Page 49 of Warlander Beast Cat

The way he looked at her drew her animal closer to the surface, and she returned his smile, lifting her chin higher into the air. Her nerves faded like fog in sunshine.

“What color?” he asked, and she knew what he meant. What color were her panties? Had she put on the ones he’d picked out? He liked this game. He liked to see if she would give in, but she hadn’t.

“I’m not wearing the panties you picked out,” she purred, sauntering slowly, step by step, toward him.

“Mmmm, cherry granny panties?” he guessed. “You aren’t ready to do what I need yet, but you will be eventually.”

“You need your scent on me?”

He ducked his chin once. “Clever girl.”

“Dominant.”

Another remorseless nod.

“Possessive.”

His crooked smile turned feral. Another nod.

“I’m going to disappoint you. I’m going to do whatever I want.”

He showed a flash of teeth and reached forward in a blur, gripped her hips and dragged her between his legs. Standing, she was nearly eye-level to him when he was sitting down. Eyes lifting to hers, he leaned forward and ran his fingertips up the outsides of her calves, up, up to the sides of her knees, then to her thighs, lifting the hem of the shirt as he went.

A trill of anticipation zinged through her as he pushed the soft material up the sides of her hips to expose her.

She bit back a smile as his smile slipped at the realization that she wore no panties at all.

“I told you,” she uttered low. “I’ll do what I want.”

“Fffffuck,” he groaned, digging his fingers into her hips as she lifted her knee and straddled his lap. He leaned back into the chair smoothly, taking her with him, and ground his hips upward as she slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

It felt so right. So comfortable, sharing a moment like this and touching him how she wanted to.

He slid his strong hand to the back of her neck, angled his face the other direction and pushed his tongue past her lips, tasted her. A groan of pleasure escaped her, and she eased back just enough to pull his shirt over her head.

He’d seen her naked before. He’d seen her Changed, and witnessed the aftermath when she’d slipped back into her human skin, but he’d been a gentleman and turned away from her every time. She’d noticed that months ago. Now? Now he drank her in and his hands slipped right to her breasts, massaged her gently. Smooth as you like, he leaned down and drew one of her nipples into his mouth, his big hand gripping it. Cadence threw her head back and gripped his hair in the back as she got lost in the sensation of his tongue against the nub of her breast, as she felt the tickle of his beard against her tingling skin as his jaw worked.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled as he moved to the other and paid equal attention there. He’d begun moving—grinding, pulling her closer—and she could hear a soft growl in his throat that sounded so damn sexy to her. His animal was calling to hers, and a soft purr rattled her throat again. Their animals were talking. Their bodies were communicating. Her heart was open, her mind was clear, and her body was craving his like she’d never craved anything before.

He released her breast and straightened his spine, pulled her against him and smashed her tits against the strong planes of his chest, ground against her again.

The fabric of his sweats did nothing to disguise the stony girth of his erection. God, he was big.

Kru gripped one of her wrists and pulled it to his mouth, sucked hard, then kissed gently. He lifted hooded eyes to hers and watched her reaction as he pressed his teeth there against her tripping pulse. “Do what you want,” he said against her skin, repeating her words.

Cadence hooked her fingers in the elastic waistband of his sweats, and he lifted up as she slid them down to his thighs. Sexy man wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and his huge dick slid out of them and rested on his flexed six-pack. He was the one who was perfect. “You’ll let me ride you?” she whispered.

He bit his bottom lip and rolled his head back, exposing his taut, muscular throat. Risky to expose your neck to a shifter. She liked that he did that with her.

She leaned forward, pressed her teeth against his neck, and bit hard enough to make him feel it—but not hard enough to break the skin. Oh, she knew about claiming marks.

He slipped his hand gently around her throat and pushed her back by inches, moving with her. His lips settled near her sensitive earlobe, and he rumbled, “I’ve never let anyone do that.”

She didn’t know why, but his words made her feel powerful. Big, dominant, half-crazed, lethal saber-toothed monster, and he was allowing her to press her teeth against the most vulnerable part of him. “Scared?” she whispered.

“Of anything outside of this room? No.”

“Are you scared of me?” she asked. The answer mattered.

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