Nalini Singh - Night Shift

It made him groan.

Kirby arched up, sliding her folds over his erect cock.

“Bad lynx.” Chest heaving, he snapped his teeth at her.

She snapped back, then arched her neck in invitation. Leaning down, he suckled at the flutter of her pulse. Laving his tongue over the red mark with unhidden possessiveness, he closed one hand over her breast, teased her nipple. “You are so pretty everywhere.”

A shy-sweet smile, sparkling pleasure-hazed eyes, her tongue flirting with his until he gripped her jaw to hold her in place for an open-mouthed kiss, wet and hot and a prelude to sex. Legs still locked around him, she opened for him, demanded more, the damp musk of her so intoxicating his claws sliced out to tear the sheets.

“Shit.” Retracting them, he pressed his forehead to hers. “Sorry, baby. I’m having trouble holding it togeth—”

Pelvis arching against him, she sucked at his throat as he’d done at hers—possessive and determined—and that was it. All he wanted, needed , was Kirby. She was liquid heat and hot honey on his fingers when he touched her between her thighs.

“Bastien!”

If he’d had any hope of taking this slow, he lost it on the ripples of her pleasure. Pushing one sweetly curved thigh wider, he waited only until her body had stopped clenching in orgasm before beginning to slide in. She moaned, her claws digging just enough into his shoulders that it felt amazing.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he grit out, because not for anything would he hurt his Kirby.

Kisses on his throat, a purr in the back of hers. “It feels sooooo good.”

Shuddering, he withdrew after that first shallow penetration and slid back in, reining in his instinct to thrust; she was so tautly stretched around him, so small. But she was also lusciously aroused, her unhidden desire threatening to erase the last, faint glimmers of his control.

It was excruciating.

It was beautiful.

Then at last, he was buried to the hilt and they were kissing.

Hand tightening on her thigh, the taste of her in his every sense, he withdrew, pushed back in slowly.

Once. Twice. “Fuck!”

Spine locking, he came in a violent rush, his face buried in the curve of his mate’s neck. His utter lack of control would’ve been embarrassing . . . except that he felt her gasp as she came again, her body clamping down possessively on his cock.

Male pride restored, Bastien collapsed on her. Her fingers petted his hair, her arms and legs imprisoned his very happy body, her words a husky whisper. “Can we do that again? I really, really, really liked it.”

Bastien grinned. “Hell, yeah.”

Kirby glared at Bastien as he led her out in front of a lovely home set deep in the forest the next day. “Is this your parents’ house?”

“Yep.”

She dug her heels in. “I’m about to meet your mom and dad and you couldn’t have warned me?” Her old jeans and faded T-shirt would hardly make the best first impression, not to mention the leaves she no doubt had in her hair from playfully wrestling with her mate not long ago. “We’re leaving right now so I can change.”

Bastien tugged her forward instead, insouciant. “Don’t worry, little cat. They’re going to see what I see.”

Kirby wasn’t so certain, but the door was already opening to reveal a small woman with hair of rich dark gold. “Bastien? Why are you lurking out—” A dazzling smile broke out on her face. “Well,” she said, walking over to take Kirby into her arms, “there you are.”

The maternal warmth of the touch, the words, erased any nerves Kirby might have had. And when Lia Smith said, “I’m so happy to welcome another daughter to this family,” she knew she was going to adore Bastien’s mother just as much as she loved Lia’s son.

“Hey, Frenchie!” Sage poked his head out the door, the sun hitting the brown of his hair to reveal hidden strands of red. “Did you bring any baguettes?”

“Why don’t you go season something, Herb?”

Kirby’s shoulders shook as Lia Smith glared at each man in turn. “I gave you both beautiful names. Use them.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Kirby didn’t stop smiling the entire time she was in the Smith house, was the same when she spoke to her grandparents on the comm later that night. “Our future babies are going to be utterly spoiled,” she said to her mate afterward, delighted at the idea.

“In case you missed it,” Bastien muttered, “they’re also going to be demons.”

Kirby laughed, pleased with the idea of her own little red-headed demons. “If Mercy and Riley are having pupcubs,” she mused, “what will we have?”

“Lynxpards?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Hmm.” A long pause before Bastien began to laugh so hard he almost fell off the bed. “We’ll have little birbys, that’s what we’ll have.”

She slapped his chest. “Don’t you dare say that in front of your brothers or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Of course he let it slip and of course the future birbys became part of the family lexicon. Sitting around the table being teased about it for the umpteenth time two months later, her visiting grandparents laughing as hard as the Smiths, Kirby knew she’d want it no other way. “I think we should visit Vera tomorrow and take her a great big cake.”

Bastien smiled. “Yeah. I think we should. She gave us the best gift, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

I looked at myself in the mirror. I wore tiny black panties and a tomato red satin garter belt with black lace-up inserts. The price sticker had described the color as scarlet, but really it was tomato red. The garter belt held up black fishnet stockings. A matching bra did its best to push up my small boobs. It didn’t have much to work with. I wasn’t just skinny. When my body was made, someone had read the instructions wrong. I had tiny boobs, narrow hips, and thin chopstick legs with knobby knees.

I looked ridiculous.

The description of the bra had promised “enticing curves” and encouraged me to “flirt with your most stunning cleavage.” I leaned on the bathroom vanity and blew the air out. This sucked so much.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. “You’re a weretiger. Confident. Aggressive. Roar.”

Still ridiculous.

It could be worse, I told myself. I could’ve gone for the chain mail bikini. The lingerie shop had one of those, too.

The sales clerk had recommended a floaty pink see-through thing with bows. Buying that was out of the question. I was already short and skinny. The see-through thing would swallow me. Besides, that outfit was a baby-doll outfit. Looking cute and sweet was the last thing I wanted to do, because tonight Jim Shrapshire and I had a date.

Jim Shrapshire ran Clan Cat, one of the seven clans in Atlanta’s Shapeshifter Pack. A werejaguar, he normally served as the Pack’s Chief of Security. Jim wasn’t just a badass. He was a badass who wrote a book for badasses on how to be a badder badass. Which is why, when Curran, the Beastlord and the ruler of the Pack, had to go on an expedition to the Mediterranean, he left Jim in charge of fifteen hundred shapeshifters. Curran had been gone for about a month and Jim was keeping the Pack together with iron claws. He was the smartest man I ever met. He was scary, funny, had muscles in places I had no idea muscles existed, and for some weird reason he liked me.

At least I thought he liked me. Things were complicated. As the alpha of Clan Cat, he was in charge of me and he’d been really careful not to take advantage of it. We’d been trying to date, except that Jim was busy and I was busy, too, so we barely managed a date every two to three weeks. When we did connect, we talked about everything under the sun and we made out. He let me set the pace. I decided how far we went and the first few times we got together, we didn’t go very far.