What the Cat Dragged in (Sanctuary Book 2)

by BA Tortuga

  Brock was out on patrol with Gus. He was taking his role of second very seriously.

  Conner stretched and ran his hand down his belly, his cock twitching at the thought of his mate.

  His turd of a mate, who hadn’t torn him up in weeks.

  Weeks.

  Brock was still treating him like he was made of glass. Not even safety glass. Thin glass. He was healed. Even his throat. Now the bears were gone, the puppies were napping, everyone was healthy, and he wanted.

  What are you up to, Ragbone? The words were husky, curious. I feel you.

  Wishing someone would fuck me into the mattress. I wonder if Gus is busy….

  What? Brock’s mental voice rose to a bark.

  Hmm? Well, my mate doesn’t want me anymore…. This was more fun than horseshoes.

  Are you out of your mind? Brock was on the move, coming closer every second.

  Not any more than I was yesterday, Fuzzy.

  I think you’ve lost it. Brock sounded amused now. Don’t you start without me.

  Okay. But you need to hurry. I need you. He wasn’t dying or anything, but he was hard and wanting a little attention, a little loving.

  I am. The door opened downstairs maybe three seconds later, and the thud of boots sounded against the mat Sam had put in once the snows came.

  Oh, it was damn fine to be needed. He spread himself out, making sure there’d be not a bit of question about what he was wanting. He slid one hand down to hold his cock, showing off.

  Brock leaped the last few feet into the loft and landed lightly. “No touching. That’s mine.”

  “Is it?” Look at that fine man. At his fine man.

  Brock nodded, eyes locked on him, as he stripped off. Oh, someone was cold.

  “You have shrinkage issues, mate.”

  Brock pounced him with a growl, teeth sinking into the curve of his shoulder.

  He laughed for the sheer joy of it, spreading out so Brock could rub all along his body. Shrinkage?

  Mm-hmm. Obviously it’s chilly out there. He rubbed right back.

  “Maybe I need you to warm it up. Put it in your mouth.”

  He smiled and nodded, heading south as Brock went north. Brock straddled his chest, making sure not to push on his ribs, giving him that thick, already hard cock. He nuzzled, openmouthed, as he filled his lungs with Brock-scented air.

  Yes. God, he’d missed this. He licked at the tip, and Brock moaned, the sound ripped out of him. Oh, he was going to make Brock need him, take him like he deserved.

  “Ragbone.” Brock gripped the headboard with one hand, stroking his hair with the other. More.

  God, yes. More. Everything. He grabbed hold of Brock’s hips and sucked, pulling with everything he had.

  No hurting? Brock never wanted to hurt him, and he knew it.

  Only my blue balls.

  Brock’s laugh floated around him. “I can help with that.”

  Promise? I’ve missed you tearing my happy ass up.

  I swear it. Get me good and wet, babe. I need inside you.

  That he could do. He wanted nothing more than to feel every inch, to be as connected as possible with his mate. He was ready to move on, put everything about the fight with Greg behind him.

  Focus, Connor.

  Right. Stay where you are. Exactly. He could do that. He pulled Brock in deeper, licking and lapping, swallowing around the tip.

  “God!” Brock pulled away, sliding back down his body. He thought Brock would stop with those lean hips between his legs, but Brock kept going, slipping down to open his legs wide. “Gonna get you wet now.”

  Anything he could have said disappeared in a rush the second Brock’s tongue touched his hole, and he yowled, his eyes rolling back in his head. The feeling was like lightning running up his spine. He arched hard, his hips rising up.

  Brock put one hand under his ass, supporting him, and licked at him over and over, his nerve endings on fire from it.

  He may have babbled. A lot. Like he was singing Brock’s praises in four-part harmony.

  Brock held his hips and butt, lapping at him, tongue working him hard. When Brock rose up, he licked a long line from base to tip on Connor’s cock.

  “Please. Please, mate. Please.”

  That was clear, right?

  “Just a little more….” Brock added a bit more spit, just to get that big dick wet again, before pushing up between his legs. The tip rubbed him, Brock staring into his eyes.

  “Hey.” Love you. Fuck me. I need.

  “I love you too, Ragbone.” Brock said it out loud, said it like he meant it. Then he pushed deep inside Connor’s ass.

  The burn drew out a yowl, his teeth clicking together as his hips began to move all of their own accord. His body felt hot, his skin on fire. His hole was stretched to the limit, and he was as hard as he’d ever been.

  Brock moaned, lifting him for a better angle, slamming into him.

  This was what he’d needed, been begging for. A good, hard plugging, his lover proving where he belonged. He licked his lips, and Brock understood, folding him damned near in half to kiss him.

  Kitty origami!

  They started to laugh, bodies still moving, driving together as they enjoyed each other. Brock was all warmed up now, skin damp with sweat and flushed. He looked amazing, like some kind of pornalicious god.

  Brock laughed harder, his hips slapping Connor’s ass. “Swear you’ll never stop talking to me, Ragbone.”

  “Never. Never, Fuzzy. Harder.”

  “More,” Brock agreed, sawing back and forth. They were on fire, but they didn’t rush to finish. This was too long coming.

  His fingers were tangled in Brock’s thick chest hair, his butt slapped with Brock’s skin, over and over. He stared at his lover, that feral expression Brock wore telling him it wouldn’t be long.

  You first.

  The demand was just intense enough that he fought it. Connor clenched his asscheeks, bearing down, wanting Brock to shout and spurt and give him everything.

  Brock gritted his teeth, growling deep in his chest and, fuck, that was hot as the hinges of hell. Then Brock grabbed his cock, stroked it up and down.

  “Together,” Brock said, voice guttural.

  “To….” That was the best he could do, because he was soaring, his eyes rolling back in his head and his balls drawing up tight.

  Brock shot inside him, every pulse filling him, letting him know how much Brock wanted him. He spent as well, his hips rocking, his come falling on his chest and belly.

  They slowed, panting together as they eased down onto the mattress.

  “Missed that smell,” Brock moaned. “Crave it.”

  “You can have it whenever you want it.”

  “Promise me that. No more taking on bears. Either of us.” Brock rolled up on one elbow to kiss him.

  “Only to save you, hmm? You know that I would do it again, to save you.”

  “Maniac Kitty.” Brock spooned him so they could both look out the window at the snow. “Not sure we’ll get out to outfit the house until spring, babe.”

  “We’ll make do. This is a good room, and we’re together.” He liked that he could see their house from here too.

  “We will. I kind of like having all winter to make all the details amazing. Gus lent me his carving tools to do the stairs.”

  “You must be pack now.” Connor snuggled in, his purr filling his chest. “Thanksgiving is coming, then Christmas, then bear babies. We’ll have plenty to do.”

  “I know.” Brock rubbed one hand over his hip, drawing circles. “I haven’t had a Christmas with family since I left home. I was still just a pup.”

  “I haven’t ever had a Christmas with my mate. We’ll have each other and our pack. Sam and Gus and the babies and Evie and…. It’s going to be amazing.” He had no doubt. None at all.

  “We will. God, think of all the firsts we get to have together.” Brock nibbled at his neck, making goose bumps rise.

  “You’
re happy, Brock? You don’t feel… trapped here?” He hoped not. Hell, he was pretty damn sure he knew better, but he wanted to hear it.

  “Not one bit.” Brock moved closer still, until no space separated them. “I love you. You found me. This is the life I want, and I’m not letting it go. You’re my mate, Ragbone. Get used to it.”

  “Okay.” Like he was going to give Brock up even if the fuzzy turkey did feel trapped. He’d found Brock, and now he knew that Brock had found him just as much. He had a heartbeat, a constant that would remind him how to get home.

  Connor didn’t see how either one of them could ever get lost again.

  Epilogue

  Brock watched Connor kick and mumble, listening with his ears and his mind to see if he could hear what was going on in there.

  They’d ended up sleeping in their own loft overnight, their enormous platform king-size bed full of the puppies who had come to watch the Aristocats and eat popcorn. And jerky treats. And taco pie.

  There had been room for them in the bed, but oh God, the pooting.

  It was almost as bad as the infamous falafel accident of New Year’s Eve.

  That had damn near killed them all—cats, dogs, and bears. Sam had a sign on his fridge door that read No falafel for Teeny.

  Brock frowned as Connor twisted again, his mate dreaming hard about… the ocean? The water. It was absolutely the water, and there was a shore.

  Didn’t look Gulf Coast, which was the one beach he knew well. No seawall, too many rocks.

  He waited as long as he could, because he knew Connor needed to see it all. When the thrashing started to get dangerous, though, he woke Connor with a brusque shake.

  Connor’s eyes popped open. “We have to go west. We need to. Something’s waiting for us at the water’s edge.”

  Brock stroked that sweaty hair off Connor’s face. “I packed the go bags a week ago. As soon as the runoff started.”

  “Good. Good. West. We’ll make for the coast and see whether we’re heading south or north. I don’t know. Not yet. It’s time to go find things. Maybe treasure. We’ve never found treasure together. Or rocks. Gus likes rocks. I need to tell Sam that we’re fixin’ to go, because he wants to know. Mustang or pickup, do you think?”

  Lord, his mate was ramped as hell. “I think the truck this time.” He had feelings of his own these days. Maybe Connor was rubbing off on him, or maybe he was just more open to something he’d always had.

  “Good. Good.” Connor sat up, odd eyes shining in the darkness. “We’ll be back soon, don’t worry, but we can’t wait or we’ll miss it.”

  The urgency was on them both. Brock felt it like electricity, zipping between them.

  “You get Sam and tell him what’s what. I’ll round up the babies and get them to moms and dads.” He grabbed sweatpants and shimmied into them. “Then I’ll load the truck while you get snacks.”

  “All right.” Connor stopped, staring at him, into him, like his Ragbone could see the world in him. “I love you, mate.”

  “I love you too.” Brock took a kiss, adrenaline pumping through him, the thrill of the chase really getting him revved up.

  “Good. Let’s go. The finding’s on us.” He got a grin, a wiggle of the tightest ass in the history of the earth, and then his mate bounced down the stairs. He saw the lights come on in the main house, Sam’s face appearing like magic in the kitchen window.

  Brothers.

  Somehow those two were brothers, attached at the soul.

  Brock shook his head. He would have to check in with Gus too, make sure the Alpha knew how to get ahold of his second when he needed Brock.

  He nodded and grabbed the blanket off the bed downstairs when he rousted the babies. They’d want it at the hotel. Connor slept better with familiar smells.

  Brock herded puppies and sleepy girls back to their own houses before jogging over to see Gus, who waited for him on the back porch.

  “Connor telling Sam?” Brock asked.

  “Of course. And Sam’s packing food. You’ll keep me in the loop?”

  “Absolutely. Just like you’ll call me if you need me to come home.” With new bear babies and all the work coming up to put in solar and wind power, Gus would need him home more than gone.

  “I will. Find something amazing. I can’t wait to hear what it is.”

  “Me either.” It never ceased to amaze him what Connor found for them. He gave Gus a hug, no longer the least bit awkward about it. “Y’all behave.”

  “With all these yahoos? Never going to happen. Take care of yourself.”

  “We always do.” Connor’s hand landed on the small of his back. “I’ll bring him home soon, but I need him.”

  “I know. This is part of his job, Connor.”

  Sam walked out carrying a big paper bag. “Food.” Sam hugged him tight. “Keep you both safe, you hear me?”

  Brock nodded, serious as a heart attack. “I swear to do my best.”

  “Me too. Time to go. Come on, mate. Let’s go. Take care of my car, Sam!”

  Sam laughed maniacally, and Brock took Connor’s hand. They just needed their bags. And more clothes.

  Their next adventure was on. Brock couldn’t wait to see what it was.

  Or who it was.

  Either way, what bliss.

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  About the Author

  Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy's Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds, getting tattooed, texting her grandbabies, and eating Mexican food. When she's not doing that, she's writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA's personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friends, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.

  Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting GLBT romance, to fiery ménages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head.

  BA loves to talk to her readers and can be found at http://batortuga.com/.

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