Shifters’ Captive(19)

John whispered in her ear, “Keep the door locked.” He nudged Perron in the back, toward the cabin door.

Sherrie bolted the door then looked out the window, watching the headlights of the Blazer swing away and the taillights disappear down the track. She couldn’t see Grant in the dark, but felt him out there. Was he still man or had he turned into his animal form to patrol the night?

Leaving the window, she went to the kitchen for a bottle of water, which she emptied in a few gulps.

She picked up the sleeping bag from the floor and draped it around her shoulders before sitting on the musty futon. There was no way she could sleep with her brain jumping like she was on speed. One twist after another had warped her life into an unrecognizable shape and she couldn’t stop reliving every moment of the past day. She also couldn’t stop picturing a panther prowling outside the door of the cabin.

She wrapped her arms around her body and lay back with her head on the flat pillow, gazing at the bolted door. I’ve had sex with a wolfman and now I’m lusting after a man who turns into a mountain lion.

This has been the weirdest day of my life. Her muscles twitched, and her skin tingled. She’d never be able to fall asleep…

It didn’t surprise her when Grant Perron was suddenly standing beside the futon, gazing down at her.

Locked door or not, she’d known he would come. His appearance was inevitable. It was her destiny.

He didn’t say a word, merely smiled at her, a glorious Apollo of a man with his dark blond hair and white teeth. He sat beside her on the bed and rested his hand on her belly. Her flesh felt branded by the heat. She expected to look down and see her skin smoking.

“Feel me?” His mouth didn’t form the words. They were inside her head as he was.

“Is this a dream?” But she knew it was no mere dream. On some plane beyond the physical, he was with her. Yet every sensation was concrete, and there was none of the flighty change of scenery or storyline that usually accompanied her dreams.

“It’s real enough. Don’t think too hard. Go with it. You can do whatever you want here. There are no limits.”

Sherrie glanced down at her body and saw it was true. Because she wanted to have his hot hand caress her bare skin, she was naked. No limits. The very words evoked erotic fantasies. If there were no limits, what would she want to do? The possibilities made her feel indecisive, and so she suggested, “I want you to take control.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She felt she’d made a deal with the devil as a slow smile spread across his face, but he reassured her by his velvet-pawed caresses on her stomach.

“Don’t look so worried. I won’t hurt you…more than what you want.” His nails scratched her then, light and tickling. It didn’t hurt, but sent lustful shivers through her. Her belly twitched violently and her nipples grew taut as he scratched a path up to her breasts. He batted them lightly as a cat would play with a toy, and they jiggled, sending more delicious quivers coursing through her body.

With a deep chuckle, Grant leaned and drew one of her nipples between his lips. He bathed it with his warm, wet tongue, and Sherrie’s thighs tensed at the jolt of electricity that speared from his tugging mouth down to her crotch. He lightly plucked at her other nipple with his fingers and then his teasing grew abruptly harsh. His teeth scored her areola, and his fingernails dug into the base of her nipple.

Sherrie yelped and twisted, loving the pain and wanting more. Perron alternated rough treatment with soft suckling and gentle caresses, bringing her closer and closer to climax without touching any part of her except her breasts.

Her eyes closed, and she shivered and thrust her hips against the air.

“Don’t come yet.” His rough command and the cessation of his touch brought her back from the brink of orgasm.

Sherrie opened her eyes and focused blearily on his handsome face.

“Not yet. We have a long way to go.” He cupped a breast in each hand, simply holding them and waiting for her to relax and come down from the edge of climax.

At last he took her mouth in a slow kiss as luxuriant as a bed with satin sheets and pillows. With John there’d been a frenzied, ravenous speed to their fucking, mouths clashing, bodies smashing together. Both of them had been so eager and hungry they’d been incapable of taking their time. But Grant seemed ready to toy with her for hours.

He traced the shape of her lips with his tongue before slipping it delicately between them. His mouth tasted like aged whiskey, heady and powerful, not a physical taste but a sensation. The lines between Sherrie’s senses blurred in this dream space; sight became smell, taste and touch were one. Her heart’s pounding and Grant’s breathing had texture and shape, moss soft and gauze delicate.