Leopard's Rage (Leopard People 12)

“I don’t actually see you those four times, Sevastyan,” Flambé pointed out. “You strip me, pick me up, put me on the desk, devour me and leave. Or have me strip, and you bend me over the desk and fuck my brains out, or take me against the wall or on the floor, but then you leave immediately.”

He refrained from smiling. She didn’t have the least bit of complaint in her voice, although if one took her words, they might think she was complaining. Once, when he called her into his office, which was three times larger than hers, to ask her to go over her schedule with him, he’d gotten a phone call. She had crawled under his desk, unzipped his jeans and sucked him dry. His little Flambé loved sex. He had considered keeping her under that desk with a variety of different ties. He didn’t want anyone to come in and find her that way. Their rope work was between them, an intimacy created between the two of them.

She ducked her head and he felt her tongue on the inside of his thighs. It took every bit of discipline he had not to jerk his body. As it was, his muscles reacted, fingers of desire snaking up toward his groin in spite of the explosive release he’d just had. She wrapped her arms around his legs and began to use her tongue in the way of the shifters. They were an oral species, and Flambé was extremely sensual in everything she did with him. She took her time, paying close attention to his body, to every part of him, making certain there wasn’t a spot on him she missed.

It was both heaven and hell to feel the rasp of her velvet tongue sliding over his balls and cock, that glide and then the way she took him in her mouth and sucked to make certain he was clean. He wanted to start all over again, but damn it, he was out of time. He caught her hair in his fist and pulled her head off of him, wanting to roar with rage that his time wasn’t his own.

“Get dressed before someone comes in, Flambé.”

Her gaze darted to the door. “Didn’t you lock it?” Anxiety crept into her eyes.

He pulled her to her feet. “I’m teasing you, malen’koye plamya. I’m slipping out. Lock the door behind me and clean up. I’m not certain what time I’ll be able to make it home tonight.”

“Do you want me to take the car and you catch a ride with someone? Or do you want me to find a ride?” She followed him to the door.

He didn’t want her going home without him. It wasn’t that he thought there was any immediate danger. He had eyes on Rolan and the man was at present in Houston. As for Matherson, Sevastyan planned on paying him a visit. The shifter didn’t want to lose any more of his leopards. He wasn’t about to make a move against the Amurovs, especially on their property. He hadn’t been able to draw him back to the property or convince him to come after Sevastyan either, no matter how much he’d taunted the coward.

He didn’t believe that Matherson would find another woman he thought was easier prey either, as Mitya had suggested several times. There was something very special about Flambé and once you were close to her—and Matherson had been on many occasions—it was difficult not to fall under her spell. That brought him up short. She liked sex. Was it possible she’d had sex with him, a one-night stand before she realized what kind of man he was? He doubted too many men or any shifters would be satisfied with only one night of sex with Flambé. How the hell was he going to ask her a question like that without getting her riled up? She seemed a little moody lately, especially when she was at his cousin’s home. Still, he felt he had to know.

“Babe, did you ever hook up with Matherson? Even for a couple of hours?” He just came out with it.

She went very still, the smile fading from her face. Hell. He knew that was going to happen. He didn’t change expressions.

“You know what, Sevastyan? I don’t want to have this conversation with you. I watched you hook up with several women in that club. I know there had to be so many more. There were, weren’t there?” Her eyes glittered like twin emeralds, no amber in them whatsoever.

“Yes. That’s beside the point. I need to know about you and Matherson.”

“You don’t need to know about me and anyone else. I didn’t ask you about your life before me and I don’t expect you to ask about my life before you.”

She turned away from him, tossing her wild head of red hair, so much of it, like a crimson mane of fireworks. His leopard roared, raking at him. That volcano inside of him threatened to erupt. He wanted to leap after her, take her to the floor and pound into her with his suddenly engorged cock, but there was a whisper of unease in his mind.

A pattern was developing here, one he so easily could get into. They both were extremely sexual. He was very dominant and she played into that so easily. Was she deliberately provoking him? Provoking his leopard? He was always honest with himself. It would be easy enough to do. She was everything he could possibly want and sex with her was explosive. Unbelievable.

He asked questions of her and the next thing they were having sex—wild, uninhibited sex—not having a conversation. He took a deep breath for control. He had years of discipline. Years of experience. He had to stop reacting with his body and his dominant personality and start figuring out his woman and what exactly she was hiding. If they continued making their relationship all about sex and not about the two of them, they weren’t going to get anywhere.

“Flambé, you misunderstood me. I should have explained what I meant.” He turned, closed and locked the door. She stood by her desk, turning back to him, her expression wary.

“I would never question you about past lovers out of jealousy, not that I’m not capable of that very unattractive emotion. I’m a possessive man and not into sharing.”

“Those women at the club had other men.”

He shrugged. “Those men were their partners. In their relationships, they wanted or needed things someone outside their relationship could provide. The male liked to watch and his female liked to be tied and fucked by someone else. I needed release and to be able to practice my art. My leopard wanted to kill anyone I touched. It was the best solution in order to get what I needed and keep everyone safe. I don’t want any other man touching you. I thought I made that clear to you. I don’t want you touching any other man. I have no intention of being with another woman. My leopard wants only your leopard. We’re exclusive in this relationship. I would hope that you feel the same way.”

He watched her face, her eyes, the entire time, needing to see, to read her expression. He wanted Shturm to be alert. Did she love and need sex so much that he wasn’t enough for her? Was that what was putting that niggling doubt that had been so slowly growing in his mind? Was that what was making his leopard restless? He couldn’t believe that he was even entertaining the idea.

Relief crept into her eyes. Relaxed the tension in her face. She didn’t want another partner. That helped with the knots in his gut, but there was something elusive about her, something he wasn’t quite getting.

“Matherson seems to have a pattern, malen’koye plamya. He left his lair when the elders ran him off because, even though with his money he could have hired an army of mercenary shifters to take one of the women and run with her, it was too dangerous. Too much trouble. He goes hunting for easier prey.”

She frowned and shook her head, resting one hand on her desk, leaning her weight on her palm and one hip. That small shift in her stance gave him an intriguing view of her body, pushing her bare breasts and one rounded hip forward so that he could just glimpse the fiery curls covering her mound. His body tightened the way it always did when he looked at her. Hot blood roiled in his balls and pounded through his cock. He forced himself to stay in complete control, refusing to react, even though her nipples stood out in stark relief, tempting,

enticing him to stop all conversation and just go to her.

“It isn’t exactly easy to find women shifters, Sevastyan, as you well know. Most of those people in that club aren’t shifters. Cain may own it and he may be a shifter, but the vast majority of his clients are just regular humans. Even going to the rain forests or Africa won’t guarantee Franco finding a female shifter.”

“That’s true, but he found a few. Unfortunately, while he was looking, he got a taste for hunting. We’re all leopard, Flambé, never forget that. We aren’t human. We may look civilized, but we aren’t. Some may be more than others, but the bottom line is, we’re leopard and we’re predators.”

He could see the goose bumps rise on her skin. The heat in her eyes. Her body responded in spite of her determination not to at his declaration. She was a female leopard and there was no doubt that she was wired to find the male who could see to the survival of her children. She might not want to have that trait, but she did. Like him, she was very strong in many of her leopard’s attributes.