A Lost Kitten (15 page)

Jasira framed his face with her hands. John tilted his head up. An audible sigh escaped him as Jasira plunged her tongue deep into his mouth. Her hands lowered to his shirt. She started to unbutton it. Her hands slipped beneath the material, parting it. She smoothed her palms over every muscle. John groaned. He felt a tug on his pants. His eyes lit up. The mere thought of Jasira touching him pushed him closer to his limits.

John saw the buttons slip through their holes, one at a time. The heat in him reached scorching new levels with the simple act. He watched the material part. He sprung forward. He was free but not for long. Jasira’s fingers wrapped themselves around him. A small cry escaped him. His features grew tight. John knew he should stop her, but her touch brought him pleasures not of this realm.

Jasira’s hand started moving. John cried louder, gripping the sides of the chair. He reveled in those fingers traveling the length of him. All thoughts of stopping Jasira vanished. The ghosts that roamed the streets and castle vanished. John’s need to return to the war vanished. His thoughts, his feelings, his senses were all on Jasira. John’s muscles coiled for a different reason.

He closed his glowing eyes. It helped him focus better on his obsession. Jasira held and massaged him with one hand while her other hand carried him closer to that blissful summit. Time stood still. It was how it should be between a man and his mate.

John released the chair, then clung to it tighter. For a moment, he forgot. He fought the pain it caused him by concentrating on Jasira’s hands. His breathing increased, but Jasira’s hand slowed. He did not want her to go slow. He liked her current speed—medium and steady.

He looked at the spot in front of his knees. “What’s wrong?”

He felt Jasira touch his knees. He immediately understood. John opened his legs and closed his eyes, expecting her hand to start moving. At feeling her tongue on his tip, John released a cry. His hips jolted away from her. Wide-eyed and breathing hard, he gaped at the space between his legs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You took me off guard. Don’t stop. Please.” He sat back in his chair. “Go on.” He gripped the seat and prayed that she did.

John’s heart furiously pounded in his chest. The red-hot bolt of desire that sliced through him bordered on pain. How could a simple touch affect him that much? If he were inexperienced, he would have thought Jasira had tried to cut him with a burning blade. Still, the years John had under his belt did not prepare him for Jasira. He waited anxiously for her decision. His head fell backward on a sigh at the initial stroke of her tongue.

John peeked from beneath his lashes to where he sensed Jasira was. He wanted to see her between his legs, close to his throbbing member. He saw nothing but his manhood pointing upward. His heart twisted. Jasira cupped his weight and gently massaged him. John gripped the chair tighter and purred. The facts could not be ignored. He did not want Dena or any other woman. He wanted Jasira. John closed his eyes and purred louder.

Sweat developed on his forehead. He spotted it forming on his chest and dripping down to his navel. He thought his body had lost the ability to sweat.

“Jasira. Jasira, wait…wait one second.”

Jasira paused.

“Don’t move,” he said, before she could leave her position between his thighs.

John removed his shirt and flung it to the floor on his left. He concentrated and grabbed the waistline of his pants in one hand. He tugged hard. They went through his body. He flung them across the table on his right. He sat back, hoping Jasira liked what she saw, hoping she would scoot closer.

“That’s better, don’t you think?”

Jasira smiled victoriously. She knew she had found John’s weakness—his sexual side. It pleased her that he wanted her touch. The magnificent sight of his nakedness made her itch to know every inch of him. Her hands swiftly traveled over John’s bare calves and thighs. She intentionally scraped her fingernails along the sensitive, inner flesh of his thighs. Seeing goose bumps develop on his skin made her feel mischievous.

She waved a hand across her body, dissolving her gown. She pressed her body to him and heard John’s breath leave him. She watched John’s features relay awe and ecstasy as she rubbed her breasts on his arousal. He opened wider, wanting more, needing more from her. Jasira eagerly rose from her kneeling position. She purposely rubbed the tips of her breasts along John’s thighs, stomach, and chest.

John could not breathe. He felt Jasira’s breasts as they left a scorching trail in their wake. He melted further. Ten claws appeared almost instantly. They dug into the smooth wood of his seat. John arched his back. The need to imprint Jasira’s form on his was elemental.

Jasira seemed to understand, for he detected a pair of slim arms encircling his torso. She pressed against him. John growled. He sought her mouth. Jasira answered. His soul leapt forward, wanting to escape. John frowned.
What’s going on?

Jasira broke their kiss. John was not ready to let her go. His lips sought hers. “No. Don’t go.” He felt her slipping back down his body. “Jasira…” He licked his lips. “Come back.” His tool slipped into a hot cavern. There was no mistaking what it was. John forgave her. “Oh God, yes!”

He tilted his hips toward her. He tightly gripped the chair. Jasira’s mouth gently pulled while her tongue wrapped around his erection. John’s growls could be heard outside. He sensed his life force being sucked through his manhood and into Jasira with each upward movement she made.

His fierce need flared and skyrocketed. His manhood swelled in Jasira’s sultry mouth. “Don’t stop!”

John’s lips pulled over his teeth as he pushed into her, unable to stay still any longer. His grip grew numb. His sharp claws dug deeper into the smooth wood. He pictured Jasira’s tongue swirling around his tip while her head moved up and down. John’s glowing eyes blinded even him.

“Jasira!” He growled. “You’re driving me insane!” He closed his eyes. “You’re too good!” He thrust his hips in time with her movements. “Take it!”

Jasira’s speed increased. John eagerly followed suit. His face tilted upward. He wanted it to last, but the searing build up of energy demanded release. His eyes burst open. His core exploded and flames rushed through his body. John roared.

The energy blast sent Jasira on her back. She stared up at the ceiling. This could not be normal. No one had spoken to her about energy blasts while mating. Could it be because he was an alien? Was this normal for his race?

Jasira sat up, smoothing back her hair. If only she could ask him. She gasped at seeing John on the floor. The chair had tilted over backward. Jasira hurried to his side. She patted his cheeks and called his name. Like before, John would not wake up.

Since she could not wake him, she would make him comfortable. She waved her hand. The chair remained underneath John. She waved again. The chair stayed. Jasira frowned. She stood and tried with both hands. It did not work. She looked at her hands. What was wrong? One more time. Nothing. The blast must have short-circuited her connection to the planet. Like John, she needed time to recoup.

She sadly looked upon her dear kindred soul. He was so handsome. Her heart broke. She wished she could make him comfortable. Alas, she could not remove the chair from underneath his bulk. Could she at least move his shirt? It took several tries, but Jasira eventually managed to fling it over his hips.

She dropped to her knees in exhaustion. The blast
had
depleted her of energy. She made herself comfortable next to John. She was not about to leave him by himself on the floor. She placed her head on his chest, draped her arm around his waist, and closed her eyes.

.

Chapter 8

The sunlight filtered in through the window, illuminating the room. John began to stir. He moaned in protest of the light. His lids lifted partway. He grimaced, using his right hand to shield his eyes. He did not want to wake up yet. It was too early. As a feline, he did not like leaving his bed before ten, unless he was going on duty.

He inhaled deeply and glanced around, frowning. How did he end up on the floor? He felt a warm body curved around his torso. John glanced down his left side. There was nothing there—only his shirt barely covering his manhood. The chair was beneath him.

John used his senses. A life force was cuddled up alongside him. He remembered. Jasira. She managed to make him feel as wonderful as the last time. No. It was better than the last time. He stared up at the ceiling.

John did not know how to feel. He was elated that Jasira wanted to be with him. He was saddened that he could not hold her in his arms and reciprocate her affection. He was angry with himself for not having the strength to say it was over. And he was scared that their mating would only get better if he allowed it to progress. What was he going to do?

If Jasira was alive, John knew exactly what to do. He would ask Jasira to return to the empire with him. Unfortunately, she was a ghost. He could not return with a spirit as a girlfriend. He would have to say good-bye. John closed his eyes on the pain that assaulted him. It was crazy to feel this way. He knew it, but he could not contain it.

John stared down his left side. Jasira used his senses against him. Now he could not get her out. It was illogical. How could a spirit have that sort of control over him? A soulmate, yes. That was logical and expected. But a ghost? Never. It was not meant to be. Therefore, they were not meant to be. There was no other outcome for them. He would have to say good-bye and return to reality.

A small hand caressed his right cheek. The gesture made John feel cared for, like he was already home with a special woman at his side.

He smiled for Jasira’s sake, even though he was weeping inside. “Good morning.”

Jasira shifted. She placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

John swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I don’t know what happened. I don’t normally fall asleep after…” He could not call it making love. She was a ghost. “Well, after what happened.”

Jasira placed a small peck on his lips. John felt her life force moving away. He rolled off the chair while a few feet in front of him several logs flew into the hearth. A box lifted from a drawer. A slender stick was taken out and lit. The small flame floated to the fireplace, setting the logs on fire. Next, the kettle settled above the growing flames.

As John lifted the chair, his fingers skimmed the bottom of the seat. He raised the chair and examined underneath. He found eight deep grooves cut into the chair. His heart jumped in his chest. He placed his fingers over one set. It was a match. His heart began to pound. He remembered the scorching energy that exploded from his core when he climaxed. John stared at the grooves. It could not be. He extended his claws. His nails followed the path of each line. They matched perfectly.

How was that possible? That was supposed to happen only once—and between soulmates. He felt that amazing explosion twice with a dead woman. John’s breath snagged. He rejected the possibility. He was too excited yesterday and had accidently clawed Jasira’s chair, that was all. He placed the chair down, swallowed, and focused on calming his racing heart.

John picked up his pants and put them on. “Jasira, I’m sorry. It looks like I got too exited yesterday and accidently clawed into your chair. There are some claw marks underneath. I’ll find someone here who can repair it, if not, replace it. I’m really sorry.”

Jasira kissed him. John quickly closed his eyes and responded. He was lost. He had no hope while near her. Jasira’s kiss had the power to transport him to another realm. Her realm.

The teakettle whistled and Jasira broke away. John’s mouth followed her. He kept himself from taking a step in her direction. It had to end. Trying to take control of his senses, John reached for his shirt on the floor. He tucked the ends into his pants without buttoning it.

He went to the rocker and took his second shirt. While he layered on the clothes, he glanced out the window. He checked the time. It was six in the morning. He grew irritated. He hated getting up this early.

“I have to get back to the castle.” He put on his last shirt. “I’ve been here a month. I think that’s plenty of time for Bogdan to avoid me. I need to find out where he lives. He promised to take me home. I’m going to make sure he keeps his promise.”

John saw Jasira pouring the kettle’s dark contents into a mug. He grimaced at seeing the mug floating in his direction.

He stepped backward. “No, Jasira, I had enough of that horrible drink last night.”

The mug kept moving forward.

“No more, Jasira.”

It reached his nose.

John bumped into the wall. He had no escape. “Jasira, it’s horrible! Don’t make me drink it.”

Jasira tenderly caressed his right cheek. She felt his forehead, then rubbed his chest. Her sweet hand returned to his cheek. John knew what she was saying. She was insisting it was for his benefit. She was concerned for his health. How could he say no to her when all Jasira was doing was caring for him?

“Fine,” he grumbled. He took the mug. John swallowed the tea as fast as he could. “Yuck!” He shivered and gagged. “That is definitely the worst medicine I have ever had to ta—”

Jasira silenced him by thrusting her tongue into his mouth. She swiftly ignited those all-consuming flames in John. His arms rose from his sides, wanting to embrace her. They hit his stomach, surprising him, breaking their kiss.

John glanced at his arms. He realized what he had done. “I’m sorry. I…I forgot.”

Reality struck hard. John avoided looking in Jasira’s direction. He spotted his boots. He grabbed them, sat in the rocker, and jammed them on. Snatching his jacket from underneath his rump, he unlocked the door and flung it open.

“I have to go,” he said, rushing out of the house.

John ran back to the castle, away from Jasira, away from his need for her. The marks he had left behind did not stay behind. They were with him. Confusing him. Worrying him. Scaring him.

John heard someone calling his name. He slowed his pace and looked around. Bogdan waved at him. John waited for him. He seemed winded. He must have run all the way from his ship.