“Vibrate,” Marsten whispered.
That made sense—that they’d have their phones set to vibrate. Nothing blows your cover faster than The Ride of the Valkyrie resounding through a supposedly off-limits hall.
When the three were gone, we headed back the other way, across the main hall and into the “biodiversity” wing, a.k.a. the stuffed animal gallery. On the other side was the ceramics exhibit. Halfway across the biodiversity room, we caught strains of a lively monologue coming from the ceramics gallery. The midnight behind-the-scenes tour.
Marsten frowned at the direction of the voices, as if debating joining them and taking refuge in numbers. That depended on how likely he thought Tristan was to avoid public confrontation. After a moment, he shook his head and prodded me toward the narrow opening between a pillar and the African savanna diorama.
When I stepped into the gap, he tugged me out, then backed in and crouched, sitting on a fan box. He motioned for me to turn around and back onto his lap. As I did, I knew why he’d picked the lower position—we’d be hidden from casual viewers by a nearby meerkat display.
As I shifted onto his lap, his arms went around me, holding me steady…or that’s the excuse I let him have. We settled in for what could be a long wait. As things went quiet, I struggled to hold back all the thoughts I didn’t want to think, all the regrets and self-recriminations I’d deal with later. My heart raced, filling the void by indulging in replays of the running, the fighting, those delicious spurts of chaos that only sent my heart tripping faster still.
As I luxuriated in the memories, other visions crept in: a vulture circling overhead, an ocean of long, dry grass whispering, a breeze bringing the heavenly scent of musk, my stomach growling, tail twitching in anticipation—
Marsten shifted, his fingers accidentally brushing my hardened nipples and I groaned, my breath coming faster.
He chuckled. “Not immune to me after all, I see.”
“Hmmm?”
He cupped his hand under my left breast, and pressed it there as my heart raced beneath his fingers. When those fingers climbed to my nipple again, I let out a soft moan.
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s not you.”
Another chuckle. “If you want to tell yourself that…”
I closed my eyes and saw the lioness crouch, hind quarters twitching, mouth watering in anticipation. I could feel her excitement, pulse racing, and my own raced to match it. I moaned again, as Marsten’s hand slid up to my shoulder.
He hesitated. “Either you have some strange erogenous zones, or you’re right. It’s not me, is it?”
I opened my eyes. “It’s—” I waved at the display. “I pick things up, from the past…chaos.”
Another brush against my hard nipples. “And this is what happens?”
“Mmm, yes.” My eyes closed again. “Strange, I know…”
“Actually, no, not to me, at least. Should I stop?”
“Mmm, no.”
A soft laugh. He unzipped my dress and tugged it off my shoulder, pulling the bra down with it. A wave of cool air rushed over my bare breast and I shivered, backing against him as his hand went to my breast, lips to my neck, tongue sliding over the sensitive spot behind my ear, raising more shivers. I shifted again and he put his free hand around my waist and repositioned me on his lap. I felt his erection hard against my rear, and pushed against it, thrusting softly. He let out a low growl and moved his lips to my ear.
“Tell me what you see,” he whispered.
When I hesitated, his free hand moved to my leg, pushing up my skirt, fingers tickling up the inside of my thigh. He traced the edges of my panties, then slid a finger under it. I parted my legs to let him in, but he only teased me with his finger.
“Tell me,” he said.
“It’s…a hunt.”
“Mmmm.” A growling chuckle. “Nothing like a good hunt. What do you see?”
I told him, the words coming hesitant at first, then flowing faster as his finger slid in, moving expertly as he thrust against me, egging me on when I slowed, my excitement feeding his. As the lioness sprang for the kill, I felt the first wave of climax—
Then he stopped.
“It’s still not me, is it?”
“Wh—wha—?”
His lips moved down my neck. “It’s insufferably vain of me, but if I’m going to seduce you, I want to be the cause of your arousal, not passive recipient.”
“You don’t seem all that passive to me.”
He laughed, but shook his head, fingers on my thigh.
I craned around to look at him. “So you’re just going to leave me hanging?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, would it?”