Sassy Ever After: Kissing Sassy (Kindle Worlds Novella) (5 page)

Later that night, exhausted from the day, she’d settled into bed and was just dozing off when the bedroom door opened. Stunned someone would enter without announcing their presence, she rolled to her back and sat up, catching sight of Cajun as he stripped off his shirt and discarded the garment with a careless toss. The tee hit the floor as his fingers worked on releasing his jeans.

He had a great body. Tattoos littered his chest, running down into his jeans and disappearing. Ink-sleeves spread across both arms to his wrists, a detailed depiction of the swamp on one arm and a montage to jazz on the other one. “Mom” was inked over his heart, with “Aunt B” directly below that. His obvious affection for his mother and his aunt resulted in her heart thawing just a smidge toward him. His knuckles weren’t tatted up and neither was his neck.

“What are you doing?” Did she sound breathy instead of stern?

“Getting undressed.”

“I
see
that. Why?”

“Can’t sleep with clothes on.” His jeans hit the floor with a thump, pooling around his ankles, until he kicked them aside.

“S-sure you can.” He filled out those boxer briefs better than an underwear model. Olivia gulped, but the action did nothing to dissolve her sudden dry mouth.

“What are you wearing under those covers?”

Not enough, but then again she thought she could be covered from neck to toe and he’d still make her feel like she was naked beneath his gaze. Deciding that question led to trouble, she selected a different topic. “I’m not sharing a room with you, Cajun.”

“I’m not sleeping on the floor outside your door like an obedient dog.” She licked her lips, and he said, “Someone could sneak in the window, so I’m staying close.”

“You’d smell them before they breached the window.”

“Then I’m not a gentleman.” He shrugged, his gaze a little detached, but when he spoke she realized his detachment seemed more like jealousy. “What does it matter to you? You don’t mind nudity with other guys.”

“Don’t be an ass. That was my job.”

“Protecting you is my job.”

“Try again.” Undeterred, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his underwear, and she said, “
Stop
.”

“I’m not shy, Olivia. Feel free to look.”

And the material left his body in a
swish
across the hair of his legs. Olivia gaped as he hardened beneath her stare.

“I love the way your arousal smells,” he said, right before he shifted into wolf form.

On four legs, he moved straight for her across the mattress, his snout burying between her legs. Thank God for the covers separating them, otherwise he’d have his nose sniffing against her panties.

Olivia grabbed his white pointed ears and yanked his head up. Intelligent, gray eyes blinked at her. For reasons she couldn’t understand, she softened and slid her fingers through his fur. “Too soon, Cajun.”

He made a snuffling noise and licked her cheek, before moving to her hip and curling at her side. “
Sweet dreams, Olivia, you’re safe.”

Startled by his mental talk, she ogled him. No one before him had vowed to protect her, at least not without payment. And her bodyguard had proven money wasn’t always worth the danger. Cajun understood better than anyone the risk she faced, and he planned to help solve her problem.

“You’re thinking too hard. Go to sleep.”

At Cajun’s words, she turned her head and spied him watching her. It was a good thing he was in his canine fur, because in that moment she was weak and, had he been in his man skin, she would’ve rolled into him and kissed him. Who knew how far things would’ve gone then?

Olivia closed her eyes and let sleep take her under.

Cajun

“These are good.” Olivia flipped through Cajun’s workbook of tattoos. His chest swelled with pride, pleased that she liked his work. “Would you tattoo me if I wanted one?”

“If that’s what you really want.” He looked up from his sketchpad to gauge her seriousness. Sometimes folks mentioned getting ink simply because that was his job and they made polite conversation. “I wouldn’t want you to do it on a whim and regret it later.

“You’re
really
good, and I’ve always wanted one.”

That meant she didn’t already have one. A little shudder went through him at the idea of being her first. “Tattoo virgin.”

“Yeah.” She fiddled with a lock of hair, coming across a little demure with the action.

With their sexual tension off the charts, he’d attempted to keep things light between them the past few days. It’d been two days of sexual hell.

To make matters worse, this morning he’d woken to the spicy sounds of her pleasure, soft whimpers a human wouldn’t have heard, but his canine senses picked up with ease. In the privacy of her shower, his mate attempted to reduce her frustration by rubbing one out. Cajun wouldn’t have it. If he suffered from blue balls, then she’d suffer from the female equivalent of the same.

He’d leapt from the bed on four feet, shifting as he walked across the room to pound on the bathroom door. “I can hear you masturbating, Olivia.”

She’d given a sexy little gasp, and he’d just barely restrained himself from tearing the door off its hinges and joining her. He’d stood at that door scenting her arousal, waiting for her to exit the shower. When she opened the door, he’d blocked her exit. Not an ounce of guilt hit her face, as she’d glared at him, jutting her chin outward in a defiant slant. He’d almost kissed her and used his fingers to make her come. Anything to burn the sound of her pleasure into his memory.

“Never saw any artists I thought were good enough to do me until you.” Her comment jerked him out of the past and into the present.

Christ, does she even know how
that
sounded?
“Snob.” Winking at her, he shoved away from his art table, the wheels on his chair making
clack-clackety
noises as he wheeled toward where she sat. “What type of tat would you want and where?”

“A sexy sorceress with a magical ball in her hand.”

Fitting since that would honor her lineage.

“And maybe on my inner forearm, if it’d fit.”

“A badass sexpot for my sextress.” He caught her hand and turned it over to expose her forearm.

As he grabbed a sheet of paper to trace the measurement of her arm, she asked, “What’s a sextress?”

“You.” Cajun flicked a peek at her. “My sexy actress.”

“Looks aren’t everything, Cajun.” Olivia sounded unsure, and he knew something went on in her head.

“You know you’re a sex kitten to half the world, so what’s up with that comment?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes it’d be nice to be seen as a person rather than a wet dream.”

“Chin up, beautiful.” He nudged his thumb across her chin. “My wolf wants you because of the way you smell and because you’re ours, the perfect mate designed just for me. That’s got nothing to do with your looks. I’ve seen your movies and never felt any emotion for you until you walked into Sassy Wolfe.”

“Did you ever watch my movies and then fuck afterward? Or, you know, self-pleasure.”

“You mean masturbate?” He grinned, finding it adorable that she wouldn’t say the word, while she’d said harsher, sexier things in some of her movies. She nodded, and he considered her, wondering which answer she wanted. “Did you want me to?”

“I’ve never really considered myself a sex symbol. That title is best left to Marilyn Monroe. I didn’t have any celebrity crushes as a teen. I was too busy moving between foster homes.”

“Marilyn Monroe has nothing on you.”

She rolled her eyes and rubbed her wrist where he’d just been touching her. “Of course you’d say that.”

He set the measurement of her arm on the table and stretched his legs out, eyeing her. She wanted straight talk so he’d give it to her. “Honestly, Olivia, I’d never fuck a girl while thinking of or desiring someone else. It’s not my style. I wouldn’t be with her if I couldn’t totally be
with her
. What’s the point? I’d be cheating myself as much as her. When I’m with
you, I’ll only ever be
with you
.”

Her eyes softened a touch, getting a little misty, and he knew he’d said the right thing. The right thing was easy to say when it was also the truth. He’d never been one of those guys looking at other girls while with someone else. Women were meant to be cherished, to love, not to minimize or use as sex objects. He would have executed a fist pump in the air if he wouldn’t lose ground with her. She made it hard to break through her outer shell, but that would make winning her heart all the more special.

“No jacking off to posters as a teenager?” As his grandma would say, the devil was in her eyes, and his cock liked the vulgar comment falling from her lips.

“Didn’t say that. I was like any horny teenager, sex always on my mind.”
Kinda like how I feel around you now
. “The flash of a butt-cheek had me popping wood at inappropriate moments.”

“Good to know you’re not perfect.”

“Far from it.” The government had turned him into damn near the perfect killer, and he’d almost lost himself to the savagery of his wolf during those years, but he no longer took pride in that. “I accept and cuddle with my demons.”

Olivia laughed, her features relaxing as her humor died away. The smile left lingering on her lips made his wolf stand up and take notice, his tail wagging like crazy. Something had shifted between them. The air became less tense, and even her body language grew more relaxed. “So tell me about your first time.”

Was this a ‘getting to know you’ session? He grasped the idea with both hands and went with it, because it meant he could ask her personal questions too. “You don’t want to know that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was awkward, on a boat in the middle of the bayou, with gators bumping the boat, and I lasted about twelve seconds. She was not impressed.”

“Yeah… mine was a mirror image of yours except without the bayou, gators, boat, and I sure didn’t come.”

She will come more than once with me.
It was a vow she could bank on.

“I was sixteen. How old were you?”

“Fifteen.” Dragging the outline of Olivia’s arm across the table to rest in front of him, he picked up his pencil and started to sketch the design she’d mentioned. “She was eighteen.”

“Isn’t that statutory rape?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. Probably, but we live a lot differently in the bayou.”

“You ever been in love?”

“No.” He held her gaze. “You?”

“No.”

Cajun breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing her answer mattered to him until she responded. Crazy, yeah, but he wanted to be her first and only love. As he penciled the sorceress figure, he asked, “How many lovers have you had, Olivia?”

Keeping his attitude cool, he pretended to focus on his drawing, but from the corner of his eye, he watched as she tilted her head to get a better view of what he drew. “A few good ones. Too many bad ones. Lately, I prefer my vibrator.”

His grip tightened on the pencil, and the lead broke.
I will not look at her.
If he did, he’d drag her into his arms and show her how spectacular their connection would make sex between them. Just because he didn’t have experience with this type of bond didn’t mean he didn’t know when they came together those fireworks chicks talked about would happen, and he’d never roll his eyes at the concept again.
But how do I compete with a vibrator
?

“Don’t get me wrong,” she went on, obviously not noticing his distress. “Even bad lovers are better than none. It’s about human touch sometimes and not the orgasm.”

The loneliness of that statement hit him hard, like a gut-punch. No way he could ignore it. He turned his head and looked at her, realizing Aunt B was right. Olivia was lonely, and he’d bet his nuts she dealt mostly with fake friends. Her occupation pretty much eliminated any real ones.

“What?” she asked when he said nothing, but just studied her.

“I give human touch, free of charge, no strings attached. Hugs, kisses, caresses, orgasms, all of it free because you deserve it, are entitled to affection, without any expectations of returning the favor.”

Right before she lowered her gaze, he caught the way her green eyes darkened. As she fiddled with her fingers in her lap, Cajun knew in his gut no one had ever put her first or made her feel special.

“Theodore Gustav Wolfe, huh?”

The change of subject concerned him. Bringing up his full name confused him even more. His given name had been mentioned a couple of days ago, so why reference it now, after he’d offered himself as a beacon of light in her lonely life?

“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair, wishing he could figure Olivia Scott out, but deciding almost immediately he preferred her just the way she was… unpredictable. Christ, this woman made him crazy. Even crazier, for the first time in his life, he wanted someone else’s happiness more than his own. “You can understand why I prefer Cajun now.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Theodore is sexy.”

“It’s what my parents call me.” It was sexy hearing his name on her tongue too. His cock agreed smacking against his zipper. He shifted a little in his chair, cursing his inappropriate woody, and winced in discomfort. “You want color on your tattoo?”

“Which way will it look better?”

“Either. Just depends on what you prefer.”

“Color then.” Cajun sketched a good thirty minutes before she spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making you uncomfortable.” Confused, he looked at her, and she glanced toward his crotch.

“What can I say, catin? Around you, I’m a twin of my teenage years.”