It’s less crazy of a concept than kidnapping someone.
“You don’t have to commit to it. It’s silly and wild, I know. I shouldn’t have even said that.”
“No! I’ll definitely think about it.” I don’t want Lark to think I’m anything but grateful for her desire to help. And for her willingness to come here and just get to know me.
Like I’m someoneworthgetting to know.
Ella rubs her fingers over Pumpkin’s hind end. He loves that spot. Some cats don’t, but he’s arump up in the airtype of guy all day, every day.
“The thing about loving rough men is that even if we’re quiet or unassuming, or if we don’t rock the typical biker chick vibe, we’re strong as fuck where it counts. We would be strong for you, babe. If that’s something you think you might like to take on, in one form or other, you can just let us know and we’ll make it happen.”
The last thing I wanted to do was cry, but the tears come faster than I can stop them. I brush them away quickly, before Pumpkin can notice and get upset. He’s sensitive like that. He can sense a mood change, and he knows when I’m sad.
“My gosh. Thank you both so much. These are happy, slightly overwhelmed tears, I promise.”
Through the haze, I spot Sprite edging out from the same place Pumpkin was hiding. He’s so fuzzy and such anorangeboy, but she’s a lilac point Siamese. She has a completely different attitude than Pumpkin. While he’s easy going, she’s far more persnickety. She likes what she likes, and she doesn’t what she doesn’t. She’s a little fur baby princess.
“Ahh, what a beautiful kitty!” Ella already has Pumpkin on her lap, which probably prompted Sprite to come out. She gets jealous if he’s getting attention and she’s not.
Lark rubs her fingers together and does thepstpstpstthat no cat can resist.
Sprite slinks up. She eyes the strangers warily and blinks her huge blue eyes up at me as if to say that she’s had enough for a day. She lets me pick her up anyway, and as soon as I get her on my lap, she relaxes and starts purring. Her motor is soft and virtually silent, but I can feel it vibrating through my thighs.
“We’re here for you anytime.” Lark picks up where I left the conversation off when I started tearing up.
“We’ll leave our numbers, and the clubhouse too. You can always call there, for anything. It doesn’t even have to be an emergency.”
Ella strokes Pumpkin along his ears and down his chin. He leans into her hand and even starts drooling a little. “You can just let Maverick or Scythe know when you’re up to having more visitors. There are so many of us now that you could have someone here pretty much whenever you want. You won’t be bored, that’s for sure.”
In a fit of passion, Sprite climbs up and puts her paws on my shoulder. She nuzzles the side of my face, rubbing her cold wet nose against my cheek. “I’d really love that. More thananything, actually.” I can barely see Lark or Ella over my full face of cat, but I’m sure they can hear the sincerity in my voice.
When they respond, Iknowthey’ve heard me. “We’ll absolutely make it happen,” Lark promises.
“Welcome to the sisterhood,” Ella says, then laughs as Pumpkin headbutts her on the chin.
I’m so glad that I can hide my tears of happiness while I pet Sprite, but as soon as I have them under control and I’m not so overwhelmed that I can’t manage a smile, I treat both women to one of the biggest ones I can ever remember smiling.
Chapter 10
Maverick
Scythe thought that it would be best for me to sleep upstairs rather than intrude on Loreena’s space in the basement. I sacrificed my right to a bed when I kidnapped her. I don’t know if it was more punishment or a sense of honor and propriety that drove Scythe to do it, but whatever it is, he didn’t ask Loreena what she wanted. He just assumed that she wanted to be alone.
Assumed wrongly, because unless Scythe suddenly shrunk and grew soft skin and divine curves in the past few hours, that’s Loreena I can feel crawling onto the scrap of couch behind me, hugging herself in close.
“Is this okay? Friend spooning?”
It’s okay because mercifully, my dick is facing the other direction. I’m not trying to be a creep, but biology comes on strong when you’ve been celibate for so long. Thankfully, it’s only drilling into the couch. Her hands are tucked in against my back. My whole body tenses, hoping she’ll leave them there while simultaneously wishing with everything that I have that she won’t.
“You can’t sleep?” It seems like the safest question by far.
“Not really. Can you?”
“Not really.”
“It’s because you’re like a jumbo hot dog stuffed into a pretzel stick on this couch.”
The undignified choking sound I make is loud in the quiet house. I don’t want to think about hot dogs, or how hard my cock is, or anything metaphorically or literally called a wiener, because that only makes me think about how warm she is, how soft her curves are, her breasts pressed against my back, the curve of her legs fit rightly around mine, her hips crushing up against my ass.
