By the Tail (3 page)

Quince cleared his throat and reminded himself not to get naked and mount her yet. He knew they shared chemistry, but she needed to want all of him. Or so he kept telling himself as he stared down at her slender neck and smooth, rounded shoulders.

“Mannie?” she mumbled.

“This will feel good. Just lie there and relax.” He slathered almond-scented oil over his hands and placed them on her back. His dick spiked, so in tune with the rest of him needing to caress her. Touch her. Keep her.

She froze for a moment but soon relaxed under his soothing touch. From her shoulders down to her lower back, he butterfly-stroked the tension out of her. Each time his fingers drew closer to the curve of her ass, and each time he fought the urge to deepen the intimacy and release his scent. His cat growled and paced inside him, needing to scent mark his mate.

Not yet
, he warned it, understanding too well the cat’s yowl of denial.
Soon. Let’s play with her first.
The cat sniffed with grudging approval, but when Quince deepened his touch, kneading her skin, the cat purred in his breast before he could shush it quiet.

“Oh, that feels good,” Joy whispered on a breathy sigh.

Too good.
Quince was hard enough to split wood. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, and he wiped it away with his shoulder. Then he moved to her waist. “I’m going to adjust the sheet so I can get to your hamstrings and calves.”

“Sure,” he heard her murmur.

He slid the soft sheet over her back, keeping it barely covering her ass.

Then he moved to the base of the table, prodded her ankles wider and started rubbing her feet, curling his lips at her barely audible purr. His cat heard it and purred along with her.

Joy’s muscles locked. She’d heard him. He didn’t care.

“Easy. Let yourself go,” he rasped, imaging how beautiful she’d be the first time she came in his arms.

“But…”

He stroked her heels, her ankles and higher up her calves to the backs of her knees. Then he caressed the insides of her thighs, moving higher but not high enough to be called on it.

Fuck if he could think past the need to take her.

“That feels…that feels…” She hitched her breath.

“Good?” he ended for her, having a hard time breathing.

“Uh, yeah,” she squeaked.

He ran his thumbs back up the insides of her thighs again, this time skating perilously close to her pussy. He inhaled and scented raw, powerful lust.
Oh God.

She squirmed, and his thumb brushed her folds, coated with her arousal.

“Mannie, I don’t think…”

“No, don’t think,” Quince growled, making no effort to disguise his voice any longer.

“I knew it!” But she didn’t flinch or try to move off the table. Instead she shivered under him, as caught in the spell as Quince.

He knew better than to give her time to think things through. He yanked the sheet off her back and continued to massage her, this time running his fingers against the slick flesh between her legs before sliding his hands down her thighs. He massaged on an upward sweep again, higher and higher, until unable to stop himself, he slid his finger
inside
her.

She clamped down on the digit, moaning and surrounding him with heat, and he swore. “Fuck. Let me…” He didn’t want to hear her reject him again, so he took charge. Quince removed his hand, flipped her onto her back and then pulled her ass to the edge of the table, where she dangled her legs on either side of him. The perfect position for him to spread her thighs wider and shove his face into the sweetest pussy he’d ever had.

Joy couldn’t breathe as Quince sucked her taut flesh with his devious, scarily talented mouth.

“
Quince.
” She clenched his soft hair, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. She arched into him, addicted to the pleasure. He was
incredible
, so strong, holding her down with one hand to her belly while he licked her to an incredibly quick orgasm.

She shuddered and sighed his name as she came, falling fast into oblivion. It had been so long, and Quince felt so
right
. But he didn’t stop. And the rush of bliss continued, smoothing out before easing into another climb toward ecstasy. Her cat purred with pleasure even as she wanted more.

At first, Joy hadn’t known what to make of Mannie’s massage. What should have been impersonal had turned her on the moment he’d touched her. Much different from what Stacey had told her to expect with the openly gay man. Nothing soft or mildly relaxing about this massage. Joy had planned to protest, but then she’d lost herself in the heavenly touch. To her dismay, she’d superimposed Quince’s face over Mannie’s imagined one, her subconscious making it okay to indulge.

So of course, it
had
to be the canny cat licking her to another climax.

“Yeah, so good,” he whispered against her. “Need you, baby. So fucking sweet.”

His rough voice and firm yet gentle touch pushed her to the edge of reason. She felt empty, needy. Her cat yowled with pleasure, and with a heat she knew all too well. Oh hell. Not now. She wasn’t due to go into heat for at least two more weeks. But her feline side disagreed. The cat wanted Quince and no other. And she was tired of being denied.

Surrendering to the animal inside her, Joy dragged her hands from Quince’s hair to his powerful shoulders. She gripped him tight, digging in her fingernails.

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.

“Shut it, Stacey. You smell like that mongrel Dean all the time.” Joy sneered, though she thought of Dean as her own twin. He got into more trouble than she did, on a regular basis. “And I’d know. Remember? I banged him back in June.” Actually, she’d pretended to have an affair with Dean in order to trick Dean’s brother Grady into making a move on his current wife. A female who, at the time, didn’t seem to know Grady was alive. A convoluted scheme, but Grady now had a wife he couldn’t live without. Joy’s doing, naturally.

“Liar.” Stacey glared at her. “As if. Dean would never—”

“You used to call him a man-whore.” Joy started to have fun.

Amy grinned. “And Jethro. Gomer.”

“Boy-toy, flavor of the month,” Melissa continued.