Cat and Mouse

by Genella deGrey

  “Question.”

  Well, that didn’t take long. “Yes?”

  “Did—? Did you say you love me?”

  “You— I— Maxwell, is that what you unearthed out of everything I just told you?”

  In one motion, he set his now empty glass down and stood. “Frankly, yes—at least… All right, to a great degree.”

  Now Katrina felt like sitting down. “Wha—?”

  “Look. I understand. I shouldn’t shut down when you need to talk. It comes down to this—when two people love each other they should communicate—and I agree entirely. That is why when I retreat, as you say, it’s your job to regain my attention.”

  “L—love…each other?” She hoped with all her body and soul that this wasn’t a gross misinterpretation.

  He closed the distance between them. “Exactly.” He put his arms around her waist, lifted her from the ground and held her tight against his chest. “I love you, too.”

  His admission melted away any other defence she may have possessed. “Oh, Maxwell,” she said just before he kissed her. “How I’ve missed you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured between kisses. “I’ve been a fool.”

  She couldn’t help but smile against his lips. “You won’t hear any protestations on that account from me.”

  Maxwell chuckled. “You know, I kind of liked it when you took control the way you did.”

  She opened her eyes and found him gazing at her. “Really?”

  His nod was nearly imperceptible.

  “Should we, perhaps…explore this new-found…submissive fixation?”

  “Yes.” He kissed her again. “But not tonight. Tonight, I only want you—no toys, no playroom, no sex games—just you.”

  Undeniable joy bubbled up from the depths of her soul. She took hold of the collar of his robe and began to tug it off his shoulders.

  “Wait. Not here. I want you in my bed.”

  “All right.” She hadn’t meant to whisper.

  Maxwell loosened his grip and her feet came to rest on the floor. He took her by the hand and they made their way, as discreetly as possible, to his room.

  Once inside she stood next to the bed and undid the front of her corset. It fell to the floor and she turned to see what he was doing. Facing her, he still clung to the bolt that he’d just slammed home and he leaned against the door, unmoving…his gaze on her body. She almost inquired as to what it was exactly that he was looking at when she realised it was she.

  Katrina Harwood!

  She’d have never thought she possessed such power over any man, but there he stood, mesmerised.

  Slowly, Katrina turned her body away from him, but watched over her shoulder as his expression became very interested in her movements. Untying her drawers, she then hooked her thumbs beneath the waistband at her sides. She began nudging down first one side, then the other—the action painstakingly measured in tiny increments—her hips rocking, dipping down and up again with each movement. Lower and lower and lower the fabric slid along her skin. Aware that the top of her bum was about to be exposed, she paused and heard Maxwell’s breathing from where she stood.

  She turned to the side, showing Maxwell her profile, and continued the dance until she was sure her bottom was exposed. She pivoted to face him.

  His gaze snapped from the white cotton fabric to her eyes. “Don’t stop,” he responded.

  “I have something to show you, Maxwell,” she whispered. “It’s very naughty.”

  He swallowed, strode forward, stopped directly in front of her, then sank to his knees. “Show me.”

  “Are you sure you want to see it?”

  “Mmm.”

  He lifted a hand, likely to assist, but she took a step backwards. “Ah, ah.”

  “Are you determined to kill me, Katrina?”

  She chuckled. “Very well.” She turned her back to him and let her drawers fall to her ankles. “Ready, then?”

  “Katrina—” In his voice she detected a plea.

  “Here it is.” Pivoting on the ball of her foot, she faced him head on.

  He licked his lips, staring at her pussy.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. She’d sheared her pubic hairs so short that one could see every curve of the skin between her legs.

  He nodded.

  She slid her hands down towards where his gaze was fixated. “Do you want to touch it?”

  He repeated the action.

  With her fingers she delved into the folds. She peeled apart the skin and revealed her clitoris to him. “Do you want to taste it?”

  In an instant, Maxwell was on his feet. The next thing she knew he’d tossed her onto the bed. With a moan he parted her knees and feasted on her pussy, murmuring adoration. His tongue wiggled her nubbin back and forth until just before she came, then he switched directions—up and down faster and faster. She opened her mouth, gulping in gusts of air until at last she balanced upon the crest of a great mountain. He took this crucial moment to suckle her, and when he did, her orgasm hit like a fierce storm. She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his head closer, pumping her hips, grinding against his mouth.

  He moaned an enthusiastic sound and when the tremors subsided, she released him.

  “That’s my girl,” he panted as if he’d been the one to climax. “I admire your zeal, my little mouse. But now it’s my turn.”

  He climbed onto the bed and sank his cock into her. Katrina shrieked as the next orgasm assailed her. Her pussy throbbed in time to the spasms of her inner muscles.

  “Fuck,” he groaned and pumped into her harder. “You are so wet.”

  “Maxwell—” She wanted to convey the rapture she felt, but the only word that tumbled from her lips was his name—her love, the one who gave her such profound pleasure. She had no idea what she wanted of him—stop, go, faster, slower? Whatever the case, she had never imagined that these glorious physical sensations were capable of such breadth and width. Her body shuddered, climbing higher and higher.

  Just when she thought she could stand no more, Maxwell increased his efforts once again. “I’m going to come, my sweet.”

  “Yes—” she panted. “Hurry. Before I shatter!”

  He called to the heavens, shouting for God, echoing the very words Katrina was previously unable to perceive.

  Finally, he shifted to lie next to her, his arm draped across her ribcage. She could have laid entwined with him in this manner forever.

  “I love you, Maxwell.”

  “And I love you, Katrina.”

  * * * *

  Martin opened the door to the newly restored carriage in front of the ship Jimmy had just booked passage on. He lowered the steps and Maxwell alighted, then handed Katrina down. They turned to watch Jimmy descend the two steps.

  When Jimmy went to retrieve his two travelling valises from Martin, Katrina looked up at Maxwell for his approval and he nodded. She crooked a finger at him and he brought his face to hers.

  “Thank you,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.

  Maxwell smiled, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned against the side of the carriage.

  “Well, this is it,” Jimmy said once he stood before Katrina, bags in hand.

  Fighting a lump in her throat that had more to do with his bravery than his actual departure, Katrina set her hand in the crook of his elbow and together they started forward towards the gangplank.

  Jimmy glanced over his shoulder at Maxwell and addressed Katrina quietly. “Shall I write?” He grinned.

  “Very humorous. You realise all communications must cease between us if you are going to disappear.”

  They stopped at the base of the ramp and he turned to face Katrina. “I’ll think of you every day.”

  “Jimmy. Don’t. I want you to go and start a new life. How can you accomplish this if you dwell on…things that were never meant to be?”

  “You’ve driven your point home, my sweet, but that doesn’t mean I�
��ll stop lovin’ you.”

  Katrina placed a hand on his cheek. “I care about you so much, but you can’t say things like that.”

  “But my heart says—”

  “It’s our hearts that get us into the most trouble.” She let her palm slip from his face. “I think it’s time you start listening to your head.”

  Jimmy sighed. “I know, I know.”

  The ship’s horn blew so loudly that Katrina was tempted to cover her ears.

  “God, I hope they don’t do that while you’re trying to sleep.”

  He chuckled. “Perhaps I’ll appropriate it tonight and hide it in the brig.”

  “You’ll do no such thing! No more stealing, now. I mean it,” she said firmly. “This is a prime opportunity to start life anew. Not many people get a chance like this.”

  “Only you and I.”

  “We are the lucky ones, Jimmy.”

  He glanced up at the ship and rolled his shoulders back. “Onward then, I suppose.”

  Katrina reached up and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Be good.”

  He stepped up onto the wooden plank and looked back at her with that roguish smile of his. “Oh, I’m always that, love.” Then he turned and up he went, disappearing through the portal.

  At once Maxwell was next to Katrina. She swept a tear from her cheek and looked up at him.

  “You’ll miss him, I gather.”

  She shrugged. “As much as any dear friend, I would imagine.”

  “I know Simmons will.”

  “Simmons, how so?”

  “According to him, your friend, Jimmy not only groomed the horses as if they were going to show, but he also weeded the herb and flower garden, polished every piece of silver in the house, and finished refurbishing my travelling coach that has sat dormant in my buggy port for a good two years.”

  “Um, did Simmons, by chance, count the silver when Jimmy was finished?”

  Maxwell chuckled. “He did, indeed. He is very thorough.”

  “Yes, well, so is Jimmy,” she murmured sardonically.

  He put his arm about her waist and kissed the top of her head. “Not to worry. Simmons wouldn’t have let Queen Victoria walk away with something that belonged to me.”

  They turned towards the carriage but took their time getting to it.

  “I must say, Maxwell, for such a small space, your gardens are quite lovingly tended.”

  “Of course. What with Walters and Simmons belonging to Her Royal Majesty’s garden club—”

  Katrina pulled Maxwell to a stop. “Garden club? You told me they belonged to a gun club!”

  “Oh, yes. I guess I did, didn’t I?”

  “Maxwell, you lied to me!”

  “Lied? No… I merely mixed up my words.”

  “What?”

  “Gun, garden… What is the difference? Not much, I’d imagine.”

  “You can’t kill someone with a garden!”

  “Are you aware, madam, of the adverse effects a good deal of hemlock in your tea will have on a body?”

  “Maxwell…” Katrina tried so hard not to laugh, but to no avail.

  He smiled. “There, see? No harm done.” Placing a kiss on her forehead, he added, “I only minced my words to make you more at ease at the time.”

  Recovering, she wagged a finger at him. “Well, don’t do it again. I want the truth from this moment on.”

  “Then I’m afraid you and I need to have a little talk,” he said in a serious tone but pulled her into an embrace in contradiction of his words.

  “What—? What’s wrong?”

  He sighed. “I’m afraid you can’t come back with me to Hamilton Place.”

  Tiny pins pricked every nerve along her arms. “Wha—?”

  “You can’t come back to the house… Not unless you agree to become my wife.”

  Her breath left her, but only for a moment. “Oh, Maxwell!” She reached up and he lifted her higher, her toes dangling above the ground. Her tears began falling like a spring rain and she pressed her face against his shoulder.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” she heard him ask.

  She sniffed. “Yes, of course!”

  He tightened his arms around her. “My beautiful mouse with the cat-like eyes.”

  Lifting her head she gazed at him. “I always thought they were oddly shaped.

  “Not at all. In fact, your eyes are responsible for drawing me to you.”

  “And all this time I thought it was my bottom.”

  “Well, that too.”

  Katrina giggled at his smirk and he let her go.

  They started for the carriage once again when he spoke, “So, where would you like to go on our honeymoon?”

  “Heavens. What a question. How long do you suppose we’ll be gone?”

  “I don’t know—a week, perhaps two.”

  She thought for a moment. “How about your playroom?” Katrina peered up at him. At his wicked grin, a searing thrill shot up her spine.

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  Sins of the Flesh

  Genella DeGrey

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  1893

  Baylian had just alighted from a near-battle with Lucifer and his hordes. Michael, his commander in the heavenly army, had expertly defused the altercation once again. ‘Twas a pity indeed that weapons weren’t drawn. It had been a long time since Baylian had smelt the fear rising from his foe like steam and felt the vibration of his sword as the flame of the blade buried itself deep into the belly of his enemy.

  Nonetheless, it wouldn’t be long before he was summoned to another confrontation. The call to arms came so frequently now that there seemed to be very little time in between those summonses. Baylian didn’t doubt that at the next meeting they’d come to blows—The Fallen would soon grow tired of bellowing ominous words followed hard by resigned retreat.

  Exalting in this latest sense of triumph, Baylian wandered the gloomy alleyways of London in the dead of night in search of… Who knew what? Perhaps there lay in wait, in some abandoned side street, a murder about to take place—a murder he could prevent. It would be another small scrimmage won for The Light.

  His keen ears caught a human whimper, female, as it floated towards him, muffled by a thick cloak of fog. Unable to determine whence the sound came, Baylian lifted his chin and inhaled through his nose. The stench of helplessness burnt his nostrils. Baylian drew his sword—the blade flared to life, familiar black-green with flashes of purple. A demon was near. Following the scent, he seeped like a ghost through a brick wall and ascended through the floor to the next flight.

  The musty space held little furniture—a small bedside table with a single candle burning low in its tarnished holder, and a trundle bed dressed with dingy, ragged sheets—and nothing on the walls but a small looking glass. From other rooms in the building came audible, passionate cries, and grunts of exertion. In moments, the realisation hit him like a blow to the stomach. He’d just stormed a brothel.

  Atop the bed was a couple. The female’s buttocks bounced up and down with the help of her lover’s hands upon her hips. Her coiffure dangled in strands down the centre of her back in a tangled mess, nearly reaching to her rounded bottom.

  Baylian stood, time and space frozen around him, and stared at the sight. The man below her drove into the girl with violence and she practically screamed with each thrust. His hands held her in place. The skin into which his fingers sank shone white and red between each digit.

  Baylian had never laid eyes on such a brutal coupling.

  “You’ve a tight li’l pussy,” the man growled into her ear, then bit down on her shoulder. The girl didn’t seem to notice the pain of the bite, but, each time the man shoved his cock inside her, Baylian could feel her agony from where he stood. Why did the man pursue her so? And who had granted him permission to abuse her in this way?

  And what gave Baylian such a fierce urge to participate?

  There was no rati
onale for it, but bearing witness to such a sadistic, carnal act made his stomach tighten and flip over with anticipation. With an intensity that took him aback, Baylian longed to taste the experience of occupying her body in the human way, to feel the warmth of flesh against flesh, to sense her soul mating with his.

  The man released a moan and, mere seconds later, he let the girl go. Baylian could still see the finger-shaped bruise marks on her hips and arms. She rose up on her hands to remove herself from him, when he shoved her to the side.

  “Get off, whore.” His voice sounded gruff with disgust as she fell from the bed onto the floor. “I’m finished wiv you.” He got up, stepped into his trousers and shoes, then pulled his shirt over his head. Tucking his tails haphazardly beneath his belt, he pulled on his well-worn, brown jacket that sported large black patches over the elbows, then shoved his dingy grey derby over his greasy, thinning brown hair.

  The moment the frail door slammed shut, the girl stood, reached over and opened the drawer in the small bedside table. She took a few sips from a brown bottle. The bitter scent of laudanum wafted towards Baylian as feminine footsteps echoed from the hallway.

  “Ruby, I seen your john leave. You ready for the next one, then?”

  “I want a bath first—with scalding hot water this time, you shrivelled-up old cunt,” the whore snapped at the woman.

  “Another fuckin’ bath? You bathe more than four whores put together.”

  “And I make more money for this bloody brothel than four whores put together, so shut it, bitch.”

  Sheathing his sword, Baylian seeped back into the alley. He swept the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated there. Would she really couple again that soon? Did she enjoy it so much? Humans were notorious for mating and producing children, even when there wasn’t enough money coming in to feed a single person. What was it about the sexual act that compelled humans to participate with such fervour, such frequency?

  Although he knew it was forbidden to directly interfere in matters of the flesh, he’d certainly like to find out. There were always ways around the system. It only took memorisation of the rules and an inventive mind to find an approach that wouldn’t get a creative individual caught. And, besides, he had a bit of time on his hands.