Wild Cat (31 page)

She removed her bra and found another camisole. She needed to go shopping soon because all the clothes that had been sent over from her house were getting a little too snug. Still, the little form-fitting camisole with the lace-up ties in the front, cupping her breasts, seemed just perfect, even if her breasts were more generous than they had been. She tightened the laces, and admired the marks Elijah left behind on the tops of the curves. Just looking at the smudges sent a thrill down her spine.

She wrapped herself in her sweater just in case any of the men were patrolling the halls, although she was fairly certain Elijah would get them out of the house after his meeting. He seemed pretty certain no one would interrupt them in the kitchen.

She put her hair up. Took it down. Braided it. Took the braid out. Her hair was beautiful, she couldn't deny that, but there was so much of it. If she wore it down, it would be everywhere. He didn't like it up so much. Still, she settled on pulling it back in a loose ponytail, keeping it off her face. She wanted to be able to see him every second.

*   *   *

E
LIJAH
entered his office. The atmosphere was just as heightened as when he'd left. He got straight to the point. He wanted to be with his woman, not fucking around with crap. “You good with where she wants to be?” he demanded.

Alonzo nodded. There was the slightest glimmer of humor in his flat, cold eyes. “She is going to be a handful. You have no idea.”

He had more than an idea. She was going to have
words
with him.
Dios mio.
Words. She was fucking adorable and it was impossible, when she was pissed at him and about to have
words
, to do anything but rip her clothes off and take her hard and fast wherever they were.
Dios.
Words.

He kept his features a blank mask. This was important. “You still her soldier even though she belongs to me?”

Alonzo nodded slowly, not blinking, his amber eyes focused, his cat close. “You need to take over for Tonio. You don't, there's going to be all-out war and she'll be caught in the middle. You're respected. The council will accept you.”

“You willing to work for me?”

Alonzo studied him. Didn't just jump right in and grab at the chance. He took his time deciding, turning the idea over in his mind.

“You going to keep her out of this? Really keep her out, not like Tonio, having her deliver fucking wine to distract his marks so his man could slip inside to take them out. Really keep her out of it.”

“That's the plan.” Elijah didn't like explaining himself—not to anyone. But the truth was, soldiers like Alonzo were worth their weight in gold. He would be loyal, and more, he would work his ass off to keep Siena safe. Siena and his child.

Alonzo nodded slowly. “I'm in.”

Elijah held up his hand, glanced at Drake, who nodded and then turned back to Alonzo. He gestured to the comfortable high-backed leather chair. “Take a seat.” He slipped
behind his desk. Drake took one corner of the desk. Joshua, Joaquin and Tomas remained leaning against the wall.

Alonzo didn't like sitting in the chair. That left him more vulnerable to an attack than ever. Still, after a moment's hesitation, he did it.

“You know anything about Drake Donovan?” Elijah asked, waving a hand toward Drake.

Alonzo nodded. “He's leopard. Fast. Skilled. Know enough to be surprised he associates with Elijah Lospostos. Don't mean that in a bad way, just a fact. He's got a reputation. Hard man. Not one to cross. Tonio warned us to back off anything he was involved in.”

“I'm warning you now, we go any further, I tell you much more, you want out, or you decide to betray us, you're a dead man.”

“Always been leopard. Always been family. I know the rules. I said yes, and my word is binding.”

Elijah studied his face. “You ever consider a different way of life?”

“I told you, don't know any other way. I was born for this. Can't live normal.”

“Didn't say normal. Didn't say easy, Alonzo. Some time ago, I decided I didn't want the life of Elijah Lospostos. I ran into Drake, and he taught me a better way. The underbelly is always going to be there. Always. We take someone out, someone else fills that void. That's just the way of things. But that doesn't mean we can't control that shit. Who is in power. What they do. It's all based on money. On deals. We control the money and deals and we control who's in power.”

Alonzo sat very still, turning the information over and over in his mind. Elijah already had recognized that the man was intelligent. He was also careful and thoughtful. He didn't jump to conclusions. He might say he wasn't material to be a king, but with a little training and experience, Elijah could shape him for that role. More than ever, he wanted the soldier committed to their work.

“Dangerous,” Alonzo mused.

Elijah nodded. “Particularly so with those who are leopard. We have to get them out first. They can hear a lie. Around the others, we have an advantage, around shifters, no. Shifters can read us as easily as we read them. So it takes work to get around that.”

“Siena know you doubled the danger to yourself?”

Elijah's features hardened. His eyes went pure cat. “No. And she's not going to know unless I see fit to share. You don't give a woman all the shit you're in all at once if you intend to keep her, and I intend to keep Siena. We keep her safe and we take apart the underworld and build it back in a way we can control. At least our part of it. I'll take over Siena's territory at least long enough for the council to agree. We'll have to find Paolo and kill him. In the meantime, we have to discredit him with Tonio's soldiers.”

“And Robert Gaton?”

“He tried to kill her. I'll hunt him to the ends of the earth, and when I find him, I'll tear out his fucking heart,” Elijah snapped.

Alonzo nodded slowly. “Wanna be there for that.”

Elijah sat back in his chair. “You in all the way?”

Alonzo got to his feet and moved around the desk to Elijah's side. He reached for the outstretched hand. The ring indicating the head of the Lospostos family. The ring indicating Elijah was a leopard. A shifter. A king. And Alonzo swore his fidelity. Meaning it.

“M
Y
man can really cook,” Siena said, inhaling the amazing aromas filling the kitchen. She leaned over the counter, half coming off the barstool to closer inspect what he was doing. “That not only looks wonderful, but it smells that way as well.”

Elijah looked up from where he was expertly rolling the dough for tortillas, flashing a grin that took her breath away. His hair was messy and he looked handsome, relaxed. Happy.

“Siena.”

He said her name, and her heart melted and the butterflies in her stomach took off when it did a slow roll. Even her sex reacted to that soft, velvety reprimand.

“Did you doubt it?”

She leaned her chin into her hand, elbow propped on the counter, totally fascinated with this side of Elijah. She
loved
watching him. She knew she was devouring him with her stare, but she didn't care. Didn't care that he could see how
she felt right on her face. She knew he could because he looked happy. Not just happy, relaxed and happy.

“You keep looking at me and we won't be having dinner. We'll be eating, baby, but not this delicious food. Something else delicious.
Both
of us.”

“That sounds just fine for dessert, Elijah,” she replied, using her most demure voice. “I think this food needs to be eaten, as you spent such time and effort preparing it for us, and our baby even knows all about it. So we'll wait on the other and have a long, leisurely dessert.”

His eyes went dark mercury. Sensual. Hooded. He liked the idea of dessert. She decided a little teasing was in order. Her man liked food. He loved sex. The two joys were definitely not equal in his book. She waited until his tortillas had his full attention.

“Still, now that you've got me thinking about it, I do like the taste of you. A lot.”

His gaze jumped to her face. She flashed a dreamy smile. “Well, I do. A lot. You're hot and spicy and I kind of love rubbing my tongue up and down that delicious shaft of yours. Like an ice cream cone, but scorching hot. And then there's that little spot that if I rub just right . . .”

He groaned. “Woman, you're going to get yourself in trouble you keep going like that.”

She widened her eyes in innocence. “I'm just reliving the joys of your body belonging to me, Elijah. I think, when it's me that gets to possess that fine of a body, I should spend a little time thinking about it before I make hasty decisions.”

His grin was slow and sexy. “You need to eat food,
mi amorcito
. You don't eat nearly enough and you've got a baby inside you taking all your nutrients. You're going to eat. Dinner. After we'll think about other things.”

She sulked. Deliberately. Squirmed a little on the barstool. Deliberately. “You've got me thinking how delicious those other things are. Some people do eat dessert
before
dinner.”

His gaze flicked to her. “You're eating dinner first.”

She pouted. “Just saying.”

He turned back to his work. Stirred the spicy meat in the skillet. Checked the rice and tomatoes. The aroma honestly made her mouth water. She was hungry, no doubt about it. But that burn had been on her for a while now. Always with her. Craving him. Talking hadn't helped much; in fact, her banter had really made her squirm. It hadn't been altogether pretend.

“Honey.” She couldn't keep the need out of her voice. The hunger. “Maybe dessert's the best idea. So I can enjoy the food you prepared properly.”

His gaze slid over her again. Hot. Sensual. Her man was super hot. Super gorgeous and altogether sexy. She loved that she could put that look on his face. That he could stand in his kitchen, burden free, even if for a few minutes, intimately barefoot, hair wild, looking handsome and so very sexy. And so happy. She'd done that. She'd given him that.

“Dinner's ready, baby. How about you go on over to that table you set so beautifully and sit down and wait for your man to serve you.”

“You're really going to make me wait?”

“Food's hot. You don't eat enough. Settle, honey. I'll take care of you after. And I promise to be thorough about it.”

That just heightened the burn. She was supposed to be teasing him, and it seemed as though he was in complete control and she was the one out of control. She sent him one emotion-laden look that should have said
everything
to him, and she slipped from the barstool to walk to the table. She knew he was watching so she put a little extra sway in her walk. When she got to the high-backed, gleaming cherry-wood chair, she pulled it out and walked around it, as if studying it from every angle.

“What are you doing, Siena?” he asked, placing bowls of steaming food on the highly polished wood of the table. She was surprised to see he wasn't typical in that he put hot pads beneath each bowl.

“I'm considering the best way to sit without getting my skirt damp.” She caught the sides of the material and began to slowly bunch it into her hands. Inch by slow inch. Brought it from her ankles to her knees. “I really like this skirt and I don't have very many clothes that are a comfortable fit for me anymore.”

She drew the soft, silky material right up over her thighs. Watching him watch her. She saw the gathering lust there in his eyes. The hunger. She kept talking. Kept working the skirt up. She had a surprise for him. That had set the burn in her off. The thought of her surprise and the look on his face. She'd walked all the way from the bedroom, through the house, knowing he would love what she did. She'd taken her time in the bathroom, cleaning every inch of her.

Siena kept pulling up her skirt, letting the feel of the soft material against her thighs heighten her need. She knew the exact moment he saw her smooth, completely bare sex open to him, to his every touch, his tongue. His breath hitched in his lungs and his face went dark. Sensual.

“Turn the chair toward me.”

She did so and immediately sank down onto the seat of the chair because, really, the look in his eyes destroyed her ability to even stand.

“Open your thighs for me,” he ordered.

And it was an order. He wasn't fooling around. Or teasing. He was a hungry alpha male and she was his prey. Deliberately she moved her knees apart, but only a few inches. Just enough to give him a glimpse of her damp, pulsing flower.

“Slide your ass forward, right to the edge of the chair, lean back and widen your thighs, Siena.”

She
loved
that hard edge to his voice. Rough. Hungry. Demanding. A fresh flood of liquid heat pulsed deep. She obeyed him, leaning back and widening her thighs. At once, the cool air hit her and she swore steam rose. She dropped her hand to her thigh, sliding her fingers up the inside, needing to be touched.

“That's mine,” he said. And he said it softly. “Open the front of your camisole, baby, I want to see your hands on yourself, on those beautiful nipples. Don't go easy either. You like it rough. I want to see it rough. I want to hear you, all that music you make when I'm eating you.”

He opened the front of his jeans, allowing his cock freedom. Her heart jumped. Stuttered. Her mouth watered. He was beautiful. Large and thick and all hers. His fist surrounded the shaft in a casual, sexual way that sent more liquid heat pulsing through her core. She had gotten the idea to go bare because he was always clean of hair around his hard cock, and when she took him in her mouth it always felt so good.

He went to his knees on the floor, sliding his shoulders under her legs, pressing close, forcing her legs farther apart. Her heart pounded. She could barely breathe. She felt him there. Right there. His breath. The whisper of his mouth, yet he didn't move. Her brain slipped, going from thinking to chaos. To need. To hunger. To absolute lust.

“Elijah,” she pleaded.

“What did I tell you to do?”

She felt every word against her bare lips. She had never been so sensitive. Never. He was killing her. She brought up both hands—
shaking
—to the lace-up front of her camisole and slowly pulled the ribbons apart. The material immediately gaped open, and her breasts spilled out.

She looked down at herself, leaning back, sprawled out, legs around Elijah, his head between her thighs, her skirt around her hips and her bare breasts exposed over the top of the lacy material. She felt the rush sliding into her—over her—a mini-orgasm before he'd actually touched her.

“Cup your breasts for me,
mi vida
. Play with your nipples. Pinch them. Roll them. Hard.”

She gasped, but did as he instructed. Her nipples were extremely sensitive. The moment she touched herself, the moment her thumb and finger settled over the tight, hard
little buds, he swiped his tongue through her aching entrance and a sob escaped. It was so good.
So
good.

Once Elijah started, there was no his escaping his hands and mouth. He devoured her. Deep rumbling growls escaped whenever she squirmed and she was squirming, sobbing, pleading, hips bucking. It was impossible to stay still, not when he was so ravenous, not when he was in the mood he was in, his rasping tongue a weapon of destruction. Soul-destroying. So beautiful and so incredible, she could barely breathe.

He drove her up again and again. He knew how to use his mouth and tongue. His teeth. His fingers. He obviously enjoyed what he was doing. He went fast. He went slow. He savored her. She lost count of how many times the earth moved and her body went up in flames. Maybe it was all one very long, strong quake, maybe one orgasm rolled right into the next. She felt shattered. Blown to pieces. Floating. Screaming. Amazing. His. Thoroughly, totally his.

When he finally lifted his head, the strong shadow along his jaw gleaming with the liquid honey spilling from her body, she could barely stay in the chair. If it weren't for his strong shoulders, she just would have slid straight to the floor.

Watching her, he licked at his fingers and slowly stood. “You taste so fucking good, baby, better than any dessert I could whip up.”

“I want mine,” she said, forcing her body under control. “Right now, honey.” Her body still was rippling and pulsing from the strong, powerful tsunami he'd created. Her breasts ached. Her nipples were tight and hard, and every movement of her fingers continued to send streaks of fire straight to her spasming core.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and reached for his hips, dragging him closer. He let her, his eyes on her breasts spilling over her camisole.

“Fucking beautiful,” Elijah whispered. “Wild. My wild cat.”

She cupped his heavy sac in her palms, her fingers gently rolling the soft velvet. “I think you're beautiful, Elijah,” she
said, her eyes on his cock. It was full and hard and very erect. Pulsing. Pearl droplets spilled along the crown temptingly. “I love that you belong to me.”

Just the touch of her fingers and the look in her eyes, so hot and excited, so hungry, had his cock jerking hard. She licked over his balls, her tongue swirling little circles. He realized she was once again signing her name on him—on his heavy erection, this time with her tongue, and that was fucking hot. She licked up his shaft, all around the base, taking her time. Enjoying it. He could see the eagerness. The hunger. The craving. She was addicted to his cock and she didn't care that he saw that. She loved going down on him. Knowing she had all the power when she did.

He'd never had a woman give that to him. When she took him in her mouth, it was all about him. Every thought in her head was about pleasing him. Giving him pleasure. She couldn't wrap her fist completely around his shaft, and when she took him in her mouth, it was a tight fit. Still, she got him wet, really wet, and that tight fit felt like pure heaven.

Her hair was in a ponytail. He liked it down, but the ponytail gave him something to grip. And he needed something. She was working him. Using her mouth. Her tongue. That very talented tongue. All the while one hand continued to massage his balls while the other slid over his shaft with her mouth. Tight. Hot. Perfect. His brain began to shut down.

He stepped even closer, forcing her head back to tilt it up, using her hair to guide her, he began to use his hips, slow at first, pushing deeper into her mouth. No way could she take all of him, but she was willing to try and he loved her for that alone. He had gone from having nothing—no one—to being in his kitchen with the woman of his dreams, her mouth wrapped tight around his cock, her eyes on his face, watching his every expression, taking him as deep as she could because she loved him like that. Gave him that gift.

“Baby,” he breathed. Warning her.

She didn't stop. If anything she took him deeper, her
fingers moving from his balls to his hip, urging him to her. She suckled hard, hollowing her cheeks while her tongue danced and stroked him toward oblivion. Every single time she did that, every single time she gave him heaven, he felt a burn behind his eyes and his throat went raw. Worse, that fucking emotion, that love he had for her was so strong, so powerful, he knew he would do anything for her. Give up anything. He knew she could so easily be the weapon that would destroy him.