Marie Harte - Outfoxed

Giving her what she needed had never been more enjoyable. Without asking, he took her nipple in his mouth, clothes and all, and bit down while at the same time he rubbed the heel of his palm over her clit.

She bucked and cried out his name, clamping down on his fingers as warm cream covered his hand. He was on the verge of coming. But something about it seemed wrong. He couldn’t take joy from this… Joy.

Fuck.

He watched her finish, totally, helplessly in love with the woman. His future mate, the cat he’d just brought to orgasm, the same one he’d lied to in order to get here. Oh man.

Hurting and knowing he deserved it, he held tight to his desire and refused to let himself come while he withdrew his hands from her.

“Grady. Oh my God. That was incredible.” She pressed soft kisses over his face. “But you’re still hard. Let me help you.”

“This was for you, Gabby. I’m okay. Really,” he rasped, trying like hell not to look as desperate as he felt.

“No, you’re not. But you will be.” Her eyes were kind, and he felt like the worst type of heel. Until she leaned back and unsnapped his jeans. “I can see your cat, Grady. He’s so hot. So hungry.”

He groaned. He could almost feel her touching him. Christ, he’d come in two seconds. How would that impress her?

The buttons undone, his fly parted, she pushed her hand beneath his jeans and underwear and gripped him.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Gabby, I’m gonna come so hard. Take your hand away, baby. It’s okay. This was for you.”

She refused to listen to him as she pumped his thick cock. He watched her watching him teeter on the verge of climax. “Do it, Grady. Come for me.”

For her. Anything she wanted, he’d do. And then she rubbed the underside of his cockhead and licked her lips, and he lost his mind.

“Oh yeah. Gabby, baby. Fuck. ” He came hard, thick jets of come shooting over his belly and her hand. His orgasm lasted for what felt like forever, the release more than welcome, a testament to the power she held over him. She milked him dry and then let him go. But he didn’t want her to wipe him off.

He grabbed her hand and shoved it under her shirt. “Wipe it into your skin,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly, his cat more than ready to come out and claim the hell out of her. “I want to smell me all over you.”

Her eyes wide, she let him wipe his semen over her belly. And then he remembered where his fingers had been. He held his hand up and opened his mouth. He sucked his fingers clean, memorizing her taste.

When he finished, he wiped his hand on his belly, mixing faint remnants of her scent and his come into his own skin. “Thank you, Gabby.” I love you, Gabby.

She nodded and rose on wobbly legs. She didn’t speak but cupped his chin with her hand. The tender moment lengthened between them. Then she left and closed the door of her bedroom behind her.

Trying to gather his thoughts, he stared down at his still semi-hard cock and wondered if he’d made things between them better or worse. Better, because she knew how good sex could be between them, or worse, because she’d learned on a lie.

Tired and too sated to care, he staggered to the bathroom, hastily cleaned himself and found her couch once more. He closed his eyes and dreamed about Gabby. But this time he knew her by scent and taste, and he carried her with him into tomorrow.

The next morning, the clock continued to tick. Gabby had been dithering by her bedroom door for an hour, wondering if Grady was still out there on the couch. She drew in a deep breath and let it out, knowing she had only herself to blame for the awkward situation in which she now found herself. That’s what you get when you take advantage of a man who’s just been dumped by the woman he loves, idiot.

Though he’d been with her every step of the way, she remembered how vulnerable she’d been when she’d gone through the same thing. Like she didn’t matter, wasn’t good enough. She’d have jumped at the chance for a handsome man to make her feel better, then lamented it the very next day. No, she didn’t fault him for being with her. If anything, she wanted to slap herself for not being a better friend, someone for him to lean on, not screw into oblivion.

She shivered, remembering how hard he’d been, how great those magical fingers and mouth of his had felt on her skin. How the hell could Joy choose Dean over Grady?

Knowing she couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable, she pushed open the door and braced herself, praying she could make it through the morning without going up in flames in embarrassment, or worse, dealing with an aggravated catamount with huge claws. Grady made one impressive, deadly feline.

But instead of the moody/angry/sad man she expected to find on the couch, she saw her pillows neatly stacked and a blanket folded over the arm of the sofa. On the kitchen table, the vase she kept under the sink was filled with wildflowers that made the room smell fresh and sweet. By the vase lay a piece of paper covered with Grady’s masculine scrawl.

Dear Gabby.

I wanted to talk to you in person, but I have the early shift at work today and didn’t want to wake you. I can’t thank you enough for last night. You’re such a generous, caring, beautiful woman. I’m sorry you had to be involved with my mess with Dean. But please don’t regret what happened last night. I don’t. I would have made you something to eat for breakfast, but I can’t cook. I hunt. And I didn’t think a deer carcass on your counter would go with the neat theme you have going on in this place. So accept the flowers and my sincere friendship. And don’t be upset about last night. Really. Because I want to do it again. Just you and me, and for no other reason than we both want to.

Grady

Warmth unfurled, her heart full at the fact Grady not only wasn’t going to be weird about things, but that he wanted to explore more with her. She reread the note several times, lingering over one specific detail. He’d mentioned his problems with Dean and not Joy. She wanted to take that as a good sign. Had Dean been wrong? Perhaps Grady liked Joy a lot, but the thought of permanence had scared him. Gabby had never sensed Grady to be less than an honorable man, and to just jump into bed with her after catching the love of his life with his brother? It didn’t make sense, considering he hadn’t shown any regret about it in his note. Or had she been wrong about him? Was he just another jerk out to get laid and used his breakup with Joy as an excuse? She didn’t want to believe it. Not of Grady.

In any case, not having to face him took a load off her mind, and she readied for work humming under her breath, the scent of wildflowers and the faint reminder of Grady lingering in the air.

Grady Chastell, hunk, incredible lover and wordsmith. Who knew he had it in him?

Grady shoved Dean against the wall again. “Fuckhead. I don’t know whether to thank you or fucking kill you.” He didn’t spare Joy a glance as she watched him pound on his brother. The woman sat on his couch in his living room, dressed in one of his T-shirts, her legs bare, her spiky hair framing a sultry face and lively eyes. But from the look of things, she’d slept alone last night. He didn’t scent Dean on her at all. One problem solved, at least.

“Let go. You’re strangling me.” Dean tried to pry Grady’s fingers from around his throat. “Can’t…breathe…”

“Oh geez. Grady, ease up, will you?” Joy sighed. “As entertaining as this is, I have enough problems with crazy cats down South. Another dead body is going to put me in the proverbial doghouse with Miles, big time. I’m only allotted one kill a year according to big brother.”