Cat's Lair

by Christine Feehan

  She matched his wild, out of control mood, riding him hard. Fast. Her soft little cries, music in his ears while he surged into paradise over and over, the pace almost frantic. He thought he'd hold out a long while, he'd taken her just a few minutes earlier and he usually had great control, but the little downward spirals, the way her delicate muscles gripped and milked had him losing himself in her far too fast.

  He felt the explosion building from his toes and moving through his legs. His teeth settled into her skin, the soft perfect junction between her shoulder and neck. He bit down and her entire body shuddered, clamped down like a vise on his and squeezed. He roared her name as she took him with her, as jet after jet of hot seed splashed deep into her.

  He knew instantly. Even as his body shuddered and rocked. Even as hers gripped his and milked. He knew. This time, right there in the rain, they had created something beautiful and precious between them. He lifted his head to look down at her. He knew his eyes had gone leopard. Possessive. Satisfied. How could he help it? She was his and always would be his.

  "What?" she murmured sleepily. She kissed his shoulder and then his throat.

  Still locked inside her, surrounded by her, held by her, he gave a little growl. "Give me your mouth."

  She obeyed instantly, tilting her head so he could kiss her. So he could lose himself there. She was sacred. The mother of his child. His lover.

  "Marry me, Catarina." It wasn't a question. He wanted it to be, but it didn't come out that way. It was a demand. An order. He made the command against her soft lips.

  He felt her mouth curve against his. He pulled his head back to look into her eyes, even as he eased her feet back to the ground. He hated slipping out of her body, losing the ultimate, intimate connection between them.

  "Are you asking me or telling me?" she answered, her hands smoothing down his arms.

  He studied her face. "That depends. You saying yes, then I'm asking. You hesitating, then I'm telling you." He was honest. How could he not be? It was the truth. He wanted his ring on her finger and her name to be his. She belonged to him. With him. More, he was hers, body and soul.

  She laughed softly. "That's so you, Eli. So romantic."

  He looked around him at the steadily falling rain, the thirsty trees lifting leaves toward the drops. "This is romantic."

  "I'll marry you, baby. Someone has to take care of you properly."

  Her voice was filled with love. She didn't declare her love, but at that moment he didn't need her to. He heard it in her soft response. Elation swept through him. He would have taken her again, right there, but he couldn't very well lay her down in the wet grass, and she looked exhausted.

  "Right away. Immediately." Definitely a command. Accompanied by a growl.

  She laughed and shifted, her little female leopard leaping away from him, sprinting toward the dense grove of trees. He ran after her, shifting on the run, feeling his answering laughter. His answering happiness. He didn't know how he managed it, he knew he didn't deserve her, but she was his all the same and he knew he'd do anything to keep her.

  I love you, Kitten, he whispered from deep inside his male.

  The female teased and flirted with the male leopard over and over and he allowed it, staying close, rubbing along her fur, approaching cautiously when she crouched invitingly and leaping back when she halfheartedly swiped a paw at him. They tumbled together, rolling around in the grass, playing, but always, the male moved his female toward him. Toward the ranch house.

  The much heavier male took her there on the porch, pinning her in the way of the male leopard, locking them together, staking his claim.

  Eli let his male have his time with his mate, but once he was finished and just rubbing lovingly along her fur, as she lay exhausted and panting, he forced him back and shifted.

  The little female didn't move. He dropped his hand into her thick fur. "Shift now, Cat." He poured command into his voice.

  She obeyed automatically, but she didn't move from the floor. He reached down and lifted her exhausted body, cradling her against his chest.

  "You sleep in this morning and then we're going to take care of it."

  She rubbed her face sleepily against his chest. "Take care of what?"

  He strode into the house. "Go to sleep. Let me take care of you. We'll get the paperwork done and get married at Jake's."

  She burrowed closer. "I think I'm being railroaded."

  He laughed softly. "Bet your life on that, baby. I'm not wasting time and giving you the chance to change your mind."

  19

  CATARINA pushed away from her desk, stood up and stretched. She loved this room. Their shared office. There was so much space. It was nice sitting opposite Eli, looking up every now and then from her laptop to see his golden eyes on her. The way he looked at her always made her shiver in anticipation. He always looked at her as if he might devour her at any moment. In fact, it was true. More than once he'd ordered her to strip and climb on his desk. More than once she'd dared to crawl under his desk and open his jeans to get what she wanted.

  She loved the books that slowly were filling the empty shelves. She knew she spent too much on books, but it was the only thing she spent money on. She threw out her arms and spun in a circle, unable to contain her happiness. The dread was still there, deep in the pit of her stomach and the nightmares had increased so she knew Rafe was closer than ever to her, but still she couldn't help but be happy.

  She might not spend money on herself, but Eli kept her supplied in clothes--especially lingerie. Silky, lacy camisoles. He especially liked red on her. She had a lot of lace and red. She could never really understand why because it never stayed on her more than a few minutes, but she liked to wear the silk and lace under her clothes, especially her everyday clothes, just to tease him. He always wondered.

  Eli made her laugh. He was bossy, even arrogant, there was no doubt about it. He was super controlling, but, she found, it was mainly when it came to sex or her safety or health. In every other area, he was gentle with her and seemed to want her to grow confident and spread her wings.

  She had more boots in her closet than she could possibly wear in a week. She never asked for them. She was careful, even, not to look at anything too long in any of the cool stores she'd found on the Internet, but the boots kept coming and she loved every pair. She didn't wear them often, but Eli always assured her, when the danger to her was past, he would take her out often and she could wear her beloved boots.

  "Kitten, where the hell are you?" Eli sounded irritated and bossy. Just like him.

  She didn't shout her answer back to him because she knew from experience he detested that. When he called her, he wanted her. Right there. In front of him. And when she came into the room he wanted her kissing him.

  Catarina moved quickly through the hall down to the kitchen where Eli paced with a scowl on his face. The moment she entered, he whirled around and stalked toward her, looking aggressive, a leopard on the prowl. Her heart stuttered, just as it always did when she first caught a glimpse of him.

  Tall, broad-shouldered, his body cut with heavy, defined muscles. His face was that of a man, no boyish features at all. Right now his jaw was set tight and his eyes were very focused, predatory. She went straight to him, meeting him in the middle of the kitchen, going up on her toes to press her mouth gently to his frown.

  He always responded the same way. The moment her lips touched his, his mouth took over, his tongue demanding entrance. He slipped his hand under her shirt to cup one breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple as her mouth met his. She wasn't certain why he always touched her so intimately when she kissed him, but she liked it, almost as if it was his personal brand of ownership.

  She had a brand of her own. When she stepped back, she allowed her hand to run down his chest, feel the tight, cut muscles of his abdomen and then brush lightly over his heavy, thick cock. He was nearly always semi-or completely erect after kissing her. Sometimes she wondered if he was a
lways in a permanent state of arousal.

  "Where the hell did you go when you left my bed this morning without waking me? And why?"

  This time, his hand didn't drop away from her breast when she stepped back. His thumb and finger caught her nipple and tugged hard. Rolled deliberately. Fire shot straight to her center. Heat burned. Her gaze jumped to his face.

  "I just went out to the porch and sat for a while, Eli," she said, puzzled.

  "And nowhere else?"

  It was a demand. He didn't let go of her breast, but he cupped the soft weight and his thumb gentled, stroking there deliberately.

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, trying to think what else she'd done. "I practiced shifting," she admitted, still not understanding why he was upset. She practiced every chance she got. He'd told her to. Even in the bedroom sometimes she tried to best her times of removing clothes and shifting on the move.

  "What did I tell you last night?"

  Hard hands bit into her waist. He lifted her up abruptly and set her on the table, hard. One hand went to her shirt, yanking it open, uncaring of the buttons that flew in all directions. Her breasts spilled out through the open edges. He placed one hand on her chest and pushed, forcing her to lean back until she had to catch herself with her hands.

  "I don't know. What? You're scaring me a little bit, Eli. I can't think straight."

  "I told you not to go anywhere without me. I told you it wasn't safe."

  Her heart tripped hard. He felt Rafe close. Fear made her mouth dry. She tasted a metallic flavor that always scared her. They'd had nearly a month since he'd given her the news about David and the others. She'd allowed herself to live in a dream world again, lulled into a false sense of security because so much time had passed.

  "Eyes on mine," Eli snapped. "If you're going to be afraid of someone, it had better be me, not that bastard."

  He was really angry, she realized. He'd never actually been angry with her before. Impatient maybe, but not angry. What had he said? He had a temper. He might say and do things she needed to be able to get over. What did that mean?

  Reluctantly she lifted her gaze to his. His golden eyes blazed down into hers. "You knew damn well you weren't supposed to leave my side."

  She shook her head. A slight tremor shook her body. He was really frightening standing over her with his eyes furious. He was fully clothed, and she was sprawled out in front of him entirely vulnerable. She tried to shift position just a little, to close her legs, to give herself any kind of edge she could.

  His hand smacked the side of her buttocks, the sound loud. Fire spread through her. She couldn't help the small cry that escaped. His palm was there, rubbing, soothing, even as his other hand slipped between her legs to feel the rush of damp liquid.

  "Can I just say 'ouch'?" she asked.

  "Say whatever fucking thing you want to say, Cat, but don't you fucking move."

  Two of the f-bombs in one sentence. Clearly he was really angry.

  "I just misunderstood, Eli. I didn't think you meant here at our house. In our home. I didn't even think about that."

  "Where the hell else do you go, Catarina? Nowhere without me. So if I say it isn't safe, not to go anywhere at all without me, that means anywhere."

  She wanted to roll her eyes, but she thought better of it. He wasn't calming down. If she shifted positions she could maybe touch him, get a hand on him, but the way he'd forced her to lie back, she needed both hands to hold herself up.

  "I'm sorry, Eli."

  "You aren't. You think I can't read you like a fucking book, Cat? You're trying to think of the right thing to say or do, but you still don't get it. You still don't think you have to listen when I lay down a rule for your safety."

  Okay, that was true. Her home felt safe. They had a security system. She knew every shadow, the layout of the furniture, where every weapon was placed, scattered around the house, in each room, taped under furniture and in small cracks and down the cushions of the softer armchairs and couch, everywhere throughout their home. She felt safe, because even if she went on the porch, all she had to do was call and she knew Eli would come.

  His finger slid inside her, scooped out hot liquid, and he began a slow, torturous circle around her clit. "We had an agreement, Cat. You knew from the beginning what kind of man I am and what I expect from my woman. I tell you don't fucking leave my side then you don't. I tell you to strip naked and dance on the damn table because I like seeing you up there you do it. Most of all, when I tell you trouble is close, trouble that can get you injured, raped or killed, you listen."

  Fury edged his voice and he exploded, yanking her legs up over his shoulders, dipping his head low. His mouth clamped down on her and he began to devour her, eat her as if she was his last meal. His mouth was a weapon of total destruction and he knew exactly how to wield it. She couldn't move. She couldn't stop him. His tongue plunged, his teeth bit, tiny nips that stung, but sent blasts of radiant stars bursting through her body like white lightning.

  The breath left her lungs in a rush. He pushed her up fast and high and she felt her body gathering--gathering. She reached for it. Needed it. A sob escaped. Then he was gone. Lifting his head. Leaving her desperate. Leaving her in need.

  His eyes glittered with menace. More cat spilled into him. The driving demand to dominate. His face glistened with the evidence of her need. She tried to find anywhere at all to grind against something, but the way he held her legs over his shoulder prevented her from finding release, but left her open to him.

  "You should have learned by now, Kitten, I'm not a man you cross. Not when it comes to your safety." His voice was low. Growling. Twice she felt the brush of fur when his hand stroked down her belly to her mound.

  "Please, Eli." She tried not to sound as insane as she felt. As if on fire. He had a look on his face that scared her more than anything. He could torture her slowly and he'd enjoy every second of it. She could see the dark intent on his face.

  He blew on her. It didn't cool the heat at all; if anything, his warm breath fanned the flames. Her entire body jerked. Before she could catch her breath, say anything, promise anything, he ducked his head a second time, clamping his mouth on her, only this time he added his fingers.

  His thumb stroked her clit and then his tongue followed, flicking and pulsing against that sensitive bundle of nerve endings. She nearly came off the table. She fell back, unable to sustain her weight but needing to keep from going over the edge. Her hands started toward his hair.

  He raised his head instantly, the glittering eyes moving over her face broodingly. He was still angry. It was there in the set of his mouth, his jaw. "Don't you fucking touch me," he snarled. "You're in enough trouble without making it worse. If you have to hold on to something, hold the edge of the table and keep your hands to yourself."

  That hurt. He didn't want her touching him. She liked touching him. She needed it, that closeness and intimacy between them.

  "Eli, please," she cajoled softly. "Don't be angry with me. I don't like it."

  Eli watched her face intently. All the while she pleaded with him, her hips undulated, bucking softly, in need. Her body was coated with a fine sheen of perspiration. He'd driven her up fast, and left her there. He wanted her there, right on the edge, but unable to fall over. Not without his say-so. Not without his consent.

  His leopard felt every bit as mean as he did, not willing to give an inch on this issue. They both could have lost the one they needed beyond all others. Rafe Cordeau could destroy them, not just their lives, but Eli and his leopard. Just thinking about the possibility had Eli snarling all over again. Heat banded, coloring his vision, streaking it with reds and yellows. He made a halfhearted attempt to push the leopard down as he bent his head to his feast once again.

  As his tongue plunged, he brought his hands up to her breasts, soft, full mounds, tugging mercilessly on her nipples. Pinching and rolling, deliberately rough. She thrashed wildly. Begged. He felt her body ten
se. Immediately he lifted his head, looking at his prize sprawled out so prettily for him. He removed her legs from his shoulders gently, held her open to him, opened his jeans to release his throbbing cock and positioned the head right at her entrance.

  He took a moment to enjoy the sight of her, the anticipation, knowing the burn would come and she'd be even higher, needing him more. He slammed home, burying himself to his very balls. Flames streaked up his body, and she screamed, clutching the edges of the table until her knuckles turned white.

  "Look at me," he demanded, slowly pulling back. "Right now, give me your eyes. I want to see you." He waited until she complied. She was dazed and half out of her mind with need--need for him. "Did you really think I'd let you off this easily?"

  He pulled out of her and she cried out. Moaned. Shook her head back and forth, her hips trying to follow, to catch him and force him back into her. He straddled her instead, grateful that when he'd bought the table, he'd made certain it was thick and sturdy. She was naked, bare to him, and he was still clothed, his jean-clad thighs pressing around her hips.

  Her gaze clung to his and fear skittered there. Not of him. Of the pleasure he was forcing on her. Forcing her to take his way. Forcing her to accept anything he wanted to give her. To do to her. Both knew all she had to do was say stop, but she wouldn't. She was beyond that. She needed whatever he was giving her just as desperately as he needed to give it to her.

  His hands caught those soft breasts, so full. So tempting. He bent his head and took possession, claiming her body for his own. He didn't need to, she was already his. She wanted to be his. He was rough, his teeth and tongue and mouth suckling at her skated right along that edge of pain, but the wildfire was already so far out of control, that every powerful pull of his mouth on her nipples and breasts sent shock waves through her body.

  He reached out with one hand and caught up a bottle of scented oil he'd set out on the table behind her. His eyes blazing down at her, he tipped the bottle up and poured the contents between her breasts. She gasped as the cool oil pooled on her heated skin.