by Marie Harte
His cell phone buzzed. Noting the familiar number, he swallowed a groan and answered in a low voice, “What now?”
“Easy, big guy.” He clearly heard his lieutenant’s amusement. Quince could imagine Jace Alexander kicked back in his chair, his long legs crossed at the ankles, his feet on the ancient scarred desk in Quince’s office. The big blond was deceptively lazy, but he could move like lightning when prodded. “Just checking in, as ordered.”
“Any problems with Ayers or Watson?”
“Nope. Greg, Darren and their weak-ass posse are keeping quiet. Too quiet, if you ask me, but Ellis and I have it covered. When are you getting a third lieutenant to help out, anyway? This domestic crap is über annoying.”
Tell me about it. Just another reason Quince didn’t want to be pride leader. Petty problems annoyed the shit out of him. He grunted. “I’m working on it. But how hard can mediating the mating habits of cougars be? That’s why we pay you the big bucks.”
“Excuse me? Have you raised my salary when I wasn’t looking? ‘Cause I’m thinking that telling Genevieve she can’t buy a new car with pride money to make Karen jealous and handling Alicia’s pissy attitude about Susan mating her brother should net me some fucking hazard pay.”
Not having the patience to deal with any females other than Joy at the moment, Quince muttered a hasty, “I’m busy.”
“I’ll bet you are. Busy with that fine Joy Bermin.” Jace whistled, and Quince wanted to jack him up by his throat.
“Talk to you later,” he snarled, hung up on Jace’s laughter, then pocketed his phone.
His friends at home thought his plight with Joy was the funniest thing going. Quince knew the bastards had been betting on how long it would take him to nab the sly female. That’s if he could. Odds were in his favor, but that wasn’t factoring Miles into the equation. What a freaking headache.
Joy needed to be wooed. He knew that. Problem was, the woman wouldn’t sit still long enough to let him court her. Date her. Fuck her. Hell, he’d do anything to get her attention. But it seemed nice didn’t work with her. Her older sisters, now they’d be pleasant. Twins Amy and Melissa had never had a bad thing to say to him. Stacey…well, she and Dean deserved each other. Too pretty and arrogant by half, she was a female version of Miles.
And good old Miles. The prick was a stand-up guy most of the time. Had a terrific sense of humor, great luck with the ladies and money coming out his ass. Too bad his head was stuck so far up that particular orifice that he couldn’t see the truth for what it was. Quince had a bad feeling he and Miles would come to blows before the idiot would see how mistaken he’d been about Quince’s part in Michael’s death and the pride takeover.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing a tension headache growing.
The doorknob against the far wall turned, and he froze behind the slatted closet door. The older woman who preceded Joy gave the closet a subtle nod. For a hundred bucks and Dean’s voucher, she’d been more than happy to play secret matchmaker.
“Okay, Ms. Bermin. You can take your robe off and hang it there.” She pointed to a hook on the wall. “Mannie will be with you shortly. Just lie down on the table, close your eyes and let yourself relax.” Crappy New Age music piped through overhead speakers in the ceiling.
He was in hell. Until Joy grinned.
She looked adorable in a white terrycloth robe two sizes too big for her. Though by no means short, she still came to a few inches below his chin. But she had curves in all the right places. So damn sexy. The only dark-headed Bermin amidst so many blondes, she had short, spiky hair, mischievous jade-green eyes and a mouth made for sin.
Just thinking about their one and only kiss aroused him.
“Terrific,” Joy said. “I was stressed out. But I tell you, that mineral bath was amazing.”
The spa attendant smiled and lit a few candles, giving the room an herbal smell. Lavender? Maybe rosemary? He didn’t much care, except that the candles would help cover his scent even more.
“We’re Whitefish’s premier spa. Of course, I’m biased, but when my friends ask what I want for my birthday, I always tell them a gift certificate for this place.” The woman laughed. “Your sister Stacey agrees. I was so excited to learn that the Bermin line was coming to Montana.” She made a bit more small talk about high fashion and Stacey’s new plans to expand her designs, then left Joy with instructions to lock the door behind her, because her massage therapist would enter through the other door. The one right next to the closet.
After the door shut behind her, Joy went over to lock it, then turned and unbelted her robe. She hung it on the wall and let out a deep breath, looking relaxed for the first time in ages.
Good Christ. His mouth dried, and he found it hard to breathe.
She had golden skin, dewy from her bath, and was just…perfect. Full breasts with rosy areolas, a slender waist and a curvy ass. He wanted to taste her like crazy.
He forced himself to keep quiet as she moved to the massage table and lay belly down, putting her face in the donut-shaped pillow. Good for him, because she wouldn’t be able to see him. Then she drew a sheet over her ass and legs, hiding that delectable derriere from view.
He gave it a few minutes, then deliberately opened the door and closed it behind him. He locked the door next to the closet, securing them together. Alone.
“Hello, Ms. Bermin. I’m Mannie,” he said in a much deeper voice.
“Mmm.” Nice. She was almost asleep. According to the woman he’d bribed, Mannie was Stacey’s personal massage therapist, so Joy wouldn’t fret about being in the same room with the striking gay man.
Quince swallowed a curse, not liking the thought of any man, gay or straight, touching his mate—future mate, he reminded himself. Go slow and don’t blow it. Reel her in, slowly. Seduce a yes out of the tricky feline.
Quince would much rather have been honest with Joy, but the woman made it impossible to deal with her on the level.
Even Dean had agreed. “You want to win her?” he’d said last night. “Trick her into saying yes before she can backpedal. Trust me, Joy should have been born a fox. Woman has a thing for always trying to pull one over on a guy.”
Quince cleared his throat and reminded himself not to get naked and mount her yet. He knew they shared chemistry, but she needed to want all of him. Or so he kept telling himself as he stared down at her slender neck and smooth, rounded shoulders.
“Mannie?” she mumbled.
“This will feel good. Just lie there and relax.” He slathered almond-scented oil over his hands and placed them on her back. His dick spiked, so in tune with the rest of him needing to caress her. Touch her. Keep her.
She froze for a moment but soon relaxed under his soothing touch. From her shoulders down to her lower back, he butterfly-stroked the tension out of her. Each time his fingers drew closer to the curve of her ass, and each time he fought the urge to deepen the intimacy and release his scent. His cat growled and paced inside him, needing to scent mark his mate.
Not yet, he warned it, understanding too well the cat’s yowl of denial. Soon. Let’s play with her first. The cat sniffed with grudging approval, but when Quince deepened his touch, kneading her skin, the cat purred in his breast before he could shush it quiet.
“Oh, that feels good,” Joy whispered on a breathy sigh.
Too good. Quince was hard enough to split wood. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, and he wiped it away with his shoulder. Then he moved to her waist. “I’m going to adjust the sheet so I can get to your hamstrings and calves.”
“Sure,” he heard her murmur.
He slid the soft sheet over her back, keeping it barely covering her ass.
Then he moved to the base of the table, prodded her ankles wider and started rubbing her feet, curling his lips at her barely audible purr. His cat heard it and purred along with her.
Joy’s muscles locked. She’d heard him. He didn’t care.
“Easy. Let yourself go
,” he rasped, imaging how beautiful she’d be the first time she came in his arms.
“But…”
He stroked her heels, her ankles and higher up her calves to the backs of her knees. Then he caressed the insides of her thighs, moving higher but not high enough to be called on it.
Fuck if he could think past the need to take her.
“That feels…that feels…” She hitched her breath.
“Good?” he ended for her, having a hard time breathing.
“Uh, yeah,” she squeaked.
He ran his thumbs back up the insides of her thighs again, this time skating perilously close to her pussy. He inhaled and scented raw, powerful lust. Oh God.
She squirmed, and his thumb brushed her folds, coated with her arousal.
“Mannie, I don’t think…”
“No, don’t think,” Quince growled, making no effort to disguise his voice any longer.
“I knew it!” But she didn’t flinch or try to move off the table. Instead she shivered under him, as caught in the spell as Quince.
He knew better than to give her time to think things through. He yanked the sheet off her back and continued to massage her, this time running his fingers against the slick flesh between her legs before sliding his hands down her thighs. He massaged on an upward sweep again, higher and higher, until unable to stop himself, he slid his finger inside her.
She clamped down on the digit, moaning and surrounding him with heat, and he swore. “Fuck. Let me…” He didn’t want to hear her reject him again, so he took charge. Quince removed his hand, flipped her onto her back and then pulled her ass to the edge of the table, where she dangled her legs on either side of him. The perfect position for him to spread her thighs wider and shove his face into the sweetest pussy he’d ever had.
Joy couldn’t breathe as Quince sucked her taut flesh with his devious, scarily talented mouth.
“Quince.” She clenched his soft hair, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. She arched into him, addicted to the pleasure. He was incredible, so strong, holding her down with one hand to her belly while he licked her to an incredibly quick orgasm.
She shuddered and sighed his name as she came, falling fast into oblivion. It had been so long, and Quince felt so right. But he didn’t stop. And the rush of bliss continued, smoothing out before easing into another climb toward ecstasy. Her cat purred with pleasure even as she wanted more.
At first, Joy hadn’t known what to make of Mannie’s massage. What should have been impersonal had turned her on the moment he’d touched her. Much different from what Stacey had told her to expect with the openly gay man. Nothing soft or mildly relaxing about this massage. Joy had planned to protest, but then she’d lost herself in the heavenly touch. To her dismay, she’d superimposed Quince’s face over Mannie’s imagined one, her subconscious making it okay to indulge.
So of course, it had to be the canny cat licking her to another climax.
“Yeah, so good,” he whispered against her. “Need you, baby. So fucking sweet.”
His rough voice and firm yet gentle touch pushed her to the edge of reason. She felt empty, needy. Her cat yowled with pleasure, and with a heat she knew all too well. Oh hell. Not now. She wasn’t due to go into heat for at least two more weeks. But her feline side disagreed. The cat wanted Quince and no other. And she was tired of being denied.
Surrendering to the animal inside her, Joy dragged her hands from Quince’s hair to his powerful shoulders. She gripped him tight, digging in her fingernails.
He sucked harder, and she knew he liked the bite of pain. Kinky cat.
“More,” she moaned, writhing beneath him. “Inside me.”
He stopped and raised his head, his lips shiny with her desire. His eyes super bright in the dimly lit room. “You sure?”
She narrowed her eyes, her cat hissing. “You started this. You finish it.”
Instead of arguing at her sudden demand, he complied with astonishing speed. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” In seconds he unbuttoned his jeans and took himself out. She caught a brief glimpse of a huge cock before she felt him prodding her folds.
With one push, he surged deeply, huge and hot and thick inside her.
He leaned over her, his gaze intense. “You’re perfect,” he rasped. Then he started moving, fucking her with long strokes. Sure and steady, he refused to be rushed, even when she pushed and pulled and demanded he hurry.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice so low she barely made sense of the feline growls pouring from his throat. He hammered into her, thrusting with enough force to show her he was in charge.
“Oh God. Oh God. Yes, Quince. Yes.” She would have screamed if he hadn’t swallowed her cry.
She came hard around him, sucking him deeper, and felt a snap of psychic connection between them when his cat released a layer of scent and energy. It was the beginning of the mating mark, but awash in so much pleasure, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She could die happily without regret.
He jerked and swore, and her cat returned the marker, accepting and even welcoming the wealth of seed bathing her womb.
“Fuck, yeah. Joy…” he groaned and continued to spend.
She stroked his back, soothing the shudders of his orgasmic throes. As what he’d done permeated, she searched for the anger she knew he deserved. But basking in such bliss, she couldn’t do more than yawn and grip his shirt—he hadn’t even undressed—while he finished.
He blinked down at her, his face a study in carnal ecstasy. “Damn. You’re gonna make me pay for this. I know it. But Jesus. It’ll be worth it.”
She chuckled, surprised at how good she felt. Until he withdrew and his seed trickled out of her. Joy closed her eyes and swore. He’d come inside her. Her cat purred. Stupid cat. To which the feline flicked her tail and replied, Stupid human.
He pressed something between her legs. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.”
Quince sounded way too satisfied. But how much blame could she put at his door when she’d begged him to fuck her?
She groaned again. “I’m so stupid.”
“Nah. Just lucky.” He chuckled.
She opened her eyes and glared up at him, prepared to take his head off at the first sign of his familiar smirk. Instead, she gazed up at a gentle smile filled with…affection?
Used to the smug and domineering feline accustomed to being obeyed, Joy didn’t know what to make of this man.
He caressed her cheek with a callused finger. “Don’t think so hard. You can yell at me all the way back to Florida. I promise. I’ll sit there and take it on the plane ride home.” He paused, his gaze searching. “Just give me a chance. That’s all I ask.”
Not all, if he planned on trying to impregnate her at every opportunity. But for once, Quince wasn’t being an ass about things. He’d asked instead of commanded. Her cat liked the strong panther who’d tricked her, then taken her so forcefully. But the woman wanted compassion and care. To be wanted for herself, not because of a connection to her rich and beautiful family.
“I—”
“Just hear me out about Michael. Lex. Ronnie. I’ll tell you all of it. But please, don’t shut me out anymore. And come home,” he said again. “I have to go back. Lex’s followers aren’t all gone. I have to make things right for the pride. But I can’t do it if I’m worrying about you. And don’t tell me not to worry. I can’t help it, not when it comes to you.”
His sincerity was palpable, his stare so deep and true she could only sigh as she watched him. “Okay,” she murmured, inwardly making no promises.
His blinding grin almost undid her. Man, he was hot.
“But,” she emphasized and sat up, pleased when his gaze slipped to her breasts and darkened, “don’t think this solves anything. We aren’t mated.”
“Yet,” he said under his breath.
She glared. “What’s that?”
“Nothing. I’ll just let you get dressed.” He stepped back, but
before he moved out of reach, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him close.
“Uh uh. My sister paid for a massage. I want the full heel, back and neck rub, buster. But no more sex,” she warned when he grinned. Not until I can shield myself from wanting more of you again.
Now looking pathetically dejected, he cracked his knuckles and motioned for her to lie back down. “I’m so unappreciated.”
She snorted as she turned over to her belly and scooted up the table. “That’s my line. Now stop staring at my ass and rub, Mannie.”
His good mood seemed to have vanished as he snarled, “If your precious Mannie had touched one inch of you, he’d be a mangled heap. I’d have ended him. Slowly.” Yet his hands were gentle as he massaged her already boneless body.
She smiled. Perhaps she could work with this. Quince wanted her, of that she had no doubt. And the sex had been explosive. She’d get some birth control going, enjoy the incredible sex and see just what Quince had rattling in his closet. Then maybe, just maybe, she’d see where this relationship—if she could call it that—might go.
Two hours later, while Quince arranged their flight home, she sat with her sisters in the cabin Stacey and Dean shared while Dean was building a large house for his picky mate. Joy loved her sisters, but Stacey was a pain at the best of times. Younger by two years, she acted like she ruled the roost. Normally Joy let her, because it took too much energy to argue with Miles and Stacey.
But tonight Stacey was on her last nerve. Her prissy sister sniffed and raised a perfectly arched brow. “You hooked up with Quince, baby killer and cat of loose morals?”
“Baby killer?” Amy glanced from Stacey to Melissa.
