Marie Harte - By the Tail

He sucked harder, and she knew he liked the bite of pain. Kinky cat.

“More,” she moaned, writhing beneath him. “Inside me.”

He stopped and raised his head, his lips shiny with her desire. His eyes super bright in the dimly lit room. “You sure?”

She narrowed her eyes, her cat hissing. “You started this. You finish it.”

Instead of arguing at her sudden demand, he complied with astonishing speed. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” In seconds he unbuttoned his jeans and took himself out. She caught a brief glimpse of a huge cock before she felt him prodding her folds.

With one push, he surged deeply, huge and hot and thick inside her.

He leaned over her, his gaze intense. “You’re perfect,” he rasped. Then he started moving, fucking her with long strokes. Sure and steady, he refused to be rushed, even when she pushed and pulled and demanded he hurry.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice so low she barely made sense of the feline growls pouring from his throat. He hammered into her, thrusting with enough force to show her he was in charge.

“Oh God. Oh God. Yes, Quince. Yes .” She would have screamed if he hadn’t swallowed her cry.

She came hard around him, sucking him deeper, and felt a snap of psychic connection between them when his cat released a layer of scent and energy. It was the beginning of the mating mark, but awash in so much pleasure, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She could die happily without regret.

He jerked and swore, and her cat returned the marker, accepting and even welcoming the wealth of seed bathing her womb.

“Fuck, yeah. Joy…” he groaned and continued to spend.

She stroked his back, soothing the shudders of his orgasmic throes. As what he’d done permeated, she searched for the anger she knew he deserved. But basking in such bliss, she couldn’t do more than yawn and grip his shirt—he hadn’t even undressed—while he finished.

He blinked down at her, his face a study in carnal ecstasy. “Damn. You’re gonna make me pay for this. I know it. But Jesus. It’ll be worth it.”

She chuckled, surprised at how good she felt. Until he withdrew and his seed trickled out of her. Joy closed her eyes and swore. He’d come inside her. Her cat purred. Stupid cat. To which the feline flicked her tail and replied, Stupid human.

He pressed something between her legs. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Quince sounded way too satisfied. But how much blame could she put at his door when she’d begged him to fuck her?

She groaned again. “I’m so stupid.”

“Nah. Just lucky.” He chuckled.

She opened her eyes and glared up at him, prepared to take his head off at the first sign of his familiar smirk. Instead, she gazed up at a gentle smile filled with…affection?

Used to the smug and domineering feline accustomed to being obeyed, Joy didn’t know what to make of this man.

He caressed her cheek with a callused finger. “Don’t think so hard. You can yell at me all the way back to Florida. I promise. I’ll sit there and take it on the plane ride home.” He paused, his gaze searching. “Just give me a chance. That’s all I ask.”

Not all, if he planned on trying to impregnate her at every opportunity. But for once, Quince wasn’t being an ass about things. He’d asked instead of commanded. Her cat liked the strong panther who’d tricked her, then taken her so forcefully. But the woman wanted compassion and care. To be wanted for herself, not because of a connection to her rich and beautiful family.

“I—”

“Just hear me out about Michael. Lex. Ronnie. I’ll tell you all of it. But please, don’t shut me out anymore. And come home ,” he said again. “I have to go back. Lex’s followers aren’t all gone. I have to make things right for the pride. But I can’t do it if I’m worrying about you. And don’t tell me not to worry. I can’t help it, not when it comes to you.”

His sincerity was palpable, his stare so deep and true she could only sigh as she watched him. “Okay,” she murmured, inwardly making no promises.

His blinding grin almost undid her. Man, he was hot.

“But,” she emphasized and sat up, pleased when his gaze slipped to her breasts and darkened, “don’t think this solves anything. We aren’t mated.”

“Yet,” he said under his breath.

She glared. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. I’ll just let you get dressed.” He stepped back, but before he moved out of reach, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him close.

“Uh uh. My sister paid for a massage. I want the full heel, back and neck rub, buster. But no more sex,” she warned when he grinned. Not until I can shield myself from wanting more of you again.

Now looking pathetically dejected, he cracked his knuckles and motioned for her to lie back down. “I’m so unappreciated.”

She snorted as she turned over to her belly and scooted up the table. “That’s my line. Now stop staring at my ass and rub, Mannie .”

His good mood seemed to have vanished as he snarled, “If your precious Mannie had touched one inch of you, he’d be a mangled heap. I’d have ended him. Slowly.” Yet his hands were gentle as he massaged her already boneless body.

She smiled. Perhaps she could work with this. Quince wanted her, of that she had no doubt. And the sex had been explosive. She’d get some birth control going, enjoy the incredible sex and see just what Quince had rattling in his closet. Then maybe, just maybe, she’d see where this relationship—if she could call it that—might go.

Two hours later, while Quince arranged their flight home, she sat with her sisters in the cabin Stacey and Dean shared while Dean was building a large house for his picky mate. Joy loved her sisters, but Stacey was a pain at the best of times. Younger by two years, she acted like she ruled the roost. Normally Joy let her, because it took too much energy to argue with Miles and Stacey.

But tonight Stacey was on her last nerve. Her prissy sister sniffed and raised a perfectly arched brow. “You hooked up with Quince, baby killer and cat of loose morals?”

“Baby killer?” Amy glanced from Stacey to Melissa.

Melissa shrugged. Though fraternal twins, Joy’s older sisters looked enough alike to be identical to most people. Both blond with green eyes, her sisters had patience and an easy temperament, a total one-eighty from the rest of them, and Joy in particular. Labeled difficult at an early age, Joy took a perverse amount of pleasure in being hard to handle. Anything to stand out from her amazing siblings.

“Stacey’s just being dramatic again,” Melissa suggested. “I like Quince. I never believed the stories that he and Lex were in it together to kill Michael. He was always more than nice to me.”

That had never rung true to Joy either. Quince had revered Michael. The man had practically raised Quince when his mother and sister took off for parts unknown. Personally, Joy had always liked Esmeralda Castille. The older woman liked to have fun, and she never let a male rule her. But she found a lot of trouble, and her daughter followed her example. When they’d left the pride after Quince’s sixteenth birthday, every one of the pride males had seemed to breathe easier. Miles and Quince included.

“I’m not sure what happened.” No longer interested in speculation or Miles’s say-so, she wanted to know the truth. She’d come to understand that her older brother had a blind spot when it came to Quince. He refused to believe anything good about his ex-best friend. Joy didn’t understand why, especially after the way Quince kept treating her like spun gold.

“You still smell like him.” Stacey grimaced and stared at her manicured nails.