Wild Cat

by Christine Feehan

  "Nothing for you to worry about, baby," he said, and ran his finger over her nipple, watching it form a hard peak. Distracting her.

  She shivered, drew in a breath, but sat up, shoving at the long hair neither of them had braided before they'd fallen asleep. "Tell me, Elijah."

  "I said not to worry about it," he repeated. This time he used his rough, leopard voice, the one that no one defied.

  She lifted her chin at him. Lifted her chin. The little defiant chin that made his cock harder than a rock and made his leopard snarl and leap for the surface.

  He shook his head, eyes glittering, more cat than human. The leopard roared with savage, brutish need to dominate. "Back the fuck off, Siena. This shit isn't touching you any more than it already has. This is my mess. Mine. Drake's. Your grandfather's. You have no business being caught in the middle of it, and if it's the last thing I do, I'm making sure you're out of it."

  Her mouth opened and then closed with a snap as her green eyes darkened from emerald to a dangerous forest. Her face flushed. "Did you just tell me to back the f-word off?"

  She sounded incredulous. Pissed. Adorable. His body, already painfully hard, began to burn. Heat rushed through his veins. Little jackhammers began tripping in his head. He tried to breathe away the need.

  "The f-word? Baby." There was no stopping his grin. No way. He wanted to lean down and kiss her mouth.

  "Don't you dare laugh at me, Elijah," she snapped. "For your information, this shit is my shit. I brought it with me. It was never yours. So I have every right to know what's going on and help figure out what to do about it." She leaned closer, tilting her head to his. "Do you get me?"

  That lean. That head tilt. She was fucking finished and she didn't even know it. "Yeah, babe, I get you, but you'd better fucking get me." He framed her face with both hands, and his cock jerked hard against his stomach. His body moved aggressively into hers. "My woman doesn't have shit touch her, hers or mine. I'd give you the world, walk on water for you, give you whatever the hell you think you want, but not this. This shit doesn't touch you again."

  He slammed his mouth down on hers, using his weight to drive her back to the mattress. Her body was soft, all lush curves, and he ran one hand over them, stopping to tug at her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and finger hard. She gasped into his mouth, arching her back.

  "Open your legs," he instructed against her mouth. Kissing her. Devouring her. Claiming her.

  "Elijah." She put one hand on his chest, trying to push at him.

  He caught both wrists in one of his hands and slammed them above her head, holding them pinned there while the other continued to travel over her body. "Right fucking now, Siena. Spread your legs for me."

  His mouth was back on hers, capturing her shocked protest. Taking the taste of her into him, that sweet honey she never withheld from him, not even now when she was finding him bossy and annoying. She spread her legs. He rewarded her with a nip on her chin and a bite on her neck that turned into a nice strawberry.

  "Wider, baby, wrap your legs around mine." He bit at the swell of her breast. Left another strawberry, loving to see his marks on her.

  She complied, hooking her legs around his hips.

  "You wet for me?" He knew she was. He knew she liked his bossy. More, she loved his kisses. His rough. His sweet. His woman liked it all. "You ready, baby? Because I'm burning up."

  "Let go of my hands. I want to touch you." Her hips bucked under his.

  "No." He left a string of strawberries across her breasts and then suckled. Strong. Used the flat of his tongue. Her breasts were sensitive, and her entire body bucked. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She tried to free her hands, but he kept her pinned. "You didn't earn that, baby. You argued with me first thing."

  She went still, fury gathering in her eyes. He loved riling her. Loved that beauty, and she was easy to rile. Passionate. She might say he scared her, but she had no hesitation going up against him. Even as she glared at him, her hips pushed against his.

  "I didn't earn that?"

  She hissed it, her leopard just as close as his. He guided his cock to her hot entrance, to the paradise he knew was there. She was dripping. Slick. So scorching hot there was no way he was waiting. And he didn't. He slammed home. Hard. Brutal. The way he needed. The way she needed.

  Her sheath clamped down on his cock, strangling him in slick, living silk, a brutal, beautiful fist that worked him as he hammered in and out of her. Her hips rose to meet his every thrust, her body jolting, breasts thrust up and moving with every deep stroke. Her face was a mask of sheer beauty, sensual passion in every line, eyes dark with lust and a little dazed, just the way he loved to see, as if he took her mind and filled it with him.

  "More, honey. I need harder," she whispered.

  "Earns you back your hands, baby," he managed to bite out between his teeth. He let go of her wrists, wrapped his arms under her knees and yanked her bottom up, nearly folding her in half, giving himself more leverage.

  Instantly her hands went to his buttocks, fingers digging deep. He felt the sharp nails sinking into him, urging him to take her harder. Yeah. She liked his bossy. She liked his protection. She liked her man in charge. She might not know it, but she definitely responded to his commands.

  He lost himself in her, burying himself deep in that haven of sheer bliss. He let her sweep him into another place where he wasn't covered in dirt and shit. Where he was clean and his woman worshiped him. Where he could live free and feel like a man instead of a fucking killer with blood on his hands. She gave him that.

  She held him to her, wrapped him up, he felt that gift even when she was consuming him, the fire raging hotter than it ever had. He could hear the little noises she made in her throat. Frantic. Sobbing his name. Music. Sweet. Sexy. He stared down into her face even as he increased the brutal thrusts. Savage now. He couldn't get enough of her. Couldn't bury himself deep enough. Rocking both of them.

  He felt her building. Coiling. Her sheath gripped hard. Clamped down. "Wait," he hissed. "You wait for me."

  "I can't, honey," she gasped.

  "Damn it, fucking wait," he growled, increasing the pace, slamming harder. Giving himself up to her. Burning from the inside out.

  Her fingers dug deep, but she held on for him. Fought back the tsunami as it built and built. He felt it then, coming at both of them, a tidal wave, throwing them both high, consuming them, burning him clean, so clean he didn't recognize himself. She did that to him, turned him inside out until he was in pieces scattered at her feet.

  He buried his face in her neck, his teeth in her skin. His heart pounding as the earth moved all around him, shaking him up. Deep inside, where no one could see, he let fear sweep through him. He had lost everything good in his life practically before his life had even started. Now there was Siena. Now there was a priceless gift, a treasure so unexpected and beautiful, he knew if she were taken from him he wouldn't survive intact.

  Her arms went around him, hands sliding down the sheen of sweat on his back. He allowed her legs to drop to the mattress, the action sending ripples of aftershock through both of them. He closed his eyes and breathed in their combined scents, feeling sated. He knew it wouldn't last long, but with her scent surrounding him and her soft body crushed beneath his, his cock softening inside her heat, he felt content.

  "Honey, roll over," she whispered softly. "You're squashing me."

  He was. He knew it. He had given her his weight, but he needed to. He needed to feel her there beneath him--his. He licked at the bite mark on her neck and then complied, rolling them both so she was sprawled on top of him. She lifted her head, her green eyes moving over his face. Seeing too much. He couldn't give her any more or he'd be so lost in her he'd never find his way out. He had a job to do, one that required the bastard. The killer. Not the man he saw in her eyes.

  He moved his hips, allowing himself to slide from the haven of her body as he rolled off of her. "Gotta go, baby. Drake's waiting."
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  She pinned him with her green eyes. Cat eyes. Focused. Glittering. "You can stay right there until I'm done, Elijah." She sounded every bit as bossy as he did, although on her it was rather adorable. She moved down his body, keeping a hand on his belly, fingers splayed wide. "You are such an ass sometimes." She hissed the accusation, bending her head to his hips, licking up the indentation along his bone. "You had your fun and you aren't moving until I say so. Got that?"

  He sank his hands into that thick sweep of hair meaning to pull her head up, to keep her from undoing him more, but he couldn't actually take that away from her. Or take it away from him. He just lay there, both hands sifting through the mass of her hair, all that silk. It moved over his skin as she began to clean him. Using her mouth. That warm, soft mouth, that velvet rasp of a tongue.

  "Dios, mi amorcito, I got it." She was killing him. Bringing him beauty when his entire life had been a fucking nightmare.

  Emotion welled up, threatening to choke him. He felt the burn behind his eyes and he nearly pulled her off of him, his body going rigid. She was stripping him bare. Removing, layer by layer, the armor he'd spent a lifetime growing around his heart and soul. She saw him. Deep where he hid. Where that small, tiny piece of humanity he guarded was cowering. Protected. She had that. She saw that. Anyone else he would have killed. But Siena . . . He belonged to her. Heart and soul. That last piece of him was in her hands. He'd given that to her without knowing it, and it was far too late to take it back.

  "Honey?"

  She whispered the soft inquiry against his shaft. He felt the vibration right through his body. Her fingers stroked caresses there and then lower, to his suddenly aching balls. Taking her time. Paying attention. The insides of his thighs, her mouth following her hands. He shuddered. Still tense. So vulnerable he feared he would shatter into a million pieces and he would never be the same.

  "What is it? Tell me." That was whispered against the base of his shaft. Her tongue curled. Lapped around the base of his cock, finding every crease and sending waves of heat riding up his shaft. Blood pooled low. Wicked. Sinful. His personal miracle.

  "I can't ever let that vile shit touch you, baby. Not ever. I don't want you angry with me because I am who and what I am. I have to protect you. Keep you like this. Keep you safe and protect that innocence in you. I have to." God. His voice was so raw his throat burned.

  "All right." She licked up his shaft, curled her tongue around him and then pressed a kiss to the crown. Her tongue tasted the pearly drops waiting there.

  "All right?" he repeated, whispering because he couldn't find his voice. Not believing his little spitfire would give that to him without a fight.

  "I won't be angry, Elijah," she promised, pressing kisses up his shaft. "Just relax and let me show you how I feel about you. I want you to hear me when I'm talking, saying what needs to be said." She pressed another kiss on the flared crown and then her mouth engulfed him. Took him. Swallowed him.

  His entire body came to life. Every cell. He'd been semihard and he instantly swelled. Thickened. Lengthened. She was talking all right, and he was hearing her. He'd just come and he'd come hard and suddenly he was on fire. Burning. Her mouth worked him, tongue stroking and dancing, curling around him, rubbing the underside of the crown in that sweet spot.

  He opened his mouth to caution her, but nothing came out. She took him up fast and he could already feel his balls drawing up, hard as twin rocks, boiling with need. She devoured him, suckling hard, rubbing with her tongue, her hands moving over his thighs, cupping his sac, pressing between his buttocks. He found himself thrusting into her mouth, and he didn't honestly know who had the control. He didn't feel in control. He felt insane with lust. With love. With everything a man could feel for a woman and more. His fists tightened in her hair, holding her head to him. That didn't scare her or deter her.

  He hit the back of her throat and felt her choke, and then she breathed deep and took him deeper. Swallowing. Massaging him with the muscles of her throat. Giving him that. Giving him something so beautiful he could barely comprehend. He was dazed, shocked, pumping into her mouth, guiding her with her own hair.

  Her mouth was hot and tight and she didn't stop. She made little desperate noises, as if she couldn't get enough of him. As if she was so hungry for him, she was frantic. Every sound she made vibrated through his cock, adding to the fire scorching him. Her fingers dug deep into his buttocks, urging his hips to move into her. Her mouth tightened as he moved in and out. Then he was there. He felt it moving through him, shattering him. Hot jets of his essence pouring into her, down her throat, and the suction softened, gentled, became tender and sweet.

  Elijah lay there, one hand covering his eyes, breathing deep, unable to process what she'd just given him. What she was still giving him. His eyes burned like a son of a bitch. His throat felt raw. For the first time he knew what real love felt like. Intense. Scary. Painful. So fucking painful. He was Elijah Lospostos. Just about every member of his family had been nothing but brutal and vile. There was no sweet. There was no clean, and there was no woman loving and adoring.

  "I don't deserve you, Siena," he choked out.

  She licked up his shaft, over the sensitive crown, and then pressed kisses over him, kissing her way up to his belly where she laid her head. Her hair slid over him like a cover of silk.

  "You deserve me, Elijah. You're arrogant and bossy and I'm going to have to kick you once in a while, but your sweet takes my breath away."

  He sifted his fingers through her hair. "Baby, I really have to go. Take a hot bath or you're going to be sore. I don't want you sore for very selfish reasons. As soon as I take care of whatever it is Drake needs me for, I'll fix us dinner."

  She turned her head, chin digging into his belly, her eyes on his face. "I like that you cook."

  "I'm a good cook." He enjoyed cooking. It reminded him of his grandmother, the one person in his life who had been really good to him.

  "I'm not. But I want to learn. Will you teach me?"

  "I don't mind being the cook."

  "I'd like to learn at least how to make a few dishes. You're mine, honey," she said softly, pressing a kiss on his belly. "You take care of me however you need to, but know that I'm going to take care of you my way--the way I need to. You have to give me that. That includes in the kitchen and in our bed."

  "Siena. Woman, you're killing me." Because it was true. The absolute truth.

  She lifted her head again, chin back against his abs, her green eyes moving over his face. "Can you do that, Elijah? Let me have this. Let me have all of you." She stretched her body over his, sat up, straddling him. She leaned into him, kissing the hollow of his throat as her hands swept over his chest. She trailed kisses down the middle of his chest to his belly button.

  "That means talking to me when you're angry or upset. Giving me that guidance so I can give you whatever you need." Her gaze jumped back to his face. "Can you give that to me?"

  His heart nearly stopped in his chest. She sat astride him, her sex pressed to his. Her body was straight, breasts jutting toward him, full and enticing. His. Her narrow rib cage and small tucked-in waist emphasized the curve of her hips. All his. Her expression was soft. Tender even. Soft like her skin and her lush curves.

  "I can do that, mi vida," he agreed. He could barely choke the words out around the lump in his throat.

  She was killing him and she didn't even know it. She was peeling away the man he'd been and letting out the one he wanted to be--for her. He knew she was wrapped so tight around his heart there was no escaping. He'd do anything to keep her. He didn't dare show that to the rest of the world. He was going to have to walk a very thin line to keep her safe.

  She pressed another kiss to his belly, slid her hand up his chest and shifted off of him. "I'll go take a hot bath and then join you in the kitchen for my first cooking lesson."

  "Wear that long skirt of yours for me. The one that has all the ruffles falling to the floor." He loved that
skirt on her. She embodied feminine. From the first time he'd ever met Siena, she had loved girlie things. She wasn't a jeans kind of girl. She owned them and wore them, but she definitely preferred skirts.

  She smiled at him. Soft. Her expression taking his breath, her eyes teasing. "You can wonder whether or not I'm wearing panties under it while you're cooking for me."

  He caught her wrist as she slid off the bed, stopping her, looking up at her from where he lay. She was naked. All bare skin and lush curves. Beautiful. "Who do you belong to, Siena?"

  Her green eyes drifted over his face. Over his body. Touching him without actually skimming her fingers over his skin. He felt that look. It seared him. Claimed him. Along with the soft there was possession. Tenderness. Things that knotted his belly more. That sent fear curling through him--the ugly snake that said any enemy could slay him, using her.

  "I ask you a question, baby, I expect an answer," he said quietly, but with an edge to his voice. She had to know. She had to always know.

  "I belong to you, Elijah."

  "You get that we're leopards. Shifters."

  She frowned, uncertain where he was going.

  "Yes. I don't know much about that part of who I am, but yes, I know we're both shifters."

  "What you need to get, mi amorcito, is that leopards don't like other males around their woman. Around their mate. My male is bonded to your female. He's going to need her regularly, and he isn't going to want any other male close to her. I don't want any other male close to you. Don't touch any of the men."

  He saw her shut down. Her green eyes glittered and she took a step back. He didn't relinquish his hold on her wrist. His fingers tightened, shackling her to him as he sat up. "Don't get all pissy on me, Siena. I'm telling you a fact we both have to live with. I've got a male that rides me hard and I'm part of that. I feel that. You're mine. You belong to me. I need you safe, and I need other men to back the hell off. That means you don't encourage them . . ."

  "Encourage them?" She spat the words out. "Let go of me. I'm going to take my bath, and I suggest you go soak your head in a bucket of water. I don't flirt with other men. I certainly don't touch them and I don't care for the implication you're making."