Shifter Scrooge, page 5
He’d walked them closer to the fireplace, and he suddenly had an image of her spread out on the carpet, completely naked, on all fours, and calling his name as he fucked her from behind. His Tiger growled at the image. The beast wanted that, too, and those warning bells sounded once more.
“Oh yeah, Trixie. That is all for you. When I first saw you, I knew you were hot, but I had no fucking clue how sexy you would be beneath that getup.”
Her blush was so damned adorable, and she wiggled, but Striker was not letting her go now. He dipped his head, sucking one plump nipple into his mouth and moaning as the taste of her burst across his tongue. She was sweeter than the cookies they’d baked together. Spicier too. And completely fucking addicting.
“Oh god,” she moaned, arching her back to grant him better access.
Striker growled, delighted with her headfirst response to his touch. Everything about her rang with the truth, and his beast reveled in the pleasure he brought her with his mouth. What else did the sexy little enigma what was Beatrix Gallo like? He wondered as he licked a trail to her navel, holding her up against the wall as he explored her soft curves.
“I’m too heavy,” she said, and tried to slide down, but Striker liked her right fucking there.
He growled and nipped her skin, rewarded when she moaned his name and tugged on his hair, pushing him closer to where he really wanted to go. He dropped to his knees, tugging the onesie down her body, lifting, and maneuvering her until it was all the way off.
“Fuck, Trixie, this thing is hotter than I imagined,” he growled, hands roaming over the naughty wisp of fabric barely concealing her sexy as fuck body.
He had her back up against the wall, her thick thighs draped across his shoulders, and he thanked the gods for whoever invented crotchless panties. Her glistening pussy was centimeters away and he could not wait to taste her heated arousal. Bea moaned helplessly as he nuzzled her thighs, kissing his way slowly to the close-cropped curls covering her sex.
“Wait,” she said, and he froze, his gaze flashing to her. Fuck. If she told him to stop, he would, even if he died from it.
“I, um, I just wanted you to know, I don’t normally do this kind of thing with strange men,” she stuttered, cheeks blushing prettily, she bit her lower lip and looked down at him.
“You mean, you don’t show up at cabins in the middle of the night to bake gingerbread men with strange guys wearing Christmas jammies with sexy lingerie beneath them? Good. I’m glad I’m the first,” he said, and really meant that last part.
“So am I,” she replied.
Truth. She was telling him the absolute truth, and that did it. That little bit of honesty cut through any reticence he might have had at taking the little human into his bed, er, make that floor, tonight.
Striker lost his cool, calm, collected façade. The rumbling growl building inside his chest spilled from his lips. He squeezed her thighs, tugging her closer and dove right in, staking his claim, and lapping at her sweet nectar right from the source.
Mine.
What? No. Listen up, Cat, we’re just having a bit of fun.
But that was all the arguing he did with himself. Striker couldn’t afford to lose focus. Bea was writing beneath him, flexing her delectable hips, and riding his face like he wanted her to. Emotions roiled through him like cars in a train wreck, each one slamming into the other, propelling him forward with unstoppable momentum.
“Striker!” she called his name, tugging his hair right before she exploded.
It wasn’t enough. He carried her to the carpet in front of the fireplace and stripped away the layers of clothing left between them. Her heated gaze met his and Striker knew no matter what happened in his miserable life, this right here was perfect, and it was his and nothing could take it from him. He paused, lust and guilt warring within him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, her hands reaching for him.
“I want you so damn much, but I have nothing to offer you. No future. Nothing more than my body. You get that right? I’m fucked up, Trixie, and you, you’re perfect.”
“I’m not asking for anything from you except this, Striker. Only this,” she whispered, and her voice wrapped around him like a seductive blanket.
He was putty in her hands. Well, if putty were hard as fucking nails, he was. Sexy ass woman was driving him mad. Bea gripped his cock with her small, soft hands and stroked him once, twice, fuck, she was lighting him on fire.
“Your thoughts are so loud. Just be here with me,” she whispered before claiming his lips in a kiss that chased all of those pesky voices away.
He warned her he wasn’t a good man. And this proved it. He had no business touching this sweet normal, but he was only human. Sorta.
Striker couldn’t stop now if he tried. He worked his way between her thick, soft legs, and flexed his hips, stroking her soaked pussy lips with his hard length. Fuck, she was so hot and wet. The feel of her sweet nectar coating him as he slid between her plump lips was pure heaven.
“More, please,” she begged, and he couldn’t deny her.
Not when he wanted it just as badly. Striker stroked his tongue into her mouth, tasting cinnamon and spices as he pushed his mushroomed head into her tight little entrance.
“Fuuuccck,” he growled.
Striker pressed inside, inch by inch, filling the tight space between her legs until he was buried to the hilt. It felt so damn pleasurable, it bordered on pain. His entire being seemed to feed off her need. The sweet, musky scent of her desire drove his beast wild.
She was so damn beautiful, eyes at half mast, the mossy green and gold colors churning with passion as she gazed at him. Her smile, though, that was the real killer. It was like a kick right to his chest. Striker growled then, he couldn’t contain it. His Tiger watched her possessively as he stroked her cheek, her neck, cupping the back of her head as he brought her closer so he could nuzzle her kiss-swollen lips.
Then he started moving, and all bets were off. He could not get enough of her. He pinned her wrists with one hand over her head and ran the other palm down over her neck and breasts, her belly, and hips, fuck yes, her ass. He squeezed her plump cheek and pumped his hips faster.
This woman was touching more than just his body, She was touching something he’d thought was long dead within him. His heart squeezed, his blood boiled, a burning sort of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Fuck, he needed her to come. He told her so, too, whispering dirty little things in her ear, telling her how fucking sexy she was and how good she felt squeezing his dick with her tight little channel.
“Come on, Trixie,” he grunted the nickname he’d adopted for her in the short time they’d spent together.
Bea was what everyone else called her, but Striker wanted something just for him. He was selfish like that. Just as he was for fucking her when he had nothing to offer her. Oh, she was a real troublemaker all right, his sweet and sexy Beatrix.
Sweet Trixie mine.
We can’t keep her, he told his beast even as he felt his orgasm begin to spiral.
We can, the beast insisted.
Striker shook his head, but Trixie had somehow gotten free of his hold, and she grabbed his face with both hands, her hazel eyes boring into his. Her mouth was open, and she panted along with him. He felt her sex tighten, her pussy quivering as he drove into her faster and harder.
“With me, Striker. With me,” she whimpered, and he knew what she was saying.
She wanted him to stay with her in the moment, and that sounded like the best fucking offer he’d ever had. He kissed her hard. Her gasp gave him the opening he needed. Pressing his hips tightly to her body, he ground himself against her, loving the feel of her pussy as it squeezed him just before he nudged them both over that cliff of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
Trixie screamed his name. Her nails piercing his shoulders as she came and came and came, and something primal inside him snapped right open. Striker growled with his beast, his fangs lengthening as he tipped her head to the side and struck her with his claiming mark right below her left ear.
“Oh god, yes, Striker!”
Sweet Trixie was coming again, and his beast roared inside his mind’s eye as his cock exploded inside her, coating her womb with his seed and marking her from the inside out. Fucking hell. The pleasure was so intense, Striker might have blacked out for a moment or two. Next thing he knew, he was blinking his eyes and Trixie was cradling him close, placing whisper soft kisses on his face and hair.
“Shit. Am I crushing you?” he grumbled, lifting himself off her without pulling out just yet.
He didn’t think he could, to be honest. It felt imperative he keep the connection, and one thump of his cock told him why. He was hard again, and being inside her was sweet heaven. Her eyes widened as she flexed her hips experimentally against him.
“I got you, sweet,” he whispered, kissing her softly as he turned them both to their sides.
The new position allowed him to slide even deeper, and her response was pure fucking magic. She was passionate, this woman.
My woman. Mate.
His eyes flicked to the mate mark he’d given her, and a pure possession filled him, at the same time he realized he had some explaining to do. He only hoped she would forgive him. Monster that he was, Striker had no right to claim a mate.
Trixie’s soft lips brushed against his, and Striker refocused on her. Bringing her pleasure was tantamount to any of his morose musings. He might be a bastard for doing what he did, but he would make sure she had some good memories of him before the end.
After who knew how many orgasms and sweetly whispered nothings, Trixie fell asleep cuddled against him in front of the fireplace. It was one of those gas models, so he didn’t even have to bother with wood, which was nice. He didn’t want to move. He felt deliciously tired and sated. In fact, Striker was awestruck.
Contentment wasn’t something he was used to. Neither was having a soft, warm woman melting against him with no qualms whatsoever. It amused him to no end that this baffling female who’d stormed into his life dressed as a Christmas Elf of all things had brought him both.
Maybe there was something to this season, after all. But no. Striker didn’t buy into all that holiday magic nonsense. Still, his sweet Trixie was a special gift. One he hadn’t been expecting.
“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her temple, and smoothing her hair out of her face.
Fuck, he loved the way her curls looked wild and untamed after he’d loved on her for more than half the night. She was a wild one, so giving and trusting with her smiles, her kisses, and her sumptuous body. He could take care of her like that, though.
Yes, Striker could do that much. The thought of what would happen afterwards had his heart stuttering inside his chest, but Striker closed his eyes against the wave of pain that struck him. A Shifter without his mate would go mad. At least, that was the rumor he’d heard.
Growing up without a Pride or any real Shifter role model, most of what he’d gleaned about his kind came after he’d reached adulthood. His brief stint with his father had likely done more harm than good, and Striker hadn’t bothered to ask that old bastard for anything. Not one thing.
But if what he heard was right, then his animal would miss his mate so damn much Striker would lose his control. Normally it would be his Alpha, or as Tiger Pride’s called their leader, his Neta, who would have to put him down. But as a rogue, he had no leader.
That was part of why he’d said yes to babysitting the cabin. If Striker had to choose a leader, it would be Keeton. The man had his six on more operations than he could count. He was a good male, and hate it as he might, Striker would have to burden him with this one last request. Looking at Trixie, so relaxed in slumber, he knew his beast would not like letting her go. But he had no choice.
Keeton will just have to end me sooner than I thought.
His Tiger roared at that. Loudly. Like he was trying to push the thought right out of Striker’s head with the sheer volume of his outrage. Try as the animal might, it was no good. He knew this thing with Trixie was temporary, and he supposed it was good that she was a human. She could move on with her life and forget about him in time. She could still have a future.
Without me.
And fuck him if that didn’t hurt like hell.
Chapter Six
Bea woke up with a yawn and stretched her tired limbs. Good heavens, was she sore! She grinned as the reason for her soreness came to mind and opened her eyes to search for the man himself.
Hmm. He must be outside.
She sat up gingerly, looking down as her hand brushed against a sheet of paper. Tingles danced up her spine as she read the note he’d left her.
Sweet Trixie,
I’m checking the perimeter of the cabin for any sign of trespassers on the property. It’s still snowing so stay indoors. Don’t get into any trouble or you’ll get a spanking.
-Striker
She sighed and clutched the note to her chest. No, it wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but last night had to have meant something to the big, sexy man. She giggled and wondered how she’d thought him a Scrooge when she first saw him frowning at her from the doorway.
“I’ll make a believer of you yet,” she murmured as she stood up and walked to the bathroom.
After taking care of the necessities and showering, Bea pulled on some soft leggings and a long-sleeved thermal shirt. Striker still wasn’t back yet, so she got to work preparing a pot of thick stew to simmer on the stove. Thank goodness she’d done some shopping before coming up to visit her cousin.
Bea figured she would soften her invasion of their holidays by bringing a huge piece of chuck beef and cookie stuffs. It was likely too much for the two of them to finish, then again, Keeton seemed to have an enormous appetite from what Bea recalled last time she’d seen Lena and family, and Striker was just as big, if not bigger than him.
The savory scents of vegetables, fresh beef, herbs, and red wine filled the cabin, and she closed her eyes and breathed it in, rubbing her tummy that was already growling despite the gingerbread man she just snarfed down. Bea had been all ready to clean the cookie mess they’d left in the kitchen last night, but Striker had seen to it. She grinned, silently thanking him for that and for leaving her a fresh pot of coffee.
Good man. Sexy man.
Her cheeks burned as she recalled all the delicious things they said and did to each other last night. Sex with him was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her entire life. Striker didn’t seem put out by her size, or demanding nature, not like some of her exes had been. It was like men thought because she wasn’t a supermodel, Bea had no right to a sex drive.
Well, news flash, she did have a libido. A big, raging, lusty, healthy one! And she was not going to apologize for it. Good thing Striker didn’t seem to have an issue with it. Her body heated just thinking of all the ways the big sexy, Scrooge made her explode in a rage of passion throughout the night. He was insatiable, and she’d loved every second of it.
It was like he couldn’t get enough of her, and Bea had never had that from a man before. She never thought she would. Something kindled inside her, and she closed her eyes on a softly whispered wish.
Please let this be real.
Oh, she knew what she promised him. That she wouldn’t be greedy. That she would be happy with whatever he could give. But Bea had done something immensely stupid. In opening her legs, she’d opened her heart, too. Bea had gone and fallen in love with a perfect stranger. The front door swung open just as she’d made that discovery, and she choked on her tepid coffee. Striker stomped his feet, shaking off snow on the rubber floor mat designed to protect the wood floors.
“Hey, you okay?” Striker asked, his gorgeous teal eyes zeroing in on her.
She was dumbstruck by his sheer masculine beauty and didn’t answer him until she saw his frown deepen. She nodded, offering him a thumbs up with one hand while she covered her mouth with the other. Bea turned and dumped her coffee in the sink, washing out the mug.
“It’s really snowing out there, huh?” she said too brightly.
But what else was she supposed to do? She’d gone and ruined the whole holiday fling idea by falling in love with the man, and now there he was, larger than life and taking up all the available space inside the rustic cabin.
“Hey, what’s got you so worked up?”
She shook her head, keeping her back to him. She couldn’t have formed complete sentences if she tried. Her whole body had lit up like a Roman candle the second he walked in. Her ovaries damn near exploded, and it was all she could do not to drop to her knees and ask him to fill her with like three dozen babies right then and there.
Shit. Oh shit. I really am in love.
Did it always happen that fast? She had to wonder, having never really been in love before. Oh, she’d been in lust. Heck, she’d even been in some serious like. But this was different. It was like her heart, body, and soul seemed to recognize him on some level that transcended time and space and rationale.
A Christmas miracle? Maybe. But he didn’t feel the same. He just couldn’t. Bea knew better than to make wishes on stars and expect them to come true. But here she was, in her cousin’s cabin, wishing like hell that Striker maybe loved her a little bit too.
“Come on now, Trixie the Troublemaker, talk to me,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said, noting his stiffening arms with a frown.
“Yep. It sure is,” he mumbled.
He stepped back then, leaving her cold. She sighed and looked down at the mug she’d washed four times now. Turning off the faucet, she turned to face him. The air felt thick and tense. Striker rubbed the back of his neck with one big hand, a sure sign of discomfort.
“Look, you don’t have to worry. I’m not reading anything into what happened last night. I mean, I remember what you said, and I know it didn’t mean anything to you. Or me. Ha! I mean, yeah, it was just some fun, right? Yeah, good fun, and um, well I don’t want you to feel awkward or like I’ve gone and done something stupid like fall in love with you or anything,” she blurted so fast, hoping he couldn’t hear the catch in her voice when she lied so damn terribly to him.
