King's Proposal: Paranormal Shape Shifter Alpha Male Cage Fighter Werelion romance (Shifter Fight League Book 3)

by Mina Carter

  The kiss was long and lazy but still full of heat. Sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds, surrounding them in warmth. Soon though, even deeper kisses weren’t enough. Breaking away with a pant, she pulled at his shirt, undoing the buttons with shaking hands. One tore, pinging away unheeded to the floor as she slid her hands beneath the fabric with a sigh of relief. She needed to touch him…

  He groaned, dropping his head back as she explored.

  “Fuck, kitten, you’re killing me.”

  “I’m not done yet,” she whispered, leaning down to flick her tongue over his nipple. He flinched and then groaned, his grip on her hips punishing. She grinned against his pec, opening her mouth to nip the skin lightly.

  He swore, his cock jerking against her soft belly. “Dangerous games, kitten. Careful with your teeth unless you want under me and fucked senseless.”

  She chuckled softly. “I thought that was the idea.”

  Taking heed of the warning, she straightened up and, grasping his open shirt, pulled him up from his position against the desk. He looked at her curiously, but she just winked, pushing him backward toward the leather couch in the corner of the office.

  “Besides,” she whispered and then yanked his shirt down over his arms to pin them in place, “dangerous games are the only kind I like to play.”

  2

  Logan gasped, the sound of surprise making her grin in response. She didn’t give him a chance to react, hands holding the shirt taut and keeping his arms pinned to his sides. It was a false captivity of course. All it would take for him to free himself was a roll of his shoulders, and he’d tear the shirt to shreds.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he let her run her hands over his chest and abs, fingers exploring the hard muscles and lines of definition. Silence reigned between them, tension stretching out as he watched her touch him. His jaw was clenched, top lip curled back to reveal that his teeth were gritted. Reaching up, she placed her hand in the center of his chest.

  Yes, he was purring.

  “Pussy-cat likes that,” she teased, drawing a line down his abs.

  “Just one pussy here,” he threw back, flexing his arms just enough to make the fabric around them complain. “And we both know what’s going to happen to that.”

  “Yeah?” She crowded closer, brushing her lips over his so that she was almost kissing him, but not quite. Her hands weren’t idle, sliding between them as she swiftly undid his pants. His cock, ever eager, leaped free. She wrapped her fingers around the thick length and stroked him from root to tip. The groan that welled up from his chest was deep and carnal, stretching out as he dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

  “I don’t know about you…” She lifted on her tiptoes to kiss the side of his neck, trailing her lips up to just under his ear. “But I think I’m the one in charge now, and you’re going to do as you’re told. Aren’t you?”

  His purr was all the answer she needed. With a firm grip, she worked his cock. Used fast strokes mixed in with hard ones and then swept her finger over the wide head. She collected the bead of pre-cum gathered there to spread it slickly over him.

  “Fuck, kitten… you’re killing me.” His groan was accompanied by tearing cloth as he tensed against the shirt.

  “You can take it.” She gave him a small push backward so he sat down suddenly on the couch, shirt still holding his upper arms in place.

  “Lean back.”

  He scooted his hips forward at her command, looking up at her with such a hot expression it took her breath away.

  Moving with as much sensual grace as she could muster, she climbed into his lap and straddled him. Her tight skirt nearly foiled her, constraining her movements, but she used it to tease him. Hands flat on her thighs, she slid the hem up, revealing that she wore stockings. His quick intake of breath told her he’d noticed too.

  The skirt slid higher, until it was merely a swath of fabric around her waist, revealing her tiny panties. She watched him watching her. His gaze riveted to her crotch as she slid her hands between her thighs. Dipping her fingertips under the lace edge of her panties, she teased him by pushing the fabric to the side and sweeping her fingertips through her pussy lips.

  They slid easily, coming away slick with her arousal, and she stroked her clit. She moaned and did it again, watching him all the while.

  He groaned and growled, the sounds fighting with his purr as he watched her pleasure herself. He watched her writhe as she stroked, fingers spread to keep her panties out of the way so he could see as well.

  “Fuck, that’s hot.” His cock jerked, brushing his tensed stomach and drawing her attention. A wicked devil on her shoulder, she moved her fingers down and slid one, then two into the hot, wet grasp of her pussy. She pumped them as he watched.

  His eyes widened, nostrils flaring, and with the sound of tearing cloth, he was free. His hands clamped over her hips, lifting her even as she pulled her fingers free.

  “Naughty kitten,” he purred, settling her over his cock. Before she had a chance to reply, he thrust upward to impale her on his thick, hard length.

  She gasped, and fought a deep, dark need and the burning pleasure-pain of his invasion. Wide and thick, she was filled almost to the point of pain. Her body stretched around him as he held her tightly. Giving her no time to recover, he began to move, hands hard on her hips as he thrust up into her tight sheath again and again.

  They didn’t talk, no sweet nothings. Instead, the air was filled with the sounds of sex as they strained against each other — the slap of skin against skin and the rasp of their clothes as they moved in sync. Pleasure rolled through her with each rock and roll of his hips, her thighs clenching to lift her up so that she could slide down his cock again.

  Their tempo sped up and she leaned forward, hands clutching the back of the couch as she rode him. The leather squeaked in time with their movements, in time with his hips as he fucked her hard and deep.

  “Oh…god… yes…” She gasped, her pussy clenching tightly as a familiar tension rose up from her toes. Liquid heat bathed his cock in a rush and pleasure burst through her in one blinding, earth-shattering wave.

  “Yes, that’s it, kitten,” he growled, voice no longer human. “Come all over my cock…let me feel what I do to you.”

  She couldn’t answer, just nodded as she rode both the waves of pleasure and his hard length. He growled again, reaching up to grasp her around the nape of the neck, the other hand on the back of her hips as he sped up.

  Harder. Faster. Deeper.

  She cried out as she came again, hard on the heels of her first climax. Her pussy clenched tightly around him, milking his cock, and his tempo stuttered, becoming faster, erratic. With a final hard thrust, his body stiffened and he roared in pleasure as he came.

  Zara wanted to leave him.

  Logan’s brow creased. No, not leave him. Leaving him would indicate that they had a relationship rather than just the…arrangement that they did. She wasn’t looking to leave him. She was looking for an end date on sharing his bed.

  He sighed and ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. The strands were starting to twist and curl, meaning he needed to shave the damn lot off again or people would start to see him for the street thug he’d been in his teens.

  Fuck. He’d thought he’d have longer with her, but the contents of the folder she’d forgotten after he’d fucked her senseless in his office indicated otherwise.

  A fond smile twisted his lips. His kitten was nothing if not thorough. The figures were neat and organized, her train of logic sound. But he’d known that anyway. When his accountants had looked over the figures she’d prepared to estimate what her father had stolen, even the senior partners had been impressed. Impressed and prepared to offer her a job on the spot…a notion he’d quickly squashed.

  She already had a position… Shame hit him for a second. Sure, that position was on her back for him, but it was still a role that took up a lot of her time. He didn’t want her in a stuffy
office looking at spreadsheets. He wanted her like she was this morning, skirt up around her waist riding the fuck out of his cock. That was where she belonged.

  He couldn’t argue that she wouldn’t make a good accountant, though. When she’d estimated what her father had stolen, she hadn’t hidden anything or massaged the figures, even though the naked truth could have meant her death. Instead, she’d put it all down there in black and white, trusting in honesty and his good nature.

  Same with her projections in the file he’d found. She’d estimated how much she was worth as a sex worker and offset it against what she owed him. He didn’t know whether to laugh, be pissed off, or shake some sense into her. She wasn’t a sex worker and even if she had been, by pitching her price at somewhere just above streetwalker and below high class escort, she’d massively underestimated her worth.

  She was worth at least a million a night, if not more. So technically, she’d already worked through her debt and he was in hers.

  But it wasn’t about money. Not now. They were way past that.

  It was about Zara. It always had been.

  As soon as he’d seen her in that club, he’d wanted her. At first he’d thought she was Hunter’s, Kylan Hunter’s, girlfriend. All the way through that walk across the club he’d been making plans to get rid of the man and lay claim to his woman. One shallow grave to go, and he could have her in his bed. Then they’d introduced themselves and he’d realized she was not only not Kylan Hunter’s woman, but also that he had an in with her that didn’t involve killing anyone.

  That had been too much temptation for a man like him and he’d taken what he wanted. But she’d turned out to be far more than the quick screw he’d anticipated. He found he wanted to keep her in his life. Permanently.

  But how?

  She was way too good for the likes of him, and Logan knew it. He was a bad boy from the wrong side of town who, somehow, had made good and she was scarily intelligent and beautiful. AKA way out of his league.

  His lion grumbled within him and he reassured it. Nothing, not his background, or hers, was going to stop him. Zara Hunter was his. End of story.

  “Want to crack a smile at some point soon, big guy?” The voice of his second in command, Gage, broke through his thoughts. Blinking sharply, he looked around to find the other man watching him keenly. “It’s just you’re gonna scare off the natives… and we kinda need them if you want to buy something today…”

  He indicated the store around them. A high-end jeweler, it was all white walls with fancy art and gleaming glass cases filled with diamonds and other precious stones. Sales staff were dotted around, all looking his way with that sharp “helpful” expression that said they’d probably hand over their firstborns to secure his patronage.

  And not one of them would have given him the time of day ten years ago when he’d stepped off the streets and into the ring. They only bothered now because he was the king. When he wasn’t, not one of them would piss on him if he were on fire. Sycophantic assholes, he hated the lot of them.

  With practiced ease, he kept his thoughts off his face and indicated the case in front of him. Filled with necklaces, a king’s ransom in diamonds was within, but the price didn’t bother him. All he could think about was how pretty some of the designs would look around Zara’s neck. But would she prefer delicate and floral or chunky and bold?

  “I’d like to look at tray E8 please,” he said, turning to Gage as the nearest sales girl scurried to do his bidding.

  The sight of the two of them in the classiest jeweler’s store in town made him smile a little. “Betcha never thought we’d be in a place like this, eh bro?”

  Gage cast a glance around and chuckled. “You mean, and not robbing it? No. Have to say I didn’t.”

  Logan joined in with the chuckle. He and Gage had been friends since they’d been in diapers, kids from the same apartment block who ran wild together until they got old enough to really run wild. Both shifters, Gage’s leopard to his lion, they’d been targeted by street gangs before they’d really been old enough to understand that not even shifters could outrun silver bullets.

  It had only been a chance encounter with an old fighter that had gotten them into the gym, and from it, into the ring. Fighting had stopped them going down the gang route and saved both their lives — gotten them and their families out of the rough-as-fuck neighborhood they’d lived in.

  “Yeah,” Logan sighed. “We did good, didn’t we?”

  Gage barked a laugh. “No mate, you did good. If you weren’t so good at beating the living crap out of people, we’d have been two washed-up old fighters with busted faces and not a hope between us, or…”

  He didn’t end the sentence but he didn’t need to. They both knew that if they’d stayed on the streets one or both of them would be dead by now.

  “I just wing it, bro.” Logan broke the tension with a chuckle. “Not my fault if they’ve all got a hard-on for hitting my fists with their faces now is it?”

  “Yeah, that’s got to be it. You’re just a lucky bastard, ain’t you?”

  He grinned and looked down at the tray in front of him. Diamonds winked back at him but he didn’t see them. Mention of the rougher areas of the city brought other thoughts to mind.

  “Tell me about the underground fight clubs.”

  Gage sighed and rubbed his hand over his shaved scalp. “We’ve had scouts out but the fuckers are elusive. As soon as we get a tip off and move in, they’re already gone. I suspect the fangers are involved.”

  “Hmmmm…” Logan shook his head. “Can’t see that Zane would get involved in this. It’s not his style. Whether he is or not, we need to do something about it and fast.”

  Logan was like a drug. Her very own drug of choice with all the highs and lows attached.

  Zara hovered by the window, trying not to be seen as she watched for the first glimpse of Logan’s car as it turned the corner. She was ready early, as she always was, telling herself it was just her own preference rather than to try and impress him. Fuck, who was she kidding?

  It was all about Logan.

  She was addicted to him, lock, stock and barrel. Addicted to his hard, muscular body and the things he did to her with it. Hooked on his quick wit and the quirky smile he gave when she’d scored a point in conversation. More than that, she craved his company, his touch and the softer kisses he gave her after all the filthy, dirty things he did to her in bed.

  But that wasn’t the worst…the one that really got to her was the soft kisses he often planted on her forehead, his hand cradling the back of her neck. Those kisses meant more than all the ones exchanged in the heat of passion. Those kisses hinted at respect and emotion that went beyond lust and the sex they shared.

  A large, black car pulled around the corner, interrupting her train of thought. She watched it roll to a stop, the light from the sunset glinting dully off its blacked out windows. It couldn’t be anyone other than Logan. She didn’t know anyone else who owned such a vehicle. Rooted to the spot, she watched, waiting, as the door opened and a tall figure unfolded itself from the interior.

  It was a uniformed chauffeur, not Logan. Disappointment surged through her. Crap, she had it bad.

  The driver didn’t come to the door, but then she didn’t expect him too. Grabbing her clutch from the console by the door, she hurried outside to meet him. He didn’t speak, instead opening the door for her. She avoided eye contact. Was he the same driver from the other night, when she and Logan had…in the back of the car? Shit, he was. Heat hit her cheeks and she disappeared through the open door like a rabbit down a tunnel, curling up in the corner and avoiding looking toward the cabin at the front of the vehicle.

  The journey into the city center didn’t take long, and she kept her thoughts off the man she was going to meet and on the scenery passing by the window. Unaccustomed nerves assailed her. She had no idea where they were going. Logan’s text had simply given a time for collection and “dress up,” so it could be any
thing. A sigh escaped her. Probably another league function for her to adorn his arm and play the airheaded girlfriend. Although Logan appeared to appreciate intelligent conversation, most of his colleagues were dyed-in-the-wool traditionalists. The type that thought women didn’t belong in the fight scene, ever.

  She hid her smile. Moon help them then if the female fighter Ky had his eye on came through. From what her brother had said, the girl was shit-hot and twice as lethal as any male fighter they’d ever seen on the circuit.

  The car turned a corner and pulled to a stop, dragging a frown from Zara as she looked out of the window and onto a very elegant facade. They couldn’t be…

  The door opened in front of her and she hesitated a little, looking up at the chauffeur.

  “This is Kroler’s,” she commented, unfolding herself from the car as elegantly as she could manage to look up at the restaurant in front of her.

  With gleaming white walls and the name etched into the frosted glass, it was a study in understated luxury and very, very exclusive. The last she’d heard, there was a two-year waiting list for a table and one meal would put most people in bankruptcy.

  “Are you sure we’re at the right place?”

  “Of course, ma’am. Mr. Reese was very specific.”

  She couldn’t argue with that and stepped away from the vehicle to allow him to shut the door. She was still standing there a moment later as the limo pulled away. Gathering her courage, she moved to push open the door and walk in.

  The cool rush of lightly scented air washed over her, evidence of hidden air conditioning units. Almost before the door had swung shut, the Maitre D’ bustled forward, a smile on his face.

  “Miss Hunter, a pleasure to see you. If you’ll follow me, please, Mr. Reese is waiting for you on the terrace.”

  The terrace. A table at Kroler’s was expensive enough, but a table on the terrace? Even she knew bookings for those were like rocking horse shit — virtually impossible to get. Keeping her surprise to herself, she followed the man through the restaurant.