Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Why do you call me that?” she finally asks. “Little Kitty.”
“Because you need protecting, but you also have claws.” I hold her gaze. She is fucking stunning, and she doesn’t even know it. “And your eyes are like a cat’s eyes. A tigress.” I touch her chin and tilt her face up to mine. “And for reasons I can’t quite explain, I like taking care of you.”
“A tigress doesn’t need taking care of.”
“But you are just a baby tigress. Turn around, Little Kitty, so I can get this dress off and finally get a look at you.” I start to turn her, but she sets both hands to the middle of my chest and stops me.
“I may be smaller than you, but I do have claws. So just watch out,” she warns.
Her warning makes me chuckle. She does not know how cute she is. I touch a thumb to the dark liner at the corner of her eye and smudge it. “I told them not too much.”
“Oh, they listened.” She grins, wide and defiant, but at least I’ve distracted her from her question. “I just fixed it after they left.”
“Maybe I should take you over my knee and spank you for your disobedience.”
Her cheeks flush bright and I grin, remembering that this warning had the same effect the last time. My Little Kitty may like what I’m suggesting. I make a mental note.
“If you lay a finger on me, I’ll kill you,” she says, wholly unconvincing as her eyes betray her arousal.
“Oh I plan on laying much more than a finger on you,” I say. “And those claws…” I take her hands, kissing the knuckles of each. I lean in to inhale her scent. She’s still wearing mine, and I find I like this oddity—like that she doesn’t hide the fact that she wanted my scent on her, that she’s been wearing it for years. “Those claws, Little Kitty,” I whisper, kissing the curve of her neck before sliding the scruff of my jaw up to her ear and along the shell of it. “You can scratch them down my back when you come for me tonight.”
She snarls, literally snarls. I can’t help but laugh as she tries to shove me away, but I hold onto her wrists and walk her backward to the bed.
“I will never come for you,” she tells me.
“Won’t you?” I ask. “I accept the challenge.” With a grin, I spin her to face away from me and keep her hands in one of mine at her stomach while I draw the hidden zipper down, the fine silk slipping away to expose her back. “Beautiful.”
I brush my fingers over soft skin, pushing the dress off her shoulders, feeling her shudder as I do.
“Santos,” she starts uncertainly as the dress slips off her arms and pools around her feet so she’s left wearing a matching set of lace panties and bra in virginal white.
I take her in before I turn her to face me. My gaze drops from her wide eyes to the pale, exposed skin, to the dark points of her nipples and, finally, the little triangle of hair barely hidden by the lace of her panties.
My dick responds. Ten years is a long time to only be intimate with one’s hand.
Her throat works as she swallows, and when her anxious gaze moves down toward the erection pressing against my slacks, then back up to my face, her eyes are wide. The look inside them has me grinning.
“The question is how many times am I going to make you come,” I say, grabbing her when she spins away, lifting her and laying her on the bed.
She gasps, gaze shifting once more to my erection before she scurries backward, but I catch her ankle easily and tug her toward me.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Little Kitty. You and I are just getting started.”
14
Madelena
I’m trapped by his big hand. It’s warm around my ankle, and I’m unsure where to look. His eyes have gone nearly black. He looks starved, more beast than man. I remember what he’d said, that he hadn’t been with a woman in a decade.
Ten years.
How does a man do that? A man like him, at that? Don’t they need to fuck every few days or weeks at least?
But I don’t have time to think when he tugs me to the edge of the bed. I yelp, dropping backward onto my elbows as he crouches between my thighs, wrapping his arms around them, biceps straining his shirt. I watch him look at me, my open legs, my sex inches from his face, a scrap of lace the only thing between us.
When he presses his nose to me and breathes in deeply, I squeeze my eyes shut, embarrassed and aroused and unsure what to do.
“You’re wet, Madelena,” he says darkly. “And you smell like I can sink my teeth into you.”