked me through it, never once berating me for being afraid. He was so proud when I finally managed it on my own.

  Krew was sitting on the edge of the dock, kicking his feet in the water. His lanky frame and too long hair were exactly as I remembered them. Tatum was sitting a few feet away from where I was standing, watching me with a fascinated look on his face. Denver came into view, creeping up behind Krew and flashed a mischievous smile at the camera right before he pushed Krew into the water.

  Laughter filtered through the TV speakers as a couple of tears escaped my eyes and drifted down my cheeks. The younger version of myself laughed before I gasped and whipped around when my pole jerked. My face was scrunched up with effort as I struggled to bring in the line. The pink children’s pole was bent under the weight, but I didn’t give up. Once I finally pulled my catch from the water, more laughter filled the space.

  The fish on the end was tiny, barely big enough to eat the worm it was trying to catch. I pouted as the guys teased. Daddy gently pulled the fish from the hook and tossed it back in the water then bent to press a kiss to the top of my head.

  “Careful now, boys,” he cautioned with a smile as the three of them continued to tease me playfully. “She’ll remember this in twenty years when you’re married.”

  The guys rolled their eyes and pretended to make gagging noises. We were all so young that in our minds, marriage meant cooties, and cooties were gross. But now, something about Dad’s statement made me pause. He hadn’t addressed one boy in particular; he’d looked at all three. “When we’re married?” I whispered out loud, as if I couldn’t stop myself. Did Daddy know, even then, that I’d one day find myself in this predicament?

  “Perceptive one, your dad,” Denver hummed, giving me a loaded look before stealing the gallon of ice cream and plopping a gigantic spoonful in his mouth.

  “Yeah,” I replied while biting my lip. “Guess so.”

  13

  I woke up in Denver’s arms on the living room couch. We we on our sides, chest to chest. I was pressed between his hard body and the back, my leg slung over his hip and my head tucked under his c
hin. The window I could see over his shoulder showed that the sun was up and shining. Squinting through the brightness, I peered between his neck and shoulder at the green numbers on the VHS player.

  7:00am

  Denver, Krew, and I had spent the day before camped out in the living room, having a movie marathon, eating junk food, and laughing. I hadn’t even bothered to get dressed. It was perfect… right up until Krew had to leave.

  Halfway through The Mighty Ducks, around eleven p.m., he’d gotten a call from his father. He came back from the kitchen, where he went to talk, and said he had to leave. Something about his expression set me instantly on edge. I refrained from questioning him about why he was leaving so late, but when he kissed me on the cheek goodbye, I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and keep him here with me.

  “Good morning,” Denver mumbled. His morning voice was rough and deep. With my cheek against his chest I could feel the vibrations as his voice rumbled above me.

  “Morning,” I replied with a grin.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so cozy and comfortable. Being with Denver was effortless. I didn’t worry about my morning breath, smeared makeup, rumpled robe, and bedhead. I felt completely comfortable and sexy in my skin.

  “Sleep well?” he asked.

  He slid his hand between my back and the couch, gliding it down my spine and over to rest on my hip. I heard his breath hitch above me and felt his fingers flex when he came into contact with bare skin. I shifted against him, my heartbeat starting to quicken in my chest. I felt a distinct hardness against my lower stomach and froze, blushing. I turned my face into his chest so he couldn’t see my reaction to his morning wood.

  “Mmhmm,” I replied while breathing him in. Denver made no effort to hide his erection, nor did he seem embarrassed. If anything, he pushed forward a bit, as if to accentuate the fact that his dick was pressed up against my stomach.