by Sophie Stern
“Are you ready for me, human? Because I don’t think I can wait another moment to sink inside of you.”
“I’m ready, Oliver,” I whisper, and as he kisses me, he thrusts inside of me, filling me. “Oh my dragons,” I groan. “You feel incredible.”
“You’re so damn tight,” he murmurs.
“I do my best.”
“Well, your best is fucking incredible.”
He kisses me, touching me, running his hands over me as he makes love to me because somewhere, somehow, this changed from being a fast fuck to being sweet, intimate, and Oliver can’t seem to keep his paws off of my body.
Soon, he starts fucking me faster, harder, and the pressure begins to grow inside my body once more. He’s going to give me that second orgasm, as promised, but somehow, right now, all that matters is that it’s with him.
Somehow, all that matters is we’re locked in this moment together.
“Come for me, beautiful,” he whispers, biting my ear, and that’s all it takes. One word from Oliver, and I’m putty in his hands.
I come apart.
My orgasm washes over me in waves and I cling to him as I cry out. I cling to him in this moment, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters, like he’s the only one who can keep me from being washed to sea.
And then he bites my ear.
“I can’t hold back any longer,” he purrs. “I’m going to come in you, Anna Donovan.”
“Please,” I whisper, panting. “Please come in me. Please.”
And then he does.
I feel him pulsing inside of me. His eyes close as his own orgasm takes hold of his body, filling him with pleasure, with ecstasy. I hold onto him: one hand on his back, one on his face.
And then it’s over.
He slides off of me and rests next to me, keeping one hand on my belly. He looks at me and my heart swells. He’s looking at me like I’m beautiful, like I’m incredible, like he can’t quite believe what just happened between us.
“Wow,” I murmur.
“That was lovely. You were lovely.”
“I could say the same, tiger.”
“I like it when you call me that.
“Tiger?”
“Yeah.”
“Nobody else calls you that?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “They call me lion.”
“Because of your name.”
“Because people like to fuck with me.”
“You mean your colleagues.”
“Everyone,” he says, and I get the distinct feeling that Oliver is sharing something important with me, something he doesn’t tell people very often. I get the feeling that he’s confiding in me, and I’m not really sure why except that there seems to be this strange rope of trust between us.
There’s something tugging us together, holding us in place, and I have the feeling that nothing is going to be able to tear us apart. It’s a strange feeling, and it’s one I’m not entirely comfortable with.
The word mates floats through my head, but that’s a shifter fairytale.
Mates aren’t real, no matter how much people say they are, no matter how much people like to pretend they are.
No, what happened between me and Oliver was a spur-of-the-moment choice between two consenting, informed adults.
It wasn’t because we’re destined to be together.
It wasn’t fate.
It couldn’t be.
Chapter 6
Oliver
“I should go.”
Anna’s words hang in the air, dangling like a spider from a web. I don’t say anything right away. Instead, I pull her closer to myself, selfishly trying to get another minute or two with her in my arms.
When she leaves, anything could happen, but as long as she’s right here, we’re locked in this moment together, and I don’t want to lose that. I want her to stay right here, want her to stay right with me. I want her to be right here in my arms.
I want her.
All of her.
And maybe that makes me selfish. In fact, I know it makes me selfish. I don’t know her. I don’t own her. I’m not committed to her, but something deep inside of me wants to be. I want to be connected to Anna. I want to be a part of her.
She’s your mate.
The thought rushes through my brain – or maybe my heart – and back out again, but the damage is done.
I don’t believe in mates.
The idea of mates is a fairytale, at least for me. Yeah, my friends may have found their true loves and that’s great for them. I’ve never seen Ronan and Landon quite as happy as they are when they’re with their darlings, but that doesn’t mean I’m convinced “mates” exist.
When you’re a shifter, you’re already kind of on the outside. You already have kind of a hard time. People aren’t necessarily going to like you. If you’re raised in a shifter community and are only later exposed to the human world, you’re probably going to be a little weird and have some strange quirks that set you apart from humans.
There’s also a lot of lore that comes from being raised in a shifter world. Mates are one of them. I know that wolves, in particular, place a huge emphasis on mates. They even do this thing where they bite their partner during sex.
Yeah, tigers don’t do that.
What can I say? I’m a lover, not a biter.
I don’t have any interest in physically marking the woman I choose to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t need to do that in order to know she’s mine, in order to know I’m hers. When I find that woman, I’ll know it, and I’ll do anything to protect her and take care of her.
And I don’t know why I’m looking at Anna like this because I’ve never met anyone I’ve considered marrying.
I’m old enough to have had a few long-term relationships. I won’t say “serious” because I never wanted to get married, but I’m experienced. I know how to physically take care of a woman, how to please a woman. I know full well what’s expected of me in the bedroom.
The emotional give-and-take of relationships has always confused me, though, and it’s always been something I’m not really interested in. I don’t like opening up to people. I don’t like them knowing things about me.
But as Anna snuggles against me and allows me to just hold her, I can’t help but wonder why it feels so peaceful, why it feels so right. Holding this woman, who is a stranger to me, shouldn’t make me feel complete.
It shouldn’t make me feel whole.
I take a deep breath, and then I kiss her on the forehead.
“I should go,” I say, echoing her words.
“Time to get to work?” She asks quietly, turning to look at me. She’s still covered in a thin layer of sweat. I put that there. I made love to her and now she’s sweaty. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is messed. She looks like a woman who was taken care of.
She looks content.
And I feel content when I look at her, though I can’t really say why.
“I should get started on your case,” I tell her. “I have some time before my next appointment, so I’ll see what I can do about getting you an appointment with the judge.”
Anna nods and gets up. She starts walking around, looking for her clothes. As she finds each piece, she slowly gets dressed, and watching her is its own sort of sexiness. Stripping a woman is one thing, but watching her get redressed is enticing all on its own.
Except now I’m just thinking about how sexy she looks under all those clothes.
I’m remembering the way she looks when she comes, and I know I’m never going to be able to look at Anna Donovan in the same way again.
“Thank you for helping me out,” she says, slipping her shirt on over her head. She smiles at me. “I know you took my case on short notice.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“It was quite a pleasure, wasn’t it?”
We look at each other for a moment and there’s a sort of tension in the air. Will Anna and I sleep together a
gain? I want to, and judging by the way her eyes keeping sliding to my cock, she’s not opposed to the idea. Sleeping with a client is a horrible idea, which is why I never do it, but she’s different.
I feel like it’s fine to make an exception for Anna.
It’s totally fine to let my guard down just this once.
“So what happens now?” She’s slipping her boots on and I realize I should get dressed, too. Clothes. Clothes are good. I find my shirt and pull it on. Then I start looking around for my boxers.
“I’ll see what I can do about getting you an appointment with a judge. If we’re lucky, he’ll be able to see you in the next month. Then you can contest the trust. We’ll argue that the clause is outdated and was possibly slipped in without your father’s knowledge.”
“And if we’re not lucky?”
I sigh as I wiggle into my jeans. I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen to Anna if we don’t get an appointment with the judge, or if the judge won’t demand the conditions of the trust be altered. A tiger clause is ridiculous. It’s absurd. It’s a terrible thing to put into a trust and it’s awful that Anna is dealing with this.
“If we’re not lucky, then there’s only one way you’re getting your trust,” I tell her with a little growl. I’m more upset than I should be about her situation. It’s not fair to her. She’s sweet and innocent. She doesn’t deserve what’s happening.
“Getting married to a shifter,” she says with a sigh. She’s finished getting dressed and is sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me to finish. I slip my shoes on and stand up, looking at her.
“Getting married to a shifter,” I repeat.
“Guess it’s time for me to download Turntable,” she says. “’Cause I’m pretty sure I just ran out of luck.”
Chapter 7
Anna
Oliver Lyon is the hottest fucking man on the face of the planet and I think I might have a huge, not-so-tiny, not-so-manageable crush on him. My consultation today was free, so I don’t need to stop in and see Joyce to pay for anything. I’m thinking that if I can make it downstairs without being too loud, I might be able to slip outside unnoticed, but once again, fate has other plans for me.
“Exploring the building?” Joyce says when Oliver and I reach the bottom stairs. She raises an eyebrow and smirks, letting me not-so-subtly know that she knows.
“You could say that,” I say. “But I call it fucking.”
Next to me, I feel Oliver tense, but Joyce bursts out laughing.
“All right, girl,” she offers me her fist and I bump it. “Get some.” She looks at Oliver. “Lyon,” she says. “Nice job. She looks very satisfied.” Then Joyce disappears down the hall.
“What the actual fuck?” Oliver whispers.
“What?”
“You just told her.”
“Like she didn’t know.”
“But you didn’t have to tell her.”
“I don’t do games and I don’t do bullshit, Oliver. You should know this about me. We’re both adults. Neither one of us is married. As far as I know, you don’t have a girlfriend or reason you wouldn’t be ‘allowed’ to sleep with me. It’s not a big deal. It was sex, and oh, it was good sex. Hot as hell, in my opinion. You bet your ass I’m telling all of my girlfriends about this.”
“Um, okay,” Oliver suddenly looks nervous. He’s not used to being around women who are blunt, I realize. Do women tend to sneak around when it comes to him? Do they use him? Is that what he’s worried about? And then it hits me: he’s a lawyer. He’s a big attorney in Bradshaw and he’s not going to want people to know what happened. He doesn’t need the womanizer reputation it would bring.
“Hey,” I smile. “Don’t worry. I would never tell anyone your name or any identifying details. I just mean I’ll tell my friends I slept with someone super incredible who taught me something new.”
“What did I teach you?”
“That bravery in bed can be very rewarding,” I lean up on my tippy-toes and give him a soft kiss goodbye. “Thank you, Oliver.”
“I should be thanking you.”
“If you really feel that way, you should take me to dinner.”
“Is that right?”
“You don’t strike me as the traditional type,” I tell him. “Do you think you should be the one to invite me out?”
“Not at all. Dinner sounds delicious,” he sounds amused.
“You have my number,” I tell him. “Call me. We’ll set something up.”
Then, before anything else crazy happens, before I find myself back upstairs in Oliver’s bed and in his arms, I turn and walk out the door. I don’t look back. I just walk away and head to my car, start the engine, and leave.
I leave the law offices of Casa, Fee, and Lyon, and I drive to work.
The whole time, I’m just thinking that I’m in so over my head.
So over my head.
*
I work halfway between my house and Lyon’s office. The language school I work at offers beginner, intermediate, and advanced level classes for students who want to learn a foreign language. We teach both children and adults, but since I don’t teach until the afternoon, my morning schedule is totally flexible. This means that when I pull in late to the office, no one cares or notices. Everyone else runs errands in the morning, too.
After stopping by my desk in the shared office, I pour myself a cup of coffee and try not to think about my morning too much. Spending time with Oliver was fantastic. No, we didn’t do a lot of talking, but neither one of us seemed to need that right now. I think what we both needed was to blow off a little steam and as far as I’m concerned, we got to do that and it was incredible.
It was more than incredible.
It was hot.
Fantastic.
Dirty.
It was wild, and even though he pushed me and asked me to try some new things, I still felt like I was in control. If there’s one thing I haven’t felt in awhile, it’s control. My whole world has been spinning since my mom died and I don’t think it’s going to slow down anytime soon.
No, I think things are going to get crazier and crazier for me unless Oliver can actually convince a judge I shouldn’t have to get married to someone I don’t love. If he can’t do it, I’m going to have to get on Turntable and find a guy. I’m going to have to find someone who is not only bearable to hang out with, but who’s a shifter. I’m going to have to find someone who’s willing to be married to me for a year and then get a quiet divorce.
And the thing about shifters is that they tend to mate for life.
Finding someone to marry me is going to be hard, but someone willing to get a divorce? That’s going to be even tougher, and the truth is that the idea of getting a divorce still makes me uncomfortable. It’s not that I would feel like I was using someone, even though that’s totally the case. It’s more that I really do have a fairytale view of marriage. It’s that I really do think you should marry someone and it should be forever.
“Rough morning?” I jump at the sound of Rita’s voice. “Sorry, thought you saw me,” she says, coming up beside me and pouring herself a cup of the questionable brown liquid. Oh, it’s coffee. Sort of. Who knows how old it is, though? I need to start doing what the Spanish teachers do and bring my own coffee from home. That’s what travel mugs are for.
“I just had some errands to do,” I tell the redhead. Rita is one of the administrators at our school. Advantage Language Mentors offers one of the best language programs in Kansas. Our students come from not only Bradshaw, but from surrounding towns, as well, in order to learn the language of their choice.
“You teaching today?”
“Not until after lunch.”
“Same,” she says, sipping her coffee. “But I have a ton of lesson plans to finish before then.” Even though Rita is an admin, she’s substituting this week because one of the teachers recently quit and hasn’t been replaced.
“Things have been pretty busy lately.�
��
“We need to replace Brian as quickly as possible,” Rita confides in me. “After he quit, everything kind of went to hell in the French department.”
“Well, the school’s pretty lucky you know enough French to teach the beginner classes.”
“You’re telling me,” she rolls her eyes. “I tell you what, Anna, no one ever truly appreciates us.” She shakes her head. “Not the students, not the parents, and certainly the other teachers.” She sighs. “Sorry, I’m just being negative because I’m tired.”
“No, it’s totally fine,” I smile. “I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes this job totally sucks because we don’t get a lot of praise. The students come in and haven’t finished their homework or don’t know the vocabulary for the week, and it sucks. We push and push and push and there’s very little thanks in this job.”
“How do you do it?” She asks, leaning in and lowering her voice, like it’s a secret. “You’re one of the best language instructors we have.”
“Well, when things get hard, I just try to remember why I learned American Sign Language. My best friend in high school was deaf and instead of texting her all the time, I wanted to learn her language. I started taking classes my junior year and majoring in ASL in college just seemed natural. So when my students don’t know something, or they’re struggling, I try to remember that I didn’t start teaching in order to be praised. I started teaching because I love the language so much.”
“I’m not going to lie, Anna. I’ve never really felt that way about French.” Rita shrugs. “I mean, I can speak it pretty damn well and I’ve been all over Quebec and Paris, but I don’t have the joy you seem to have.”
“Not everyone is meant to be teaching,” I tell her honestly. “And that’s fine. Maybe teaching isn’t your thing. Maybe you prefer to be on the paperwork end of things. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Thank you. I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed with everything this week, you know, and I appreciate that. It’s nice to know that not everyone thinks I’m a huge failure for not enjoying teaching.”
“I don’t think anyone thinks you’re a failure.”
