“You are so weird, did you know that?” I started to say.
Glancing up, the look he gave me said he was trying to be serious here and he’d like my cooperation.
“Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs,” I grumbled under my breath. Crossing my arms over my chest, staring at the wall mutinously, I grunted but didn’t move when he tapped my leg, indicating he wanted my other foot. He did it again, looking ready to spout his spiel, so I grumbled something unkind under my breath about pushy ass hats but dropped the first one to the floor to lift the next one like he’d wanted.
Once that was finished, he looked so pleased with himself I had to wonder if he’d hit his head rolling around out back earlier.
“Seriously, are you okay?”
My question was met with a short nod.
“We go again,” he rumbled out softly.
Scrubbing at my face, wondering what I’d done to deserve this— I mean, had I not been bemoaning the loss of these nutjobs?— I sighed heavily and dropped my hand. “We go again. What next? You wanna play hide the box? Should I close my eyes while you look for another hiding place?” Thinking about that time Birch hid so well none of us could find him and we gave up, for him to come stomping up to us hours later pissed off we’d stopped looking, my lips twitched at the silly memory.
A happy, rumbling noise left Cy. He had a look on his face that made me think he was thinking about that time as well. “Did you ever find out where he was hiding?” I asked.
Cy shook his head. His smile slipped free then.
“We go again,” he murmured, his voice low, sure.
He waited for me to nod before stepping closer. Cupping my face, he offered me a moment to pull away before leaning in and pressing his mouth to mine. He was gentle at first, quickly deepening our liplock when I kissed him back.
By the time we were forced to come up for air, my hands were in his hair, gripping it tight, one of his hands was on my ass, cupping a handful possessively, his other hand sliding under my shirt to smooth over my back.
“I should tell you- I mean, I don’t know what Elm already told you- Uhm- But, uh, we, you know, we slept together. I mean, he kinda freaked out afterward, told me he didn’t mean to and then took off, but, uh, yeah, we were, uhm, intimate with each other. We did it.” I wanted to be honest with him, make surehe knew everything up front. I didn’t want him to feel like I’d deceived him or something.
Cy pulled back to study me. “‘Kay? Elm not hurt Pru?” Leaning in, he started to sniff about me, like he had some kind of super snoot.
“Whoa- Hey- Look, I’m fine.” Physically. “He didn’t hurt me.” Not in any way that one could see unless the bite marks on my shoulder counted. I did not count them.
The hand at my back smoothed upwards, then unerringly moved right over my bitten shoulder. I winced as it grazed the puncture marks and whatever I was going to say was lost to the hiss that slipped free unbidden.
I should get some antibiotic cream on that bad boy. Soaping it up was probably not enough.
Cy tugged my oversized sleep shirt that clearly stated one must respect my authority across the front of it to the side, ignoring my warnings not to stretch it out. Eyeing the bite marks on my shoulder, he leaned in as I started to explain I’d cleaned it really well, it was a consensual action, lest he get any kind of wrong ideas. My words garbled the second he kissed the spot, then ran his tongue over it like he thought he was some kind of cat cleaning it.
My body tensed up. Heat began to course through me like wild fire, and I sucked in a sharp, shocked breath. He did it again and I cried out, shivering and trembling in his arms, and all he’d done was lick the wound. My hands tightened in his hair, the snarl he let loose as he kept it up telling me I could pull his hair any time I liked.
In that moment, I’d ceased to think and just felt. Cy’s arms wrapped around me. I was trapped but loving every minute of it. One hand slid lower to cup my ass and heft me up. A second later that same hand was slipping inside the back of my pajama bottoms and he was urging me to wrap my legs around hiswaist. A happy rumble left him as his fingers skimmed my bare backside. I wasn’t a fan of wearing underwear to bed and that’s exactly what I was dressed for.
“Mine,” he muttered as he began peppering nipping kisses along my flesh, teasing his way up my throat.
“Prove it,” I egged him on as I released his hair to grab handfuls of the plain black hoodie he’d traded his flannel in for before rebreaking into my home.
My fingers met smooth skin and the softest swath of fur.
Cy growled challengingly at my words. Abandoning my throat, he took my lips in a fierce, fiery kiss. There was a possessive quality to it that I wanted to test out but I was enjoying myself too much to question it.
I should be stopping this. It was nuts, what we’re doing. That part of my brain was on the fritz whenever he touched me. One kiss and I felt like I’d go mad without another. He was my own personal catnip. I felt drugged with it— addicted— like I’d never get enough and I’d die if I didn’t get some right now.
Breaking our liplock just as fast, he pressed me up against the wall, leaned back with my legs still wrapped around him, and tore off his hoodie, then the Clint Black shirt he had on beneath it, and then he was right back with me.
“What about me?” I mumbled against his lips as they quickly found mine.
Without breaking our liplock, he mumbled right against my mouth, “Don’t want my Pru get cold.”
We looked ridiculous, which made me laugh trying to picture it.
