Coming Attractions (9 page)

Levi found himself lying in a bed.
Not his bed, he realized, nor any of the beds at Flinders’ Keep—after the last
few days, he was familiar with most of them. This bed was as soft as a cloud,
the bedding heavy and rose-scented. Lace from a throw pillow brushed his face.

Where was he?

He opened his eyes. Looked at the
nightstand. Three a.m. said a windup alarm clock with filigree hands, ticking
beside a porcelain bell decorated with violets.

Almost of its own volition, his
hand reached out to pick up the bell.

There was something odd about his
hand, he thought. It was seriously hairy. And his nails were long and thick and
kind of pointy.
Weird. But never mind.

He really needed to ring that bell.

The bell’s tinkle was loud in the
quiet, floral air. No traffic, he realized. Just some night birds and wind in
trees. He was immediately filled with expectation, but he wasn’t sure what he
was waiting for.

Then the rustic wooden door creaked
open and a woman who looked just like Cara walked in, all pretend coyness and
sassy sexuality.

“Red,” he said, shocked by the
growling roughness of his voice.

“You sound like you ate a gravel
sandwich, Grandma,” she quipped as she placed her vintage leather doctor’s bag
on the needlepoint chair just inside the door.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a
basket?” he asked.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You really have to
get with the times,” she admonished. “My outfit, for example.”

He sat up then, bed springs
creaking, and stared at her.

The hooded cape was red all right,
but it was glitter fur liked she’d skinned a Muppet. It barely skimmed her
crotch, revealing long bare legs ending in frilly anklets and red stilettos
with little bows on the toes.
Nothing
little girlie about that get-up.

“My, what big eyes you have,
Grandma,” she laughed, and twirled cheekily. He swore he caught a glimpse of
her curvy ass.

“All the better to gobble you up,”
he said, licking his lips and imagining running his tongue around her legs at
the hem of that skimpy cape. Maybe trailing his fingers behind his mouth and
sliding them upwards to discover…

“You really have to work on your
lines,” she laughed again.

But as though she could hear his
curiosity, she untied the red ribbon closure of the furry garment and slipped
it off, draping it casually over the arm of the chair.

An expletive burst from his mouth.
She was the stuff of his wildest fantasies. Red lace boy shorts and a matching
lace bra. With the socks and shoes…and the long bare legs…and the slightly
curved belly…and the dark valley between her perfect, delicious breasts…and…

He actually drooled, then and had
to wipe his fuzzy chest.
Really need to
see about a wax…

He was hard straight away, his cock
feeling bloated to bursting already. He glanced down, his eyes practically
bugging out of his head like a cartoon character. He was enormous! And kind
of…furry? In fact, his legs on either side of his mammoth manhood were looking
decidedly strange—overly muscular, covered in grayish fur and ending in…paws?

He might have given the odd state
of his body more thought, but his gigantic dick was demanding his full
attention and Red was rummaging in her doctor’s bag, waving that lace-covered
tush in the air.

He swung his legs over the side of
the bed. He could smell her sex, taste her hunger in the air. No need to wait,
he thought. He was huge and solid and wild—and she wanted it. He could take
her, now! He crouched at the bedside, preparing to spring at her. His mouth
watered. All he could think about was ripping off those teasing red panties and
plunging his hard animal cock into her.

At that moment, she looked up and
tilted her head to the side, shaking it in reproval and wagging her index
finger in his direction.

“Now, now, Grandma. You’ve always
told me to wait until a treat is offered before you take it, and now you’re
forgetting yourself. I will have to punish you.”

Levi hung his head, his ears
wilted, his tail—
his tail?—
drooped.
But his mouth revealed a tiny smirk and his heartbeat tap danced his
excitement.
She was going to punish him!

The collar was red and studded with
spikes. Her hands gently fastened it around his neck. The touch of her fingers
was charged and thrilling. The leash was a heavy metal chain and she clasped it
to the collar. Finally, she gestured that he should return to the bed and lie
on his back, where she affixed the chain to the headboard and stepped back to
admire her handiwork.

If he was hard before, he was
freaking cement—titanium!—now. She was so self-assured and yet so sensual. He
wanted her. Badly. But she was out of reach and he was chained to the bed.
Torture—but delicious torture.

She gave a nod of satisfaction and
then proceeded to seek more satisfaction, it seemed, running her fingertips
over her satiny body, smoothing them under the edge of her bra to titillate her
nipples, slithering them around the legs of her teensy lace shorts. Meeting his
eyes with sultry haughtiness. Leaving him panting and ravenous.

Slowly, deliberately, she slid her
fingers beneath the boy leg, shifting it to the side so he glimpsed her plump
folds and trimmed hair. She was flushed and swollen down there, he thought.
Perfectly primed to take his colossal cock. As though to punctuate his thought,
she pushed an index finger deep inside herself and, closed her eyes, and tilted
her head back as her body engulfed it.

He thought he might come just
watching her.

Then she withdrew the glistening
digit and extended it to him. The scent of her center almost undid him. She
stepped closer and rubbed her moist finger over his lips. The honey taste of
her was unbearably strong and sweet. He growled his impatience. He wondered if
he lunged at her whether the bed would give.

“What’s the matter, big boy? Can’t
take your medicine?”

But she must have taken pity on
him, for she moved toward him. When he reached for her, she swatted his hands
away. Still and prone, he waited impatiently for her to climb onto the squishy
bed and position herself between his legs. The blow job was the best thing he’d
ever felt. She was painstaking and persistent, patiently licking and sucking
every inch of him—and there were a lot of inches—taking him deep into her
throat and lapping the sensitive tip. She lured him closer and closer to the
edge of climax, then backed off fast, leaving him gasping and groaning.

Just when he thought he could take
no more, that he would have to assert his will and demand that she satiate him,
she surprised him by changing tacks. She indicated he should turn and position
himself on his knees.

Shakily, he obliged, watching her
in all her commanding, steamy glory. Did she know how perilously close she was
to being taken? She winked at him. She knew, all right. And, though it hardly
seemed possible, her knowledge aroused him further.

With her hands on him, she arranged
him in the posture she wanted him in. A moment later, she lay on her back, slithered
between his legs, and went to work on his swollen balls from beneath him,
licking and nipping and sucking each plump globe hard into her mouth.

His dick ached with need, his
juices were seeping out and running down his shaft like desperate tears. He
needed her, he wanted her,
he had to have
her
.

Maybe she sensed his urgency, maybe
she felt his control slipping, but a second later, she shimmied up from where
he straddled her, levering herself up his body with her hands on his shoulders.
Pressed against him, she plonked a quick kiss on his lips. He could taste the
musk and fire of his loins on her sweet, pliable mouth.

“Red…” he warned, the need to
explode only moments away.

But she was already unhooking the
leash from the headboard, so he was chained but not bound.

He met her eyes then. His control
was more tenuous than he thought possible. He wanted her so keenly that he was
shaking with the effort not to cross the line between man and beast. For the
beast would have no thought for her, no care, no patience. The beast would
simply take what was his, hard and fast. The beast would fuck her like an
animal.

She blinked her agreement and
smiled her consent. He waited one beat, two, just to be sure. She was still
smiling, promising, encouraging.

He could stand it no longer. He
hauled her ass against his crotch, positioned his throbbing rod against her
opening, pushed her head roughly down against the pillows. Her sex was deeply
hued, engorged, and dripping. He stared at it for a moment, barely able to
breathe. He had never felt so stimulated, so excited as he did in this moment.
And her desire matched his. She was more than ready for him. She wanted him as
much as he wanted her.

“Please…” she whispered, and he
needed no further invitation.

He pushed his cock into her tight
channel in one smooth stroke. She was impossibly hot, silky, and constricted
and he almost lost his load with that first motion. He paused. She started to
move. He held her head down against the bedding by her golden hair, stilling
her.

Slowly, gradually, he began to rock
against her. The sensation was glorious, divine! Squeezing wet heat, rough
breath, the slap of skin on skin, primal sounds of pleasure…

“More…” she begged.

He could hold off no longer. He
rammed his stiff, throbbing penis hard into her core, over and over until the
pressure of his restraint actually hurt. Nothing had ever felt this good or
this bad. He hadn’t even known he could feel so worked up. On a scale of one to
ten, his pleasure factor was off the charts and his entire being shrieked for
respite.

“Please…” she said. “Fuck me.”

And he did—pounding mindlessly into
her until, seconds later, buried deep inside her, he roared his release, his
lust and relief and amazement all bundled into the raw, visceral sound…

His own shout woke him. Levi came
back to himself breathless and drenched with sweat in the faerie glade room.
His heart hammered, his extremities tingled, and for a moment, his mind could
not make sense of the morning. Though he scrambled to hold on to it, the dream
was dissipating fast. Red fur, red lace, red leather… But then it was gone and
he was left drained, depleted, and alone.

****

The morning dawned watery and gray,
the weather as washed out and dreary as Levi felt. There was no sign of the
rain easing, no chance of the road clearing. And no hope, it seemed, of finding
middle ground with a certain tempestuous writer. So, he was cranky. And horny.

It didn’t help that even tired and
rumpled she looked like some sort of morning angel, he thought as she brewed
tea and coffee and turned only slightly singed hotcakes onto a pair of plates.
Her hair caught the pale light drifting in through the window and her curls
haloed her face, accentuating those sapphire eyes he couldn’t get enough of.

She moved like a dancer, he thought
as she carried their breakfasts to the table. All long-limbed grace and
economical elegance. He loved her poise, her balance, her classy walk and the
comely tilt of her head. He loved watching her eat, the way her lips caressed
each morsel, the lap of her tongue at the corner of her mouth, the flutter of
her eyelashes as she savored each bite.

She ate liked she loved, he realized.
Thoughtfully. Intently. Wholeheartedly.

And therein lay the problem. How
could he stay mad at her, let alone force his will upon her, when all he could
think about was how he wanted to thoughtfully, intently, and wholeheartedly
ravish the living daylights out of her?

“Looks like we’re stuck here
together for a bit longer,” he said, wondering how he was going to deal with
being cooped up in this house with her. If only he hadn’t brought up the
subject of the changes to the script, maybe they could have just boinked their
way happily through the flood and dealt with the serious issues later. Maybe he
could have appointed Otto to do his dirty work and discuss the script with her.
Or Candy, his faithful assistant, currently working on his personal pet project—she
was good with people. Hell, even if he’d broached the topic a little more
gently, he thought, perhaps there would be some way to convince her to ease the
ache of the permanent hard-on he’d had since he first laid eyes on her—and get
the movie on track, too.

Damn it, he had to give the
conversational nightmare a decent shot. And he had to do it now.

Her next words smoothed the way.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said
last night…” she began.

“No. You were right. Spot on, in
fact. I do care about money. It motivates me. But it doesn’t drive me in and of
itself.” Levi chose his next words carefully. “I need to be up front with you,
Cara.”

She clearly sensed the somberness
in his tone, read the seriousness in his body language, and he saw her shift
from uneasy calm to hyper-readiness in a heartbeat. She put her fork down and
straightened her spine, met his eyes with an unwavering gaze. God, she was tough,
he thought. And that was the sexiest thing about her.