Smiling to himself, Cameron rocked his hips again, rubbing his erection against Franklin’s arse in offering.“Last chance, darling.If this is what you want, you have to say it.Lions don’t screw unwilling men.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”Cameron pushed.
“Yes, I’d like that,” Franklin bit out.“That’s what I want.”
Cameron snarled his pleasure as he jerked Franklin away from the door and dragged him unceremoniously across the room.One push had him face down on the bed.
Cameron watched Franklin scramble to push himself up onto his hands and knees, much the same way a much smaller breed of cat might toy with a mouse.But, when Franklin tried to straighten up further, Cameron put his hand on his back, refusing him permission to do that.
Franklin glanced over his shoulder at him.He didn’t appear altogether unenthusiastic about the position he was in, but he certainly looked as confused as hell about how he’d ended up there.
Cameron’s claws immediately fought to be freed from his human form.
The guy probably had no idea what it was like to hit the sheets with anyone who wasn’t so in awe of his cheque book that they’d do anything and everything he wanted, without a single word of complaint.
Well, it was time he learned—time all the guys who turned up in the clubs to watch other men dance and pay them for more than their stage skills—learned better than to treat someone like that.
Anger raced through Cameron, hard and fast, as memories threatened to overtake him.He shoved Franklin forward, and he remembered all the times he’d been pushed around that way.The sound of tearing fabric filled the air as Cameron’s claws caught against Franklin’s shirt, and the fabric tore under his touch.
Flat against the mattress once more, Franklin tried to look over his shoulder again.“Have you lost your mind, or—?”
Before he had time to say another word, Cameron was on the bed with him, covering Franklin’s prone body with his own and pinning him down against the blankets.“Problem?”he snarled.
Franklin’s back arched as he seemed to instinctively try to press his arse back against Cameron’s crotch.
“My shirt—”
“If you want me, you’ll take me, my manners, and my claws, all as you find them,” Cameron bit out.“How important is your shirt to you?”
Franklin remained completely motionless, his head turned to one side, his cheek resting on the blanket, as he seemed to think that question through very carefully.That was the businessman in him.They were always the same, working out the angles, trying to decide what their next move should be, how they could best screw the entire world out of every penny it had, just so they could use that money to rent boys by the hour.
A roar built in the back of Cameron’s throat as he stared down at Franklin’s profile.
Franklin’s eyes fell closed, and Cameron stopped short.No roar hit the air.
The look on Franklin’s face, his scent, the way his body moved against Cameron’s, everything about Franklin called to more than Cameron’s anger with the world.
As much as he wanted to cling to his fury, he also longed to reach out, slide his fingers past the torn shirt and gently stroke the skin he’d bared with his claws.Something inside him was desperate to praise the way Franklin leaned into his touch and—
Cameron shook his head, pushing aside ideas that made no sense, that had no place in the world as he’d learned it really was.
“Please?”
Franklin blinked open his eyes, but he didn’t try to look up from the bedspread.
If he could have kept the word back, he obviously would have, but the submission in the rasped-out word was unmistakable.
Straightening up, Cameron kept his knees on either side of Franklin’s legs, so he was still holding him down with his body weight.From this new position, Franklin’s upper body was completely accessible.
Within seconds, Cameron had laid waste to the remains of Franklin’s ruined shirt.The few tattered remnants of cotton did little to hide any of the skin it had been intended to cover.
He was all flawlessly tanned skin and gym-honed lines of muscle.Cameron ran his fingertips across Franklin’s back.The only thing he’d torn was the shirt; the flesh beneath it was unmarked, unharmed.
Franklin moved then, putting his palms down on the bed to either side of him.He pushed slightly, as if trying to press himself up from the mattress and into Cameron’s caress.
Cameron studied him carefully.It had been so long since he’d been with a man who wasn’t paying him.He’d almost forgotten how to act when he was with a man he felt something other than complete hatred for.But, against all logic, in that moment, he didn’t hate Franklin.
