by Cynthia Sax
Four fucking times. He hadn’t had that reaction to a female… ever, not even in his horny youth. Royce suspected what his constant arousal meant.
Mate. His lion raked his claws over him, irritated over being ignored, both of them achingly conscious of every move their plush female made.
Starr strode across his office, appearing as fresh as she had this morning, her smile wide, her brown curls bouncing, her generous breasts pushing at the confines of her new black blazer, the sales tag dangling from one sleeve. Gods, I’m a lucky male.
She placed a mug of coffee on his desk, her special blend of java as addictive as she was. “I brought you a refill, boss.” Starr perched on the edge of his desk, her legs delightfully pale, the musk of wet pussy and steaming coffee scattering his few remaining thoughts.
“Good. That should get me to…” Royce glanced at his watch and groaned. “Shit. It’s two a.m. If I drink this, I’ll be up all night.” He was up right now, his cock pressing against the zipper of his dress pants.
“I switched your coffee to decaf three hours ago.” Starr straightened his stapler, lining it up parallel to the wood grain.
“Then you must be the reason I’m up.” He caught her constantly moving hand and rubbed her knuckles against his jaw, grinding his scent into her pale skin.
“Am I?” Her big honey-brown eyes glowed, her lashes long and dark.
“Yes.” I’ll fuck her one more time, and then I’ll focus on work. Royce pulled her onto his lap and tugged her skirt up to allow her to straddle him, her silk panties pressing against the ridge in his pants. “You’re incredible.” He kneaded her ass and buried his face in her breasts, savoring her curves, her body soft and welcoming.
“Boss, your brother is still here.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the open doorway, her cheeks streaked pink. “And you have work to do.” Starr cupped his face, her fingertips intriguingly rough, his mate accustomed to working hard, a trait he admired. “The client is coming in tomorrow morning bright and early.”
“Damn technology companies,” he grumbled, fixing his gaze on the deep valley between her breasts. If I rested my head there for a few more moments…
“The copy, Royce,” Starr reminded him. “We need a winning phrase to sway the client. You told me that was important to the firm, to your pride,” she whispered as though it were a secret only they shared, her breath caressing his cheek.
The pride wasn’t a secret -- his brothers and most of their employees were fellow lion-shifters. “I want you so much, I’m ready to explode.”
“Let me handle the explosion.” She slid down his legs onto the hardwood floor and backed under the desk. “Would your brother be able to see me here?” She gazed up at Royce, trusting him to protect her from any embarrassment.
He would. He’d protect her with his life. “I’ll hear him approach.” Royce lowered his chair and spread his legs, shielding his curvaceous mate. “He won’t see you. I give you my word.”
“Good.” Starr reached up and stroked his hard cock through his pants, her touch divine. “You work on the copy. I’ll help you get those creative juices flowing.”
“You’ll get juices flowing all right,” he rumbled, sinking deeper into his leather chair, the tension easing from his shoulders. I can work and find release at the same time. She tapped his tip, and he moaned softly. Why did I resist this, her? She worked him from balls to cockhead and his lion purred, pleased by her petting.
Starr unzipped his pants, freeing his cock, underwear deemed unnecessary by the end of her first day. Royce rolled his head back as she wrapped her rough fingers around him, gripping him firmly, taking his desire, his need, his loneliness in hand.
Starr swiped her thumb over his cockhead, glazing his skin with precum, and he shuddered. “The copy, boss,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. She pumped him and he stared at the paper, the words dancing in front of him.
Starr cupped his aching balls, and Royce gritted his teeth. The client wants sexy. This copy isn’t sexy. She licked his tip, her tongue wet and rough, and his fingers curled into fists. Starr is sexy, so fuckin’ sexy.
She sucked him into her hot mouth and Royce groaned, fighting the urge to come, wanting to prolong this bliss, to stay inside her forever. Starr sank down on his cock, taking every inch of him, humming softly, her lips vibrating.
God, if I wrote this into copy, every man would want what I was selling, would want Starr, my beautiful assistant, my mate. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His tip bumped against the back of her throat. She closed her lips around his base and sucked, inhaling him, connecting the two of them in a way he’d never felt with anyone else.
Sexy. Sure. Smooth. Hot. Royce picked up a pen and spewed words over the white page, jotting down anything, everything, not thinking, only feeling. She bobbed over him, working his shaft and balls with her hands and mouth.
Tight. Wet. Soft. Strong. He wrote faster and faster, matching her rhythm. His animal panted and golden fur covered his hands, claws extending from his fingertips, the tips digging into the pen. His cock grew larger, his girth stretching Starr’s lips, and she moaned, the sound flowing over his skin.
“Starr.” His pen snapped, ink spraying the surface of the desk, staining his fingers black. “I’m going to come,” he warned, his control fragmented, caving under the exquisite pressure of her mouth.
Starr surged forward, taking him completely, graciously, generously accepting all of him, his human and his lion. She sealed her lips around his shaft and sucked hard, breaking him into a million pieces.
“Starr,” he bellowed, raising his hips into her sweet suction, coming hard, filling her mouth with his hot cum, rattling the windows with his roar. She sucked and sucked and sucked, swallowing, her throat convulsing, her cheeks indented. Starr took everything he had, leaving him with nothing, his brain as empty as his cock.
He closed his eyes, his breathing leveling, his heartbeat slowing, his body relaxed, so fuckin’ relaxed. “You’re amazing. I don’t know how you do it.”
“I have many talents.” Starr grinned up at him, her face flushed, a brown curl dangling over one eye. “Tissue.” She held out her hand.
Royce extracted three tissues from the box behind him and pressed them into her hand, sweeping his thumb over her fingers in a silent thank you. She breathed in sharply, her responsiveness thrilling him, her smile wavering. “Your fingers are black.” Her husky voice curled around him.
“The pen broke.” He watched her, his lion purring with satisfaction, as she cleaned him, taking care of him as she had for the past three days, allowing him to focus on his work, his firm, his pride.
Her pride too, his lion rumbled, embracing the mate they hadn’t time for. Royce frowned at the ink-stained paper, his work not done, the copy remaining weak. “I must…” He waved his hand, guilt arresting his words.
“Work.” Starr tucked his semi-hard cock into his pants, her touch divine. “I understand, boss.”
She does. Royce met her gaze, her support shining in her eyes. “You’re perfect,” he replied, without thinking, the emotion overwhelming his tired brain.
Starr’s beautiful face turned pink. “Only the best for my boss.” She wiggled out from underneath the desk and straightened, indents from the hardwood crisscrossing her pale knees. “I’ll remember that perfect comment during my annual review.”
Royce chuckled and focused on the copy, his heart light, his creative juices revived. When the time was right, when the pride was strong and the firm was healthy, he’d make their relationship public.
Until then, there was no rush to claim her. He dashed sentences onto the page as Starr sopped up the ink with paper towels. She was his mate, his assistant, and she wasn’t going anywhere, her place by his side.
Chapter Four
Starr waited for a break in the presentation and carefully walked into the boardroom, balancing a coffeepot and a cup of tea on her tray. The heavy tan curtains draped in front of the fl
oor-to-ceiling windows blocked the morning sun, creating a cozy den-like setting, the lights dimmed, the focus on the illuminated whiteboard at the front of the room.
Royce, king of the domain, lounged at the end of the table, his head held regally high and his shoulders squared. His two brothers sat to his left, fidgeting with the images and handouts spread over the wooden surface. Nikhil Baagh, the CEO of Tiger Tech, the client they wished to impress, relaxed to his right, allowing them to cater to him.
As she entered the room, the four breathtakingly virile businessmen turned their heads, their fit forms clad in dark suits. All of the males were appealing in their own way yet only one captured her attention. Royce met her gaze, his eyes glowing with triumph.
It’s going well. Starr smiled at him, relieved, this account important to the firm, to Royce, the man she suspected she loved. She kept that insight to herself. Her boss was already skittish about their existing relationship.
“Ahhh… the mysterious tea goddess returns.” Nikhil Baagh watched her with lazy eyes, his hair as black as night, his face tanned and exotic. “Do you have a name, goddess?”
“Her name is Starr.” Royce’s voice was cool, crisp, and disappointingly businesslike -- no hint of passion, of need, of want in his blunt words. “She’s my assistant.”
Assistant. Starr’s smile wavered. What did I expect? Here’s my lover? She mentally berated herself. Royce had been clear about her limited role in his life. Her boss had no time for romantic relationships. She set the tray on the table and picked up the dainty white teacup and saucer.
“Starr,” Baagh repeated slowly, elongating the single syllable, rolling the r’s. “That’s a name worthy of a goddess.”
“I’m no goddess, Mr. Baagh, sir.” Starr’s face heated. She placed the teacup and saucer before the flirtatious young executive.
“Call me Nikhil, please.” His long fingers brushed over her hand, his skin warm, spices wafting from his suit-clad body. Starr stiffened, fighting the urge to jump back, his touch wrong, so very wrong.
A rumble rolled through the room. Royce glared at Baagh, his face dark with open hostility. Royce’s two brothers, seated beside him, grinned, their eyes sparkling as though they were watching an extremely entertaining show.
“It’s rare to find a female with an appreciation for fine tea.” Baagh ignored Royce entirely. He raised the cup and casually sipped at the beverage she had cashed in favors to procure, his assistant having graciously shared his preferences with her.
“At Leone Media, we care about our clients’ desires,” Starr murmured, hoping that was the right thing to say. Royce’s mood this morning was extremely volatile, his reaction to Baagh’s touching bordering on possessive.
Which is insane. She glanced at her boss. As I’m merely his assistant.
“You do seem to know my desires, a bit too well.” Baagh’s catlike eyes, similar to Royce’s yet colder and wilder, gleamed. “It was fortunate timing, your hiring aligning with this meeting.”
“She was qualified.” Royce once again answered for her.
“Very.” Baagh winked at Starr and inclined his head slightly toward Royce. What is he up to? She stepped back from the table, away from Baagh, not wishing to be a part of whatever the rising tech star had planned. Baagh reached out as though to grab her.
Royce thudded his empty coffee mug against the mahogany tabletop.
Starr picked up the coffeepot and rushed to her boss’s side, grateful to have an excuse to be near him, his proximity comforting, his touch welcome. She filled the mug, her boss, her lover, preferring his coffee black.
“Yes, you certainly are qualified, Miss Starr.” Baagh’s lips curved around the rim of his cup. “I’d steal you away from Leone Media, but I don’t believe in mixing business with pleasure.”
“And this is business.” Royce leaned forward in his chair, golden hair covering his big hands, his lion dangerously close to the surface.
“For Royce, you’re merely business, goddess.” Baagh shrugged.
Starr dropped her gaze, having no response. Is that true? Am I merely business? A convenient fuck? Her head said “yes,” her heart screamed “no.”
“For me, you could be so much more.” Baagh’s outrageous flirting soothed her battered confidence.
“She’s mine, tiger,” Royce growled and Starr stared at him, her boss acting more like an animal than a man, his surly tone jeopardizing the account his pride needed so badly.
Why would he do that? Unless… Her heart leaped. He cares for me. He cares for me more than he cares about business, more than he cares about the pride.
“Mine,” Royce repeated, claws extending from his fingertips. Her boss was ready to fight his client… for her.
That can’t happen. He needs this account. Starr grazed her fingers over the back of Royce’s neck, under his lengthening hair, seeking to distract him as only a lover could.
He pushed back against her, rubbing his head on her stomach, her normally professional boss’s public touching surprising, arousing, exciting. She rested her hands on his broad shoulders, his muscles rippling under too many layers of clothing.
“Are you his, Starr?” Baagh toyed with his teacup, batting it back and forth between his hands.
Yes, I’m his. Starr couldn’t share that truth, Royce not yet ready to hear it. He might never be ready to hear it and that was okay because he cared for her. “I’m Mr. Leone’s assistant.” She pulled her hands away from her boss. Royce caught her wrists, holding her in place.
“I have another idea for Tiger Tech’s social media platform,” Dirk interjected.
“We’ll talk about it at our next meeting.” Baagh waved his hand and knocked his teacup. Tea spilled on the wooden tabletop. “Sorry about that.” He winced. “I’ll clean it up.” He glanced around him, the liquid rolling dangerously close to his expensive suit.
“I’ll get it.” Starr tugged her wrists free, grabbed a stack of paper napkins, and hurried to the executive’s side. “Watch your tie, Mr. Baagh. Tea stains silk.” She sopped up the mess.
“Call me Nikhil, please.” A slow smile stretched across Baagh’s handsome face. “Have you been to Tiger Tea on Fifth and Main?”
The high-end teahouse? Starr frowned, the change of topic too abrupt to be part of a random conversation.
“Before you say anything.” The executive raised his hand, and Starr moved the teacup farther away from him. “I should warn you my family owns it, and unlike lions.” He slid his gaze to Royce. “Tigers are very protective of anything or anyone belonging to us.”
“I know where this is heading,” Royce growled. “And she’s not going anywhere with you, Baagh.”
“Why ever not?” Baagh raised one black eyebrow. “She’s your assistant. You don’t own her.” He brushed his fingers over Starr’s skin, and she pulled her hand away, unable to tolerate his caress.
“Do not touch my mate, tiger,” Royce snarled. He sprang to his feet, his big hands curled into fists, his teeth bared, his body coiled as though he readied to attack.
Starr stared at Royce, awed by the power, the passion in his expression. “Mate?” Isn’t that the shifter word for wife? “You said you didn’t have time for romance.”
“I didn’t have time now.” Royce’s gaze remained fixed on his client, his perceived rival. “You’re mine, Starr. I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.”
His brothers inhaled sharply. Starr’s pussy moistened, his possessiveness arousing.
“There.” Baagh nodded, nonchalantly straightening his cuffs, acting not at all concerned by the threat. “That wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?” He rose gracefully from the chair and strode toward the door, Royce’s gaze tracking his movements.
“And I knew immediately who she was to you, cat.” Baagh looked back over his shoulder. “Your scent is all over her. I don’t like to be lied to; no client does. Next time, introduce her properly.” He walked out.
“Royce.” Dirk looked a
t Starr and then at Royce. “We should talk --”
“Later.” Tanner jabbed his elbow into Dirk’s gut. “We’ll talk later.” He pushed his brother out of the room, closing the door behind them, leaving Starr alone with Royce.
I’m this magnificent male’s mate. She gazed at Royce, her mind spinning, while Royce gazed at the door, his chest heaving as though he’d run a race. Silence stretched, the air thick with unexpressed emotion.
“So.” She forced a smile. “Four days on the job and I’ve already gotten a promotion.”
He swung his head around and stared at her, lines forming between his blond eyebrows. “What?”
“I’m your mate now, right?” Starr moved his coffee cup to the tray. Royce nodded. “And a mate is more powerful than an assistant?” she asked, knowing the answer. He bobbed his head again. “Then that’s a promotion.” She set Baagh’s teacup beside the coffee cup. “Promotions usually come with salary increases.”
Royce hooked his arm around Starr’s waist and pulled her to him. “Everything I have is yours.” He rested his face against her breasts, his breath hot and ragged.
“And everything I have is yours.” She petted his golden hair, the strains silky soft. “Though you might not want that everything. All I have is debt.”
A strangled sound originated from Royce’s throat.
“Are you okay?” Starr peered down at him.
“No, I’m not okay.” He gazed up at her, his catlike eyes turbulent. “He marked you, Starr.” Royce lifted her hand to his mouth and licked her knuckles, his tongue rough and arousing. “Marked you, my mate.” He laved her skin thoroughly as though he sought to erase all traces of Baagh’s touch.
“I smell him on you.” He sniffed her wrist, bumping against her with his cold nose. “On your clothes, on your skin.” He followed his explorations with his tongue, leaving a trail of heat along her wrist, her arm, pushing her sleeves higher and higher. “It is driving my animal crazy. I need to make you mine.”
