by Danica Avet
“I swear to God if y’all start fighting again, I’m getting my gun to shoot you both in the ass,” she threatened from above. “Now get the hell out of here.”
No, it wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. He heard it in the calm steadiness of her voice. The wolf must’ve recognized it as well. He shot Zach a look promising retribution, but he slinked away from her house, his body low to the ground as though to avoid being seen. Zach stared after the retreating canine. He was glad to see the bastard go, but there had been something weird about the whole incident, something that—
“You can carry your happy ass out of here too,” Colette said, interrupting his thoughts. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing here, but you’re not welcome and I really don’t want to have to shoot at you. Again.”
Zach forgot about the wolf’s intentions. If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t come sniffing around Colette again. But his tiger purred because in the animal world, any retreat meant the last shifter standing won the prize. He swung his head around to look at his prize poised on the stairs as though she were some beast master, her lightly muscled arms folded across her chest and her face set in a scowl. The stance, which he supposed was meant to be intimidating, was ruined by the peekaboo show she gave him with her towel and the thick fall of hair spilling over her shoulders.
Seeing her like this, her bare skin glistening from her recent shower and the smothering heat, her hair fluffed around her head, Zach felt like a conquering hero. And his prize was the crazy woman eyeing him the way she would a slug.
He sauntered to the foot of the stairs and looked up at her. He wanted her to run, to take this dance to the next level and its natural conclusion—covering her with his body and fucking her into submission. A loud purr rumbled deep in his throat at the thought. Her eyes, those amazing purple eyes, widened when he put one paw on the bottom step.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned in a firm tone.
He ignored that and strolled up the stairs as though he had every right to. Which he did by right of battle. She didn’t back away. Not at first. She threatened him with all sorts of awful things involving her family, guns, knives and his various body parts, but his tiger wasn’t daunted. It heard the breathlessness in her voice and scented the sudden musk of her arousal. In the tiger’s world, the female was supposed to put up a fight, to demand that her possible mate show his worthiness. Colette, human by nature but a predator by choice, was following the mating dance perfectly.
When he was four steps below her, she started to back up, the pitcher in one hand and her other hand on the railing. Her feet were tiny with the cutest little red-tipped toes. He wanted to lick his way from those toes, up her surprisingly long, lean legs until he could nuzzle the tender skin in the crook of her leg, bringing him closer and closer to her sweet cleft.
“S-stop,” she stammered. “I’m not playing, Zach. You shouldn’t be here.”
He shifted between one step and the next, not even aware of it until she stumbled over the top step, the pitcher falling out of her hand and rolling down the stairs. Zach sidestepped the container, his only goal the woman watching him with hungry eyes. He swore he could almost feel her gaze like a touch as she looked him over. His cock strained upward, toward her, the crown growing damp when she fixated her stare on it.
“Oh,” she breathed and the air thickened with the musk of her arousal. “Um.”
“You threw water on me,” Zach said as he stalked her across the porch and into her house, closing the door behind them with a soft click. He didn’t break eye contact with her, not even bothering to look away from her long enough to glance at the inside of her house. He only needed to find a spot for him to finish this first step of the dance. “You let that wolf look up your towel.” He growled, causing her eyes to widen even more.
“I did not!”
He backed her up against the arm of her sofa. She stopped with a gasp, but he had her exactly where he needed her. He reached out, his hands itching with the need to touch her skin and when he made contact with her flesh, it was as silky soft as he’d imagined. His dick lurched. This was the moment he’d dreamed about for a week, the feel and scent and sight of her exactly the way he’d imagined.
“Mine,” was all he could say in response to her denial. No wolf was going to look at her again, no other man was going to be able to give her what he could and he’d make damn sure she realized that.
Her mouth opened, the indignation in her eyes sparking into the spitting fury he recognized, and enjoyed, so well. “What did you say?” she asked through clenched teeth, her anger burning bright enough that he could feel it.
Yeah, he was a sick man, but he found he actually liked her hot temper and her unpredictability. He liked it enough to repeat his caveman, chest-thumping claim. “Mine. You’re mine.”
In a million years, he would’ve never expected her to grab her towel and throw it at his face. He supposed she did it to distract him. And it worked, but probably not the way she intended. The minute he saw her lightly bronzed skin bared, the pale-pink nipples that topped her perky little tits and the smooth, flat plane of her stomach that ended in a little strip of pale-brown hair, he caved. And did as his tiger had been urging him to do for a week, tackling the swearing, snarling, pissed-off Cajun to her sofa.
Chapter Six
Colette found herself naked and sandwiched between her sofa and a hard, hot place. Oh sure, she’d dreamed of this exact position several times. The position that had her naked thighs wrapped around Zachary Trahan’s naked hips and his big, thick cock pressed tightly to her pussy. She just never realized her dreams were absolute shit compared to the real thing.
She hadn’t imagined the hair-roughened body pressing against hers would be a lot different from the nude body of her youthful lovers. She hadn’t known how satiny-smooth his skin was or how the muscles of his shoulders would feel beneath her hands. She needed to let him go, shove him off her, move away from him before he could lead her into temptation. Except this was a temptation she never thought to touch, to smell, or to be buried beneath. It kind of helped that Zach was also a lot heavier than she was, but she found she liked the weight of him. It made her feel as though she had no control, as though she was being ravaged.
Her body thrilled at the thought, especially when he grabbed her hands, pinning them to the sofa on either side of her head. They stared at each other. His eyes were all sexy and gold and slumberous and trained on her. Not some other woman. Her. The breath caught in her throat as he levered himself over her. He was solid and hot. God, he was hot, scorching her where they were plastered together from chest to hips. The massive erection he sported was even hotter, reminding her why she’d stared and let herself be caught.
It was all his fault. He’d mesmerized her with his cock, the subtle bobbing as he climbed the stairs and stalked her, emptying all thoughts of self-preservation from her mind. The man didn’t have a lick of self-consciousness, not that he needed it, but it still awed her. And it was that awe that put her in this position. Captured. Helpless. His for the taking.
Her pussy gave a slow clench of excitement. Colette tried to ignore the moisture gathering along her channel, preparing the way for that much man to enter her. There would be no sex, she told her traitorous body. No fucking. No thrusting. No— He leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose.
“Mine.”
Colette blinked up at him. She’d heard him right. Did he honestly think that was hot? That she would get off on hearing him say that she belonged to—
Zach kissed her cheek. Colette turned her head to the side, not giving him her mouth. She had stuff to say. Important— He kissed his way across her cheek to her ear. He nipped on the lobe, which suddenly seemed to contain a zillion nerve endings and each one of them connected to her pussy.
But even the hard, heavy pounding of her heart couldn’t drown out his growled, “Mine.”
Colette closed her eyes as the moist heat
of his breath caressed her ear. It was one of the most sensitive spots on her body and he seemed to know it, tracing the outer shell with his tongue. Not licking, barely touching her, he caused her blood to heat up. Her pussy ached. She’d thought he turned her on before, when he was just some man who’d kissed her and appeared in her dreams. She hadn’t known what desire and hunger meant before now. Before he set to tormenting her with her own body.
“My Colette.”
Her nipples had tightened when she’d stupidly thrown her towel at his face. Why had she done that again? Oh. Right. She thought it would blind him. If she had breath to spare, she’d snort at her idiocy. He hadn’t even blinked when the towel hit him in the face, his gaze trained on her body. Her very naked, very aroused body. And then wham she found herself here. Under him, with his mouth trailing down her throat, tongue lapping at her skin and his cock leaving a damp trail over her stomach.
“I knew you’d taste like this,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat. “Salty and sweet.”
More cream flowed along her channel, her womb contracting hard at his words. His purr reverberated through her entire body. Colette bit back a whimper. She should not be doing this, this… Whatever this was. But her need, the one that had sparked to life when she first saw him at his bakery demanded to be fulfilled. It demanded appeasement. He slid down her body, the wedge of his torso forcing her thighs wider. Her cheeks burned as she realized the spread lips of her pussy were leaving a line of juices on his rippled abs. He didn’t seem to care, his mouth nibbling and licking and—
Her back arched when he took one of her nipples into his mouth, a strangled whimper catching in her throat. The man was the devil. An absolutely evilly tormenting devil because he released her tight peak before he did more than swirl his tongue around it.
“Mine.”
Colette couldn’t hide her whimper this time. Not when his breath washed over her damp nipple, making her very aware of what he was doing. He was claiming her. The thought alone should have been enough to snap her out of this, but then he was there again, his mouth taking her, his tongue lashing her. She’d read that before, that some hero in a book gave the heroine a tongue lashing and thought it sounded silly.
Maybe it was for others, but with Zach’s tongue flicking and lapping and circling her nipple, Colette found nothing about this silly. It was arousing, amazing, torturous, awful and awesome, but not silly. And then he left her tormented breast to tease the other neglected peak. She squirmed beneath him, not getting far at all. Her thighs were soaked. She was probably leaking all over his stomach, but there was no helping it. Not when he had her pinned and was going at her like a cat with a bowl of cream.
The continuous purring didn’t help either. Not when she could feel it vibrating between her legs. Then he was sliding away from her again, leaving her damp, swollen nipples to the cruel, cool air of her living room. Her arms were free, but there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to stop him. In fact, she held her breath, anticipation and excitement and a touch of fear holding her immobile. His weight wasn’t pinning her down any longer. He didn’t need to because she wasn’t going anywhere. Then his mouth left her skin and he was gone.
Her eyes popped open. A glance down had her cheeks burning hotter than ever. Zach had made her forget that he’d tackled her to the sofa, that she was naked as a jaybird. His mouth had made her forget she was sprawled in the most obscene way, her hips propped up on the arm and her legs spread wide, everything on display for him.
She should have clamped her knees together faster than you could say “sin”, but the glowing gold eyes staring down at her exposed sex, the dangerous glitter and hectic color riding high on his cheekbones made her feel sexy. Not obscene. As though this was the most natural thing in the world, as though offering her body to him in such a blatant position was the perfect conclusion to the crazy tango they’d been a part of.
So instead of closing her legs, instead of covering herself the way she would have with any other man, Colette lifted her arms over her head and arched her back. Surrendering herself to the man who’d touched her heart without even knowing it.
At what point had he died and gone to heaven? Zach couldn’t say. Maybe he’d fallen down the stairs and broken his neck. Or maybe she really shot him this time, not missing the way she had before. Whatever it was that had brought him to this point, he couldn’t be sorry. Not when she lay spread before him like a caramel-and-strawberry dessert topped by whipped cream.
He stood over her, his cock aching and leaking, his balls tighter than ever, and stared. It was all he could do, the awe nearly overwhelming. When he’d tackled her, her hair had fanned out into a wavy, white cloud around her head, the perfect contrast for her red sofa. Violet eyes had gone black with want after he took his time making her pale nipples bright pink and swollen. Her bronze skin, with the slightest difference in color showing where she worked in the sun, was flushed and dewy with want. She sprawled over her sofa, her legs spread wide in welcome, the deep-pink of her swollen folds glistening with her juices.
It was enough to bring any man to his knees and he was no different. There was a loud crack and distant pain when he dropped to the wooden floor, bringing his hungry gaze level with the heart of her body. He hadn’t stopped purring from the moment he tackled her on the sofa and the sound ramped up louder. The scent of her on his skin, her sticky need coating his stomach, all of it combined to make Zach and his animal two of the smuggest sons of bitches this side of the Mississippi.
Normally, with any other woman, he would’ve eased into tasting her, gentled her to his hand. Because with other women, they were scared of him despite their desire. Not with Colette. All he could smell was her vanilla spicy scent and the strong musk of her arousal. All he could see was the way her body wept. For him. No one else. He wanted to mark her, his gums throbbing with the tiger’s need to sink his fangs right into the skin of her inner thigh, but he needed her to come first. Needed to make this so good for her she wouldn’t even realize he was keeping her.
Zach pushed the annoying thought away. His tiger was talking crazy again, something they didn’t need right now. Not with that beautiful, wet cleft beckoning his mouth, his tongue.
Placing a hand on either side of her pussy, he leaned forward and tasted her without preamble. He made a hungry, desperate sound in the back of his throat as he curled his tongue from the entrance of her wet cunt to the swollen pearl of her clit. Salty and sweet, his Colette was like a cool glass of water on a hot summer day. The more he had, the more he wanted, lapping at her, tasting her, drinking her down like a man dying of thirst.
And maybe he had been until now.
All he knew was that the taste of Colette was better than anything he’d ever baked, anything he’d ever tried. He devoured her, nipping, lapping, licking and sucking, oblivious to everything but her unique flavor. He curled his tongue into her cunt, scooping her delicious arousal into his mouth before he circled her tight little nubbin. Over and over, tracing a traveling figure eight with his mouth to make certain he didn’t miss a single square inch of her. Her cries were vague sounds he heard over his constant purring and growling. Her hands tugging at his hair spurred him to take more, to slide two of his fingers into the tight clutch of her pussy.
“Zach!” she screamed, her muscles nearly snapping his questing, searching fingers in half.
The pleasure she gave him, the delicious taste of her, to see her flushed, damp face tightened into a frown of concentration had him forcing his eyes open all for the joy of watching her. Her white teeth sank into her bottom lip as she tugged and pulled on her nipples, tormenting the peaks to a darker color. He curled his fingers inside her cunt, searching for that special spot, and rubbed.
She screamed again, more of her delicious moisture soaking his fingers and running down his hand. He growled, lapping up every drop, his own arousal put on the back burner. He wanted to make her come again and again, until he’d wrung so much pleasure fro
m her that she would never look at another man, until he was so entrenched in her body that it would respond only to him. He went to another place in his mind, his only thoughts to make Colette need him as much as he needed her.
Nothing mattered as much as that. As much as making her realize she was his. When she came down from the orgasm, he brought her back up again. Orgasm after orgasm until they seemed to roll right into one another.
His gaze trailed up the graceful arch of her body to her flushed face. To her parted lips that panted and moaned and cried out his name, to the damp eyelashes trembling on her cheeks. Beautiful. How could he have ever thought she wasn’t? She was exotic and gorgeous, and oh so his.
Zach shoved the goddamn tiger away again, not wanting the distraction, but the animal’s unwelcome thoughts helped center him. Colette’s face was twisted in an expression of tortured pleasure, her knuckles showing white where she gripped the sofa. Her tiny breasts with their flushed peaks, rose and fell as though she’d run a marathon. Sweat glistened on her skin, giving it the appearance of sugar sprinkled over chocolate. Beautiful.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her mound, the scent of her seeping into his pores, and rested his chin on his pussy. His pussy. Some of his urgency had fled during his exploration of Colette’s body. Sure, he couldn’t wait to be inside her, couldn’t wait to feel what it was like to have her tight cunt wrapped around him, squeezing his dick until his eyes rolled to the back of his head, until he wished he could die from pleasure. But it wasn’t as important as soothing her, as necessary as bringing her down gently and easily.
His hands stroked over her smooth, silken skin, not to arouse, but to relax. She was so soft on the outside, but the more he touched her legs, her stomach and ass, her back, the more Zach felt the strength of her lithe body. She was human, but she was strong. She was female, yet she evened the playing field against a predator with fangs and claws. It was sexy as all fuck.
