by Winston, Meg
Chapter Four
"You cheated." She glared. He shrugged it off and drew her cuffed hands to his chest to feel her touch. Much as he enjoyed playing with her body—and God, did he love that—he wanted to enjoy her playing with his. Something she seemed disinclined to do. "Half an answer, Wild Cat, half a release. Only fair. There were rules, after all." He arched a brow. "Unless you plan to finish that thought for me..?" "Get stuffed." "But you'd enjoy it so much more," he said, enchanted by the frustrated lust he saw in the shine of her eyes, the tight set of her lips. Nothing, really, to kiss her again. Not when he was already so close. Her fingers curled when he did. Her palms pressed against his shirt when his tongue slipped into her mouth.
She pushed him back and for a second, he thought he'd misread her. If she was pushing him away, he'd…he didn't even know. Something. No way he'd let her avoid the inevitable, not when she panted for it as hard as he did.
She didn't scramble off the couch, which he'd half-expected. Nor did she wrestle him for the keys. And if she'd considered reaching for her clothes to cover up on him, well, clearly she'd chosen not to.
Wild Cat wouldn't have stayed half-naked unless she'd intended it, either, which gave him all kinds of hope, but what had him holding his breath was the determined lift of her chin, the defiant set of her shoulders.
Her position changed, went from reclining to kneeling on self propelled momentum. Pretty tricky stuff for someone on a couch but he wasn't about to complain. Then she bent to crawl across the cushions on her hands and knees, a seductive sway in her big, white hips as she did. God, he could see her ass cheeks tilted provocatively high as she moved.
"Is that what we're here for, Demon Drew? What I'd enjoy?" She slicked her mouth with her tongue as the intent of her words hung over both of them, then pursed her lips into a purely feminine smile as he caught on. "What if I want to see what you'd enjoy?" "You," he answered too fast. "I'm enjoying you." "And if I want to enjoy you?" So much for holding the power in the situation.
* * * * Strange, how easy this was. Two hours earlier, she wouldn't have thought herself capable of crossing the couch on all fours, half-naked and heading for anyone's crotch, let alone Demon Drew's. Hell, doing this was something out of a hot, vivid fantasy.
It felt like someone else was unbuttoning his dark, heavy jeans. Like someone else's fingers were tugging at his zipper, brushing over the length of cotton covering his erection. She wasn't sure how she managed to do it without passing out as the blood drained from her head but somehow, she did. Must have, because when she touched her tongue to her teeth speculatively and touched him again, she heard him hiss a breath in.
She spread his fly. Considered the sight before her, caught Drew's sharp, male scent and its musky overlay. Knew this single suck would be the most erotic moment of her life.
Which meant bringing out the big guns. The one thing she did very, very well.
She tugged at his pants until he lifted his hips. Pulled them down to his knees then ignored them, far more concerned with the plain white boxer briefs she'd just uncovered than with getting his pants off entirely.
She laid her hand over his crotch and feathered her fingers in a gentle beat against his shaft. He nearly groaned. God knew what that noise he'd just made was, but it wasn't a groan. Not quite. Not yet.
She pulled her fingers away, letting them trail along his length. Kept her eye on the prize despite the temptation to look up when he bit out a curse.
Cat found the flap at his fly and gently, carefully, with just her index fingers, pulled at the sides until a small gap appeared. Well, hello there. She blew. He shivered. "Cat," he said, shaky and reaching to pull his shorts down. That's when she looked up. Caught sight of his eyes, dark and unreadable, and the severe intensity on his mouth, the hollows of his cheeks as he sucked in, and shook her head.Don't touch.
Rubbed her thumb over the smooth, hard skin she'd bared in a tiny, crazy-making circle. Mine.
"You don't want them off?" he asked. Maybe he would have said more, but she pushed the fabric until the head of his cock pushed through the gaping cotton.
Her tongue swirled over his tip as her lips closed over it. He swore again when she sucked in and brought the smoothness of her inner cheeks into contact with his swollen head.
He brushed a stray curl off her forehead and left his hand on her hair in silent approval. Possession.
Then she sucked in harder and pressed down, guiding him into her so he went from cotton to Catharine instantly. His hips twitched off the couch when her nose pressed against his flat abdomen. She felt the crisp mat of fur beneath the cotton and nearly sighed. Might have, but her mouth was full.
She hadn't done this in forever, so when she tilted her head to let all of him in, she had to think about it. Check the angles, as it were. God, he went in so easily considering his bulk and girth. After a moment or two, she couldn't remember anything but the feel of his erection weighing on her tongue and his sharp, musky scent.
He laced his fingers into her hair. Tightened his grip in reflex when she sucked in again.
She hummed until he swore. Slid back until just his head was in her mouth, then closed her hand around his shaft.
Her strokes were erratic. He felt amazing in her hand, like hard, hot brushed silk, the pulsing veins like ribs against her palm. Her tongue swirled over his head as her fingers fluttered.
She snaked one hand up the leg of his boxer briefs. Wished he'd worn boxers so she could get where she was going easier. Thanked God the chain linking her wrists allowed her enough movement to touch him on both sides of his underwear and that he'd worn a pair cut short enough to let her do so with relative ease. If not, she might have had to hit the quick-release latch to get things done right and frankly, she was enjoying this game far too much to wreck it so quickly.
While he had her in cuffs, he assumed he had the upper hand. Not true, but she wasn't about to prove that.
When her fingertips touched the soft, sensitive skin of his sac, she figured she'd done okay, after all. She teased him with her touch, gentle on his testes as her mouth went hard on his cock.
He groaned her name, lost it in a string of profanity that made her feel like a million bucks because when a man swore that much during sex, he was definitely enjoying himself.
He shifted, lifting his hips up to meet her dipping mouth, then wriggling a little so she could cover his balls with her hand inside his shorts.
His fingers tightened in her hair. Were almost tugging, but it felt so damned good she didn't care.
Then she squeezed his sac just hard enough to make him curse again. Her mouth gentled on his cock. The hand on his shaft stilled. * * * * She was swallowing him whole. He'd never…God. He'd had women
blow him before but this…This was no ordinary blow job. This was his Wild Cat, doing things to his dick he'd never suspected
she knew existed. Funny, he'd always imagined her to be more of a licker. Truth be told, he'd looked forward to showing her how to use that smart, sexy mouth of hers. Never dreamed she'd know all this from the start.
It would be very wrong of him to thrust now, but God, he wanted to. The urge to grip her by the hair and fuck her mouth like an animal bubbled, nearly irresistible. He flexed once before he caught himself. She moaned at the move, sent the vibration down along his dick and had him swearing again. Fuck self control. It was overrated, anyway. He clenched her curls and pumped his hips in once, twice, cautious
to catch the potential protests. None. Somehow, he wasn't surprised. Instead, she sucked harder. Her teeth grazed against that spot at the base of his head. He saw stars. The hand at his nuts squeezed again, then turned so a finger could smooth over his taint. He shuddered. Not the first time he'd been touched there but definitely the first time he'd been surprised by it.
Though any chick who blew a guy in his shorts obviously had a few tricks up her sleeve, even if she was St. Catharine.
She did it again, sweeping her tongue over h
is head as she tickled his perineum. He fisted her hair and pumped into that hot, tight throat again, sure this was what waited if he died on the Lord's good side.
"Baby, stop." He tried to stop himself, knew it was unfair to ask her to if he couldn't, but her mouth was incredible, her throat so damned tight, that he nearly lost himself in it. She sucked in response, made his eyes roll. "Baby. Catharine." He clenched his jaw and fought with the urge to spill. "If you don't stop, I'm going to come."
She paused. Looked up at him with those big, beautiful eyes and stared hard, speaking through them because her mouth was full. Of dick. He was buried to the balls in Catharine's sassy mouth and the sight of it blew him away. Better, so much better, than even he'd thought possible.
She sucked again, long and deliberate, her gaze locked on his. "Baby, can I come in your mouth?" His breath was ragged, his words unsteady, but the way she stared made him think it would be okay. "Blink if you want me to come in your mouth."
She blinked. He swallowed. Then she sucked again, the tip of her finger pressing against the tight ring of his anus, and he spilled in that gorgeous mouth.
She swallowed. Her throat tightened and shifted as she did, moving over him like the velvet fist of her pussy would when he got that far. Pleasure roared through him, all of it tied to the woman at his dick swallowing hard. * * * * "Jesus, Wild Cat." His eyes were wide. Wild. His breathing was
ragged and husky and so sexy, she just about creamed her shorts. Well, had she still had shorts to cream. "Surprised?" "That you're a deep-throater? Uh, yeah. A little." "We all need our social skills," she said, feeling a little prim, a little slutty, and really confused about how both were possible at once. "You didn't think Luke was with me for my brain, did you?" She laughed. Wished it didn't sound so bitter.
That laugh snapped something in him. He swiveled himself off the couch, pulled his shoes off by stepping on the heel of each respectively, then gyrated his hips to get his jeans to pool at his feet. He stepped out of them, left them abandoned on her living room floor, and stared at her with those wild eyes for a long, inscrutable moment. "Luke was a moron," he growled. Then he reached down, grabbed the chain linking her wrists, and hauled her off the couch.
Chapter Five
" He was a moron?" She tugged at his grip on her cuffs, determined to get away before this insanity went any further. Not that she got loose, but she tried. "You were the caveman breaking noses in public and he was the moron?" "You know what the fight was about, don't you?" "You had a moment of drunken idiocy?" His eyes narrowed. "Not that drunk. I was doing fine until he started
gloating." "Over me?" she scoffed. Luke hadn't been a terrible boyfriend but he'd never been the doting type, either. "He was winding you up because you'd had a dry spell lately." "Over the blonde he'd picked up while you were in the bathroom." Something curled in the pit of her stomach, sour and withered.
"Sorry?" "I pointed out that picking up strangers wasn't exactly model boyfriend behavior, but he just wouldn't shut up. I'd spent the whole night drinking myself stupid so I wouldn't haul you into a dark corner, hike your skirt up, and make you scream, and he'd been fishing for someone else." "So you hit him?" "Not until he…he said a lot, none of it complementary, and I
couldn't let that go." "What did he say?" She felt ill. Nauseous and faint as she remembered what she'd heard as she'd approached the two of them outside the bar. Two hostile men sniping at each other, one of them running her down. Drew, she'd thought, because how could Luke date her and think that? But now…"He called me fat, didn't he?"
Drew's lips pressed together into a tight white line, his expression grim and hostile at the memory. "He said a lot I don't want to remember."
"He said a lot you don't want to tell me," she corrected tentatively and earned a tight nod. "I thought it was you." Which snapped him out of his bad mood and straight to horror.
"What? Why?" He blanched as it added up. "That's why you…" "Kicked you out of my life? Yeah." She ached to go back and set things right, to erase the past two months of misery. God, she'd missed him. "I'm sorry."
He melted against her, collapsing in to fold her in the warm, broad shelter of his body, and the heat built again, an insistent urge to touch him.
For a long moment, they were silent, letting the mistakes of the past settle. Difficult to swallow the bitter regret at her own behavior, but she did all the same because she'd hurt him, hurt them both, and she had to make it right somehow. Then he lifted his head and his mouth pulled into a wicked grin. "How sorry?" She considered the question, half in payback for the untenable way he'd stripped her bare for conversation, half to catch her breath before the next assault. If she took a minute longer than strictly necessary to watch that wicked sparkle in his gorgeous eyes, well, surely she'd earned that much.
"You should really uncuff me now. It'll be really awkward wall sex if you don't." Which apparently set off his caveman tendencies. His mouth was all over hers. Fit like it belonged there and roped her in like he was feeding her Spanish Fly through osmosis. He tore at the corset awkwardly, like he hadn't taken off a million corsets before. Bless him, the boy was learning.
"You love me?" he asked, but it was so harsh and choppy and his hands were so fiendishly fumbling towards ecstasy that it took a bit for her to comprehend. Conversation and consummation definitely didn't mix. Notes, she supposed, for next time.
She hauled his mouth back to hers and nodded as she kissed him, not caring at all that they were bumping each other like post-prom firsttimers setting records before curfew.
Damn his eyes, he pulled back again. Frowned but not quite, some expression too complex for her quick-scan to grasp. Brutal, that he had this much self-control. She was in fishnets and half a corset and he…he was still mostly dressed. Pantless, sure, but given where the orgasms had settled tonight, it seemed unfair that she'd bared so much and come so little.
"I swear to God, you shouldn't still be dressed," she muttered, pulling at his shirt. Off off off. He went passive enough to let her tug it over his head, leaning forward and rolling his shoulders when it snagged. "Cat," he said. "Catharine." The correction had her hands stopping on his chest and looking up,
annoyed."Oh my God, how are you this slow?" He had to grab her wrists to hold her still. Felt the cuffs and nearly fucking laughed, except that it wasn't actually funny. She was in cuffs, he was in knots, and neither of them were anywhere close to her bedroom.
"Do you love me," he repeated, forcing the words out so slow, they ceased to be a question. "Since the damned milk crates." Then she attacked him again.
* * * * It twigged as he hit the bed, hauled down by one very determined Wild Cat. Not graceful or slick or any of the things he would have expected, but given the cuffs limiting her movement and the ferocity that seemed to be driving her, not really beyond reason, either.
She leaned in over him, her hands sliding up his thighs like she enjoyed the coarse hair and hard muscle, her mouth so close to his cock, he had visions of happy tears in his future if she moved just a little. He knew, just knew he was wearing the dopiest smile ever. Didn't actually care, because it was Wild Cat and she'd loved him since forever, and remembering the way that luscious mouth said "milk crates" made him want to dance naked victory. Apparently, love need not mean dignity. "What, it never came up?" "If it helps any, I only wanted your body from about fifteen on," she offered. His brows went up at the thought of a damned decade of hot, sweaty nights he could have had. Jesus. They could be married with kids by now. They could have avoided the entire ugly Luke incident. Maybe he should have been on the short bus. "Fifteen?" She nodded again. Sweet of her, but dangerous given the rough positioning of her head in proximity to his…Focus. "Yeah." She licked her lips and made him think of a dozen naughty variations on the theme he'd like to try just as soon as they'd gotten this weird confessions-ofmutual-stupidity out of the way. "Before then, I just used to write Mrs. Drew Benedict on my notebooks."
Holy shit. Holy…He'd p
lanned a down-on-one-knee deal, possibly around Christmas when he'd hopefully have convinced her they were perfectly matched, but sometimes, you just had to chuck the plan. * * * * "So we're all set then." He grinned. Not naked. Why weren't they naked? They should be. Were supposed to be, she was sure. There'd been tearing at clothes and a great deal more foreplay than she'd had with any of her dubious-decision partners. Hell, there'd even been emotions and a whole "I love you" vibe going on.
He was Drew Benedict, the hottest thing on legs in her universe, and he loved her. On her bed, half-dressed, hung like a horse and hard as amour, and he loved her. Oh, they should totally be naked now. Only he was grinning at her, watching her expectantly, and she wanted to scream with frustration at the O he'd promised with his wicked mouth and never quite delivered on.
"All set for what?" she asked, low and demonic. Come-suppression apparently made her sound like something from The Shining.
"Mrs. Drew Benedict, huh?" He half-leered, half-peered. "Still got any ambitions in that direction?" "What?" Stupid, how that was the only word she could remember. "You love me." Damn him, he sounded wistful. If he went dreamy on her now, she wasn't even waiting to get him naked anymore, just sinking onto that lovely, massive erection of his and rocking until she went Vesuvius on him.
"You're too damned dressed and I'm still not getting any," she said, then sighed at the tender look on his face. "You really don't care I'm…the eff word?"
"You're not," he corrected. "You're full and ripe and lush and I've got this crazy idea that I want to spend the rest of my life getting lost in your sweet, sweet ass. Even if you were the eff word, it wouldn't matter." He reached down. Took hold of her hand and tugged her on top of him. Didn't let on at all if it winded him when she fell, just smiled beautifully and held her close. "You're my girl, Wild Cat. Always have been, even when you were dating morons and I was breaking noses to uphold your honor. I'm a nut without you. Can't even imagine spending a Devil's Nightwith anyone else, ever, and frankly, I don't want to have to."