CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Hearing the bathroom doorknob squeak, Quinley warned, “I’m not quite done yet.” Give a girl a second, would you?

But the door swung open anyway, and then Isaiah stood right there—his feet planted, his face cold, his eyes hot.

She stilled, feeling a little like a deer caught in the headlights at the sheer sexual intent in his expression. Her pulse jerkily jumped, and her skin prickled as teensy little bumps rose.

His gaze dropped to her red-velvet bra, tracing over the white-fur trim and honing right in on the little bell that dangled from a bow between her breasts. His attention dipped lower, taking in the matching, diamante-buckled mini skirt—it was so short it left her ass pretty much bare and just about covered her clit. And then his eyes coasted further down, lapping up the sheer red stockings that featured tiny red bows on the lacy tops.

She hadn’t yet pulled on the skimpy red thong that came with the outfit. The impatient bastard hadn’t given her enough time, despite that she’d told him she’d return to the bedroom once ready.

His eyes skated back up to pin her with an unblinking stare, his focus absolute and unwavering. Her cat froze. The look in his eyes wasn’t human. It was too feral. Too hungry. Too predatory. And positively indecent with how much carnality it transmitted.

Droplets of excitement rained down on Quinley. She was gonna get royally fucked and she knew it. Welcomed it.

A muggy tension simmered in the air, turning it thick and static. He didn’t move. Just stared, his inborn air of dominance sharper and more intense than usual. Almost electric. Her cat reveled in it.

Quinley realized he had something balled up in his fist. Something white. But she couldn’t make out what it was.

And then she didn’t care, because he was coming toward her, a sense of purpose in every step.

Her heart lost all sense of rhythm. Anticipation sizzled across her nerve-endings. Her fingers flexed with a delicious nervousness.

He halted in front of her, lightly brushing his nose over hers, nuzzling her face. His attention zipped to something over her shoulder, and she knew he’d be checking the rear of her outfit through her reflection in the mirror there.

He let his stubbled cheek rasp against hers and kneaded one globe of her ass. “Utter perfection,” he said, a gritty rumble to his voice.

She swallowed hard, lifting her hands to touch him.

Isaiah gave a shake of his head and stepped back. He then lifted his balled-up fist and loosened it, allowing what he held to uncurl and dangle in front of her.

The silk tie from her robe.

Her pulse skittered.

“Hold out your wrists together in front of you.” The dominance embedded in his tone settled on her bones, seized her compliance, and steadied her mind even as it sent her hormones into meltdown.

She allowed everything else to fall away as she centered her world on him, them, this moment. As she followed his instruction, she saw a sheen of pride in his eyes.

“You can’t know how much it pleases me that you let go this way.” He knotted the tie around her wrists, securely binding them together but not so tight it hurt. “If that starts to get uncomfortable, I want to hear about it.”

She gave a firm nod.

His tongue eased out and licked along her bottom lip. “Good girl.”

He swooped down and took her mouth. The kiss was fevered in its intensity and laced with pure entitlement; a kiss so heady she didn’t notice he was herding her backwards until her skin met the cool tiled wall.

Isaiah freed her mouth, grabbed her joined hands, lifted them up, and attached them to the hook high above her head using the silk tie.

Well, now.

Satisfaction rippled across his face. “All mine to do with what I wish.”

She gave a light, testing tug on the knot. No give. It sent her excitement soaring and stirred her cat up in the best way.

He trailed a finger down the column of her throat and between the valley of her breasts, flicking the bell there. “So that’s what I heard the other day.”

Quinley watched as he planted a hand on her stomach, spreading his fingers wide to claim as much skin as he could.

“My babies are going to grow in here, you know.” One fingertip roamed downward until he reached her skirt. He flipped it up, and his eyes flared as they went from hot to scorching. “Bare.”

Her heart thumped in her chest as he went to his knees. Again, her skirt was shoved up. She gasped as his tongue did an idle swirl around her tight bundle of nerves.

“Now,” he began, his pitch lowering, “we both know you don’t last long when I go down on you. But tonight, you’re going to hold out until I’m done.” Notes of dominance, compulsion, and sexual power were all threaded through his voice. “Is that understood?”

Was it understood? Yes. Was it possible? Likely not. “And if I fail?”

“I fuck you, but I don’t let you come.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Call that an incentive to help you hold out.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“You can. You will. Because I told you to.”

Isaiah threw one of her legs over his shoulder, the stocking incredibly soft but still nowhere near as soft as the luscious thigh he then gripped. Having her hanging right there on that hook, his own personal plaything completely at his mercy, was like a hot fist around his cock.

The earthy scent of her pussy drew him closer. He nuzzled her with a hum. “Already slick. Good.”

He wanted to fucking devour her, but she’d come too fast if he did. So he stuck to featherlight licks of his tongue, barely-there nips of his teeth, and shallow dips of his finger.

He loved eating her out. Loved her taste. Her scent. The little noises she made.

Quinley tilted her head back and tried arching into his mouth. He didn’t let her, keeping his grip on her ass firm so he could hold her hips at the exact angle he wanted them.

Stifling a smile at her low hiss of irritation, he took her clit between his lips and suckled over and over. She gasped, her leg pressing against his back. He went motionless, keeping his tongue pressed on her clit with the barest amount of pressure—enough to tease, madden, and inflame.

Then he shoved two fingers inside her.

She moaned, her inner walls beginning to spasm.

He pulled back and withdrew his fingers. “Oh no you don’t.”

She whimpered in frustration, sagging against the wall. “Why don’t you like me anymore?”

He didn’t bother holding back a chuckle. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

Isaiah went back to eating her out. Not soft or light this time, though. He dug right in and feasted.

With firm licks, suckling bites, and thrusts of his tongue, he drove her up high yet again. He knew her. Knew she was raring to come. But he didn’t ease off.

He swiped his tongue up, down, left, and right; dragged it over her slick folds in a zigzag fashion; rubbed it along the side of her clit. But even as her thigh muscles quivered and her pussy quaked and her breathing went to shit, she held out for him.

“Such a good girl,” he praised. “You can come now.” He tugged on her clit and bit into her inner thigh hard, making his cat—drunk on her scent—growl in approval.

She came with a rasp of his name, her head falling back.

Isaiah surged to his feet and lowered his zipper, needing to be in her more than he needed to fucking breathe. He caught her ass again, lifted her, angled her hips just right, and nudged the broad tip of his dick inside her.

Her fuck-drunk eyes fixed on his, the gleam of her cat’s gaze moving just behind them. The sight drew his own cat closer.

“Come whenever you want.” He roughly rocked his hips upward, slamming deep, taking what was his.

Her breath hitched, her body jolted, and her pussy spasmed around him.

Isaiah groaned through gritted teeth. “Feel how deep I am, Quin. Feel me use you.” He railed her hard, the drive to once more stake his claim beating in his blood and throbbing in his soul. The little bell on her bra jingled with every dig of his cock.

He looked down, watching her tits bounce in the red velvet cups. Tits that were as perfect as the rest of her and looked even prettier all covered in his marks.

Feeling her pussy start to heat around him, he snarled, “Who owns you?”

Once more, those sex-drunk eyes locked with his. “You.”

He fucked her harder, jacking his hips upward again and again, his senses feasting on her—the spicy scent of her need, the carnal picture she made, her breathy moans and gasps, the hot viselike clasp of her pussy.

He let one fingertip whisper over the bud between the globes of her ass. “I’m taking this tonight, Quin. I’m gonna fuck it until you scream.”

Her pussy fluttered, rippled, tightened, squeezed. And then she fractured with a rough cry, her head tipping back.

“Fuck, baby.” He punched his cock faster, deeper, brutally. His release smacked into him like a battering ram, all but flattening him as her inner muscles milked him dry.

She went limp in his hold, breathing as hard as he was. He planted a kiss on her temple, sated and replete. Worried her wrists or shoulders might be hurting, he glided his cock out of her, put her on her feet, and then freed her hands. “You okay?”

Her only response was a gratified hum. She rested her body weight against his while he massaged the full length of her arms from her fingers all the way up to her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she pretty much purred.

He cleaned her up with a wet cloth and helped her remove her outfit, knowing she wouldn’t want to sleep in it, and then guided her into the bedroom. He slipped one of his tees on her and then ushered her into bed. She flopped on her front with a sated sigh.

Isaiah settled beside her and snaked his hand under the tee to palm her ass. “Christmas wasn’t shaping up to be all too good this year. Then came you.”

She smiled. “Right back atcha. December is usually my favorite month. The closer it gets to Christmas, the giddier I get. But not this time.” Her smile dimmed. “There was too much dread around the thought of Harlan and Nel stepping down. Too much uncertainty about what lay ahead. I was sad and mad and stressed out. Then came you.”

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, not liking that she’d spent months in that state; feeling as if—irrational though it was—he should have been there for her. But he hadn’t known she existed back then. Neither of them had even signed up for FindYourMatch.com or been ready for this step.

“I had a really great day,” she said. “Your parents are the shit.”

A fond smile curled his mouth. “They are.” He paused, his lips pursing. “You never mention your parents.”

Quinley didn’t tense. It had been an observation, not a complaint.

“I didn’t want to ask, because I have no wish to make you talk about something that’s painful to remember,” he went on before she could respond. “But if the imprinting is to progress, we can’t keep things from each other. Secrets act as blocks to the bond.”

It wasn’t so much that she was being secretive, just that it was habit to not raise the subject. “It’s not really as painful to talk about as it should be,” she admitted. “Obviously, it’s devastating that they died. I wish with everything in me that I hadn’t lost them. But I don’t remember either of them well enough for it to hurt whenever I think or talk about them.”

“That’s only to be expected. You were a kid when they died.”

“Just five,” she confirmed.

He idly dragged his fingertips down her bare arm. “How did they die?”

“My dad had a heart attack. He’d always had a weak heart. It was a birth defect that no healer could fix.” It sadly worked that way sometimes. “My mom wasted away within a week of him dying.”

“It’s not easy for shifters to survive the breaking of a bond,” he noted.

It was, in fact, exceedingly difficult. Still, some managed it, though they were allegedly never the same afterward. “Adaline said that Mom fought the pull to let go, but I don’t get the sense that that’s true. My opinion? My sister lied because she didn’t want me to think our mom gave up and willingly left us.”

His brow pinched. “What makes you feel it was a lie?”

“Adaline wouldn’t meet my eyes, and Raya got all fidgety and turned away. Plus, they avoid talking about Mom. And whenever I’d ask questions, they’d keep their answers short and sweet. Like it hurt them to think of her. But when I’d ask about Dad, they’d smile and tell me all sorts of stories.”

“Ah,” he said, understanding. “It’s normal for some to feel betrayed if a parent made no attempt to cling to life for their sake in such situations.”

Absolutely. “I totally get it. That’s why I don’t push for them to talk about her and why it’s become habit for me to just not mention my parents at all. It’s not like I need to hear more. I know enough, and I remember some things.”

“You said Adaline raised you. Didn’t anyone else in your family attempt to step in?”

“My dad’s parents were already long gone from the world—they died before I was born. He had no siblings, and we didn’t know his extended relatives well. According to Adaline, his uncle from another pride did offer to take us in, but she didn’t like him much. Apparently, Dad hadn’t liked him either.”

“What about your mom’s family?”

“She wasn’t in contact with them, not even her parents. They all live in another pride.”

Unable to envision a reality in which Isaiah wouldn’t be in touch with his parents, he asked, “Why the gulf between her and them?”

“They hadn’t wanted her to mate with my dad because it was well-known due to his heart defect that he might not live a long life—it’s typical for shifters with that condition, because the life we live and the amount of shifting we do causes too much strain on a weak heart. But she didn’t care. She wanted to be with him.”

“Were they true mates?”

“Yes, so it’s pretty unreasonable that they expected her to walk away from him.”

Very. It wasn’t exactly a simple thing to ignore that you’d discovered your true mate. Yes, you could move on and still be happy—he and Quinley were examples of that. But not many shifters would abandon their fated mate over something like a health issue.

“Then her father challenged mine in protest, knowing what a duel could do to his health; probably hoping my mom would be put off on seeing how physically weak my dad was. It backfired. My mother appealed to Harlan to object to the duel, which he did. She then apparently disowned her parents, for which I can’t blame her.”

Neither could Isaiah. As something occurred to him, he narrowed his eyes. “So she always knew he might live a short life compared to other shifters, then.”

“Yes. I think that’s why my sisters are so mad she didn’t fight. She’d had years to prepare for the day his heart might give out—it wasn’t a shock to her. But she just let go.”

Yeah, it made sense why Adaline and Raya would therefore be so upset. “What about you? Are you mad?”

“No, I get it. Just as I get why my sisters are mad.” She bit her lip. “From what I do remember of my parents, they were so tight. He was her entire world and doted on her. She lived for him. But then she couldn’t, because he wasn’t here anymore. So I understand why she might not have felt able to go on without him.”

“It’s easy to say a person should fight.”

“It is. But you don’t know if you’ll have the strength or will to do it. Not really. I don’t think I would if you …” She trailed off, swallowing.

Warmth flooding his chest, he nuzzled her shoulder. “I don’t think I’d be able to do it either. Or that my cat would want me to.” The animal wouldn’t want to be without her any more than Isaiah would.

“I have to be honest, I didn’t expect him to become so … invested. I believed he’d eventually come to consider me his mate, but I guess I always thought—given how wounded he was—that our connection wouldn’t be airtight.”

“How wrong you were.”

She snorted. “You didn’t expect it either.”

“Initially, no, I didn’t. But I’m not at all surprised that he is so attached to you and your cat. You fit us in a way that would be scary if we weren’t determined to keep you.”

“Totally get you on that one. I hope we won’t be one of those couples who has to wait years before the bond makes itself fully known.”

“I don’t think we will.”

She gave him a pointed look. “You want to think that, so you think that. But we can’t know it, because the process of imprinting isn’t easy to understand or predict.”

“No, but I still feel confident that the process won’t be dragged out.” He squeezed her ass. “Don’t worry so much.”

“I’m not worried, just impatient.”

“You’re worried,” he asserted, having already sensed it.

“Only because it would devastate me if everything went tits up. Being rejected by Zaire broke something in me. It took a while to mend. But to lose you would break all of me, and I don’t think I’d ever heal.”

His lungs burning with emotion, he pressed his forehead to hers. “You’ll never have to know if you’re right on that. We will imprint all the way, Quin. Our bond will be solid and vibrant. And it’s never going to weaken or break.”

“I hope not. Because you gave me you. No takebacks.”

His lips curved. “Same goes for you.” He lifted his forehead from hers and kissed her. “Nap.”

Her brow arched. “Nap?”

“I told you I was taking this ass tonight,” he said, sweeping his finger between the soft globes. “I wasn’t kidding.” To claim every part of her was a craving so primitive it badgered him constantly.

“You’re letting me ‘nap’ because you like startling me awake by touching my no-no places,” she accused.

He grinned. “Not one part on your body is a no-no place for me. I get to touch, taste, and take whatever I want.”

“Well, yeah, there is that.”

“Hmm, so nap.”

“Okay.” A put-out response, but she closed her eyes and let sleep pull her under.