Tuesday Teaser 3/10/15: Wolf’s Princess

Wolf’s Princess is not finished yet, but I am soooo close. The poor kitty’s sickness really derailed me. She seems to be fine now, but time will tell if the antibiotic (which I had horrible trouble getting into her) was effective. My goal is now to have it done on Saturday March 14, and hopefully have it sent out to the beta readers by March 23. After that I will be frantically cleaning and packing to move on Saturday March 28.

This will be the last Tuesday Teaser until the 2nd Tuesday in April. I had a request for something from Sky’s point of view. I think I might have posted this already, or parts of it. I hope you’re still able to enjoy it. 🙂

The sun wasn’t up yet when Sky woke. His left arm tingled with the pins-and-needles feeling that came from having lain on it too long, but he didn’t move, because his mate was still sleeping cuddled against him. Her cheek pressed to the hollow of his throat. Did her right arm tingle from having slept on it? Her left arm was draped over him, and his right arm was over her. He smiled. They must have slept face-to-face in an embrace. Waking up with her like this was the most wonderful thing he could imagine. The only thing better would be if she wasn’t wearing the cotton gown and he weren’t wearing these curst shorts.

Her breath tickled his throat and his body responded. Carefully, he eased his hips away from her. He didn’t want to. His body was screaming at him to press closer. His mind knew better. Rose wasn’t willing to accept even his kisses yet. Anything more would have her storming across the hall to the other room and slamming the door shut in his face.

She drew in a breath, eyes still closed, before rolling away from him onto her back. Her movement slid her breast neatly into his palm. He froze, not even breathing, just as her eyes shot open. She looked down where his brown hand cupped her breast, and then stared, wide-eyed, in his direction. Was it light enough for her to see him? He didn’t think so. His own eyes felt wide. He should move his hand. He should apologize. He should get up and run for the shower before she noticed how his cock reacted to the feel of her warm flesh beneath the cotton.

He did none of those things. Without any conscious direction from his brain, his hand cupped her more firmly. When his thumb stroked back and forth over her nipple she gasped. His gaze finally left her eyes to stare at her parted lips the way he would stare at a cool stream after being stranded without water for three days.

“I want to kiss you,” he said in voice that sounded too raw to belong to him.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“I don’t care.”

Her eyes slanted down again to her chest where he still held her breast, and then came back toward his face. “Okay.”

The whisper was so low he almost didn’t hear it. Or maybe he just didn’t quite believe it. He lunged up on one elbow to stare down at her. She licked her lips and reached a hand to the back of his neck. The pressure she exerted was so slight he barely felt it, but he knew an invitation when he saw one. There was an almost imperceptible tremble in the fingers of the hand he lifted from her breast to smooth over her cheek to her chin.

Don’t attack her like a ravenous beast, he ordered himself. Be gentle.

He tried. Kissing someone gently was unknown territory for him. Kissing at all was unknown territory. Except for his mother, Rose was the only woman he’d ever kissed, and the few kisses he’d given Rose were not the same sort he’d given his mother. He brushed his lips lightly over hers, inwardly shivering at the feel of her breath against his lips. He did it again, lingering to touch his tongue to her bottom lip.

He braced himself, snatching at self-control with fierce desperation. One minute he was barely touching her, and the next his tongue was sliding along hers in her mouth. It took every ounce of his discipline, but he kept the kiss gentle. Her fingertips left trails of fire as she ran them up and down his back, pausing to stroke his hair at the nape of his neck, and then digging them into the muscles of his shoulders. Control frayed. She wasn’t just submitting to his kiss; she was participating. Hell, encouraging him! His blood was molten lava, most of it heading for his cock. He could feel the soft mounds of her breasts pressing against his chest. God, he wanted her. When he kissed along her jaw to her throat he could feel her blood pounding under her delicate skin. Her scent was laced with the musky tang of arousal. Just knowing she was aroused too made his restraint unravel. The damn blanket was twisted around their legs, keeping him from rubbing his cock against her. He needed to feel her. He loved caressing her face and arms, but he wanted to feel that place between her legs.

With rough, impatient hands he tore the blanket away and tossed it aside. He paused to drink in the sight of her. The room wasn’t light, but with his wolf-born sight he could see every detail: The hem of her nightdress twisted up to her waist, the prim white cotton of her underpants hiding her secret place, her silky thighs not much darker than the underpants slightly parted, as if she were inviting him in. Holding his breath, he reached in awe to touch the cotton shielding her pussy. And let it out in a shocked, pained howl as razor-sharp claws sliced into his ankle.

“F*ck!” He saw twin beams of feline eyes glaring at him. “Damn cat!”

A sharp kick dislodged the creature. She leaped in an arc of bristling brown fur to the floor. The cat sounded like a full grown panther when she screamed defiance at him. When Rose shoved him off and scrambled over him to get out of bed, her knee landed like a sledgehammer in his groin. White hot agony shot through his entire body. His scream drowned the cat’s out. When Rose snapped the light on, he was curled around himself, dragging in breath through tightly clenched teeth.

“Poor Mitzi,” his mate crooned.

Poor Mitzi? Still huddled around his injury, he looked over his shoulder and saw his mate bent over the cursed cat. The sight of her nightgown riding up to show her long legs and generous ass did nothing to calm his temper. If it hadn’t been for the stupid cat, he would have had his hands exploring those curves.

He would kill it. As soon as he was capable of standing, he was going to grab that damn cat and wring its f*cking neck.