In a Badger Way

by Shelly Laurenston

  “Shit!” Stevie gasped. She closed her eyes and said, “Shit!” again. She came. And he watched while he continued to fuck her. Watched the way her entire body tensed and her back arched.

  “Yessss,” she hissed, her pussy clenching him so tight he nearly swallowed his tongue.

  When her body finally relaxed, she opened her eyes, and gave him the sweetest smile while she panted from the exertion.

  Shen picked her up off his dresser and took her to his bed. He went down first, his cock still buried inside her, stretching out beneath her.

  She relaxed on top of him, her knees next to his hips. “What do you want?”

  “Your turn. Fuck me. Get me off.”

  Her sweet smile turned positively devious as she tightened her pussy on his cock and began to rock her hips against him.

  Shen reached up and cupped her breasts in his hands, circled her nipples with his thumbs.

  “That feels good,” she sighed out.

  He couldn’t even answer. Just grunted.

  “When we’re done here,” she went on, gazing down at him, “we’re going to need to get back in the shower. And while we’re in there, I’m going to take your cock into my mouth and suck it so goddamn hard . . .”

  Shen gritted his teeth and grabbed her hips, making her stop moving.

  “You evil bitch,” he panted out, working hard not to come yet. He didn’t want to come yet. But she was playing with him. Teasing him.

  Making him crazy! Again!

  She laughed, tossing back her hair.

  “And I’m holding you to that blow job,” he warned her.

  She leaned down, her breasts sliding along his chest as she moved her arms around his neck, and she pressed her mouth against his ear.

  “You better. Because I’ll be on my knees,” she whispered. “Sucking you all the way down until you hit the back of my throat. I’m going to make you come so hard.”

  Then she bit his earlobe with her incisor and that was it, Shen came. It was so intense, he worried he wouldn’t be able to ever stop, his hips pounding into her, his fingers still holding her hips against his. When he groaned, she pressed her mouth over his, like she was taking the sound into her body.

  And later, when they lay on his bed, panting and momentarily exhausted, Shen said the only thing he could think of . . . “Zing.”

  Stevie looked at him. “What?”

  “Forget it.” He pulled her close, resting her head on his chest. “It’s too much to explain.”

  chapter TWENTY-SIX

  Naked but clean, Stevie feverishly worked on her latest piece. Oriana’s ballet. That’s how she thought of it. Originally, she’d planned an opera and had been working on it when she and her sisters had first arrived in New York. But once she’d met Oriana and decided she wanted to help her, she’d changed the opera to a ballet.

  And since she’d approached Oriana’s troupe about the work, she’d been getting calls constantly. It was kind of funny, the way they were clamoring. Funny and a much-needed ego boost.

  Writing her work out in her third music notebook, Stevie almost didn’t notice that Shen was talking in his sleep again. She couldn’t say whether he did that sort of thing often. She hadn’t been with him that long, but the few times they had slept together, he had. Usually muttering something about bamboo. She continued to work at the end of the bed, not really bothering to listen to his sleep-induced ramblings about his food until she heard, “Come on, Stevie. Stop fooling around.”

  Shocked, she instantly looked up from her work.

  “Give me the bamboo,” he implored sleep-Stevie, making reality-Stevie roll her eyes that she’d bothered interrupting her work for—

  “Of course I love you.”

  Stevie gawked at the panda in her bed, watching him sleep-eat bamboo he didn’t have.

  She might have briefly become catatonic. She wasn’t sure.

  Putting her notebook aside, Stevie stood and quickly pulled on some shorts and a tank top. She tiptoed across the bedroom and went out, closing the door behind her.

  When she got to the top of the stairs, she heard Charlie in the kitchen and, relieved, ran down the stairs to talk to her.

  “Morning,” Charlie muttered when she saw Stevie in the kitchen doorway. “I checked with the vet. Benny is doing great. We’ll be able to bring him home soon. They sent pictures. They’re on my phone. And I’m making cinnamon buns so I don’t have to hear you bitch about how not everybody loves honey.” When Stevie didn’t say anything, she looked up from the dough she was kneading. “What’s with you?”

  Stevie pointed up; shook her head.

  “I know we’re close, but I have no idea what you’re trying to tell me.”

  She stepped into the kitchen and whispered, “Shen just said he loved me. But he was asleep. He was also sleep-eating bamboo. So . . . that doesn’t mean anything, right?”

  Lips twisted to the side, her gaze focused on the ceiling, Charlie took a moment to reply. Making Stevie wait.

  Finally, she said, “Wellllll . . . he loves bamboo. And he mentioned you while dreaming about eating bamboo.” Those brown eyes locked on Stevie. “I think it’s love,” she whispered.

  “It can’t be.”

  “Why does it bother you?” Charlie went back to kneading. “You’re obviously crazy about him.”

  “I am not! I’m in total control of this relationship.”

  Charlie laughed. “You may have marked that panda with your scent, but you have no control over the relationship.”

  Stevie heard Shen coming down the stairs. She jumped onto the stool by the counter and attempted to look casual. He walked into the kitchen smiling.

  “Morning,” he greeted them and held up his duffel bag. “Thank you so much for the fresh bamboo, Charlie.”

  “No problem.”

  He glanced between Stevie and Charlie. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said. “When I’m done with these cinnamon buns, we’ll have a little meeting about next steps.”

  “Sounds good.” He leaned over to Stevie and kissed her on the temple before walking out the back door.

  “Just so you know,” Charlie said once Shen was gone, “even when you’re silent, you’re as subtle as a brick to the head.”

  Stevie glared at her sister. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  * * *

  Wearing loose gray sweats, a blue T-shirt, and no shoes, Shen checked the garage. Kyle was still working and by the looks of him hadn’t had a break since he’d walked away from them the night before, which meant he would be impossible to deal with until he got some sleep.

  Shen silently closed the side door and went to his favorite tree; the big one by the garage. Opening his duffel bag, he dumped the bamboo under it. He tossed the duffel bag aside and stuck one of the smaller stalks into his mouth.

  Ridiculously happy at the moment, Shen climbed the tree until he found a sturdy limb. He sat on it, relaxing backward and letting his knees bend over the limb so he could comfortably hang there, his arms swinging back and forth, his fingers barely scraping the dirt below.

  After a few minutes he started singing one of his favorite songs by Creedence Clearwater Revival, “Lookin’ Out My Backdoor.”

  Why? Because he was in such a good mood and it was a great day!

  Creedence Clearwater Revival was always for great days.

  * * *

  Stevie didn’t realize someone was singing until the “doo, doo, doo”—crunch—“lookin’ out my”—crunch—“backdoor” hit her. She put down her coffee and walked to the kitchen window. She bent over the small counter in front of it and opened the window.

  Soon, Charlie was forcing her way into the small space so she could also look out the window toward the garage.

  Together they watched Shen hang from a low limb, eating bamboo and, between bites, singing.

  “I didn’t know he had such a nice voice,” Stevie informed her sister.

  “You d
on’t think it’s weird we have a Chinese panda in our backyard singing a country song even though he was born and raised in Connecticut?”

  Stevie shook her head. “No. Then again, you like polka music.”

  “It’s danceable,” Charlie snapped.

  The back door opened, and once Charlie moved, Stevie leaned back inside to see Max come in naked, half her face swollen three times its size.

  “What the fuck, dude?” Charlie asked, spotting Max at the same time.

  Max said something, but it was hard to make out when half her mouth was so swollen.

  “What?”

  Max swallowed and carefully stated, “Cat . . . scratch. Cat . . . spray.”

  Charlie’s entire body jerked and her face screwed up in confusion, but before she could ask yet again, “What?” Stevie interpreted for her.

  “I think what Max is saying is that the stray cat she keeps fighting with scratched her face and uh . . .” Stevie cleared her throat to keep from laughing. “And then sprayed on it.” She rubbed her nose. “She must be having an allergic reaction of some kind.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Charlie shook her head, her hand briefly over her mouth. “It’s just a suggestion but . . . maybe stop fucking with that cat.”

  “She started it,” Max growled out, so angry that her words were relatively clear.

  “How can you blame the cat?” Stevie asked, reaching into the freezer to get an ice pack for her sister’s face. “It has no thumbs.”

  She turned and dropped the pack. Her sister’s face, in the three seconds it had taken Stevie to get the ice pack, had doubled in size. Again.

  “Okay,” she said, trying to remain calm. “I think, at this point, we might be dealing with a combination of an allergic reaction and an infection.”

  Charlie, putting the buns into the oven, asked, “Why would you say—dear god in heaven!” She slammed the oven door closed and proceeded to tear through the kitchen drawers, desperately searching each one.

  “Wha—” Max managed to ask.

  “It’s nothing,” Stevie lied. “But I’m going to, uh, get my EpiPen.”

  Max mumbled something and Stevie replied, “I always keep several EpiPens on me. A lot of people I know have allergies, and you know how I like to be prepared,” she finished before racing up the stairs to her bedroom. She grabbed her backpack and held it upside down over her bed. She shook it until everything fell out and dug around the pile until she found two of the pens.

  Stevie ran back downstairs and returned to the kitchen as Charlie triumphantly held up a prescription bottle.

  “Got it!”

  “Wha’s ’at?” Max mumbled, pointing at Charlie.

  “Antibiotics,” Stevie explained. “EpiPens,” she said when Max pointed at the items clutched in Stevie’s hand.

  “You’re having an allergic reaction,” she went on. “We need to administer this and then get you to a hospital.”

  Since the entire right side of Max’s face was now incredibly swollen—at this point, she didn’t even look human, but more like a half-inflated balloon—she could only roll her left eye.

  “No ’lergic ’tion. Fine.”

  “Sweetie, you are not fine.”

  “She’s right,” Charlie said, grabbing Max’s arm. “We need to get you to the hospital now.”

  Max pulled away from Charlie’s grip. “Fine. Show.”

  Stevie should have known better than to wait for her sister to “show” them how “fine” she was, but who in their right mind would ever think that someone would walk up to a wall and just slam the swollen side of their head against it?

  Who would do that? Who?

  Horrified, Stevie covered her mouth with her hands, the EpiPens still held tight. Charlie dropped the plastic bottle filled with antibiotics, her eyes wide.

  “Max!” she screamed. “What the fuck?”

  Max didn’t answer at first, her back turned to them, her hands dug deep into her head. But then, finally, she faced them.

  “See?” she asked, pointing at her deflated head. “I’m fine. Just needed to pop it like a balloon.” She waved the EpiPens away. “So, I don’t need that.”

  Stevie still pointed at her sister’s face. “You do have some very angry red lines . . . in your face.”

  “That’s the infection. I didn’t say I don’t have an infection.” She watched Charlie pick up the prescription bottle. “Although why you have antibiotics just lying around the house, I don’t know.”

  “You really don’t know?” Stevie asked. “Even after ramming your head into the wall?”

  “Don’t be overdramatic.”

  “Wasn’t being dramatic at all.”

  “How often do you have to do that?” Charlie asked, pouring out half the pills onto the table. Max would take half the pills now and the other half in about eight hours. None of that twice a day for seven to ten days stuff like with full-humans. Shifters had to attack any major health problems a lot quicker because their systems worked so fast.

  “Take pills?” Max asked.

  “No. Ram your head into the wall?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied before taking several pills without even the assistance of water.

  Stevie quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, opened it, and placed it in front of Max.

  “Thanks. I guess, as often as I have to. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I’m worried that if we X-rayed your brain, it would look like you’ve been playing for the NFL for the last forty years.”

  “I’ve got a badger skull.” Max swallowed a few more pills. “It can handle anything. It’s the flesh around it that’s weak and can’t handle a little cat pee.”

  “That’s right!” Stevie laughed. “This did all start with you arguing with a cat, didn’t it?”

  “She attacked me.”

  “Yes. Of course she did.”

  Stevie heard the front door open and close. She expected to see one of the Dunns entering their kitchen, but it wasn’t any of the triplets. It was Kyle’s older sister Oriana. She had on a tiny bikini, flip-flops, a giant straw hat, and a towel over her shoulder. She also carried a large tote bag with her that appeared to be filled with books.

  “Hey, all,” she said.

  She stopped briefly in front of the refrigerator and reached in to grab a bottle of orange juice. “I’ll be out by the pool, Stevie,” she announced before walking back outside.

  The sisters were silent for a long moment before Max asked, “Are we going to have to see her skinny ass strutting around here very often?”

  “Hey!” Stevie reminded her. “That’s my friend.”

  “Awwww,” Max mocked. “Little Stevie has a friend.”

  Charlie returned to the kitchen table to make some quick breads she could pawn off on the local bears, thereby keeping the cinnamon buns for the rest of them. “At least I don’t hate Stevie’s friends . . . unlike your friends. Who I despise.”

  Stevie grinned. “Exactly.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.”

  “If you two are going to fight,” Charlie warned, “do it in the living room. Not here. But before you two start grappling . . . Stevie, she smells like pee.”

  Max went to grab her, but Stevie made a crazed run for it out the back door.

  * * *

  Oriana walked into the garage, gaping at the work her brother was doing. He was working with marble and, even she had to admit, he was good. Maybe the best living sculptor in the world.

  Not that she’d ever tell him that. Just like every time he was “forced” to watch her dance with the rest of their family, he asked when she’d last eaten.

  Stepping away from his sculpture of a naked Bo Novikov—she could only hope her brother was just guessing at what a naked Bo looked like—Kyle put his hands together, as if he were praying, and stared at his work.

  “So what do you think?” he asked and that’s when Oriana realized he knew she was in the garage with him.<
br />
  “It’s okay, I guess.”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder, eyes like her own rolling. “You are just so jealous.”

  “I am hardly jealous of you. Mostly because I’ve managed not to walk into doors . . . unlike you.”

  “I always have a lot on my mind. Walking is a distraction,” he dismissed with a wave. “What I’m asking is do you think this is good enough for Kiki Li?”

  “Whom you’ll never meet?” she asked, remembering Shen’s reaction to Kyle demanding that the bodyguard arrange an introduction.

  “Oh, I’m going to meet her today.”

  “Shen said he’d set that up?”

  “Oh, no. He didn’t say anything like that. So I stole his phone, cloned it, and when my piece was ready, about an hour ago, I texted her like I was him.”

  “You did what?”

  * * *

  Stevie heard the shower go on upstairs and returned to the kitchen now that Max was gone.

  “Did you talk to Shen?” Charlie asked as soon as Stevie stepped into the room.

  “No. Why would I talk to Shen?”

  “Because you don’t keep anything to yourself. I figured that’s why you went outside.”

  “I went outside because Max was covered in pee.”

  “Just her face.”

  “Speaking of that . . . I should put some tuna out for the cat.”

  “You’ve gotta stop feeding that cat.”

  “She’s chosen us,” Stevie informed her sister. “Just suck it up.”

  Stevie had just pulled a can of tuna out from one of the overhead cabinets and was going to retrieve an opener when the doorbell rang. But before she could answer it, Charlie grabbed her arm, pulled her back.

  “Stay behind me,” she warned, her .380 gripped in her hand.

  “Is that really nec—”

  But her sister was already gone.

  Stevie followed Charlie through the house and was behind her when she opened the door.

  But Charlie took one look—and a sniff—and let out an annoyed sigh.

  “I haven’t made anything bamboo yet. And probably won’t today.”

  She slammed the door in the faces of the two females who’d been standing on their porch.