The Wallflower
Page 10
It was Max’s turn to open his mouth and have nothing come out.
Emma lifted her hand to the waiter. “Check, please.”
“I’m not gay.” Max stalked to the Durango, trying to decide if he was insulted or not.
Emma shrugged carelessly. “Bi then.”
“Emma!”
He was forced to stop when she collapsed against the side of the car, giggling like a schoolgirl. The only
thing she managed to gasp in between bouts of giggling was, “Oh, God, the look on your face!”
Max shook his head, wondering, knowing she had no idea how few people dared tease him. How the hell had he missed this woman all those years ago? He could have dated Emma back then instead of Livia. He’d have had Emma all these years, laughing at him, teasing him, driving him insane. The thought of his own blindness where she was concerned made him grit his teeth in frustration.
No more. Never again would he allow himself to do without Emma.
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the car door and waited for her to stop laughing. “You finished?” he asked indulgently, his heart beating a strange tattoo at the sound of her laughter.
She wiped the tears away with a final giggle. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.” With a swiftness only another Puma could match, Max snatched her close, bent down and kissed her. She barely had time to gasp.
That small gasp of surprise gave him immediate access to her mouth. He stroked inside her, slow and deep, just like he wanted to take her. He savored her taste, wine, chocolate and woman, and his head reeled. When her lips finally began to move against his, he moaned, his cock twitching like she was stroking him there with her wet heat. Her tongue dueled with his with a shyness that once again brought out his protective instincts. Without thought, he turned her so that her back rested against the Durango, his broad shoulders and back hiding her from the view of those in the restaurant.
No one but him would ever get to see her passion again.
He wanted to open the door, lay her down on the seat, and strip her naked. He wanted to be sheathed so far in her body she’d be able to taste him in the back of her throat. He wanted to mark her with his scent, his seed, and his teeth so badly he shook with it.
But they were on a public road, outside a very public restaurant; he couldn’t do any of the things he wanted to do so badly, except…
With a snarl he lifted his mouth from hers and buried it against her throat.
“Max,” she whispered in that soft, husky voice.
He suckled at the sensitive juncture of her throat and shoulder until she lay quiet and panting in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder. Gently he scraped the area with his teeth to prepare her. One hand slid down to cup her ass, reveling in the feel of her full curves; the other held her to him with a grip of iron, hard around her back. He had to concentrate not to dig his claws in and knead. He pushed between her legs with his knee until she was practically riding his thigh. With a rumbling purr he bit down, drawing blood and injecting her with the enzyme that would change her, marking her for all time as his. Her cry was muffled by his shirt; feeling her shivers he realized she was climaxing from the effect of the bite, riding his thigh as his essence and hers mingled.
He lapped at the small wound, not surprised to see it was already closing. With his mark on her and her orgasm, some of his own urgency left him. She was his.
Chapter Three
Emma was still reeling from whatever the hell it was Max had done to her with his bite when he gently helped her into the Durango. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t even put her seat belt on without help.
She’d never come so hard in all her life. And he hadn’t even gotten her naked. She desperately tried to ignore the little voice that asked, if it was that good upright and clothed, how would it feel with him naked and inside me? She shivered.
“Are you okay?”
Emma tried to ignore the way her cheeks were heating, instead focusing on the purring amusement she could hear in his voice. “I’m fine,” she squeaked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I, um…” Her voice trailed off as Max took her hand in his, placing it on his hard thigh. She had to clear her throat again, shaking her head violently to see if she could get her brain cells to start working again. “Ah, Saturday…when will you be picking up the costumes?”
Max smiled lazily. “I’ll head to the costume shop tomorrow and get them, don’t worry about it.”
“When will you drop them off?”
Max was silent for a moment, obviously thinking. “Would Becky wear a costume from a secret admirer, or would it be better coming from you?”
Emma bit her lip, her attention once again focused on Becky’s problem rather than the tall blond problem at her side. “I’m not sure. If I told her I’d gotten the costume, she might feel more comfortable about wearing it.”
Max smiled. “We’ll do that, then.” His shoulders went back and his head tilted as he looked down at her briefly, the determination in his eyes completely wiping out the earlier humor. They seemed to gleam gold under a passing street lamp before he turned back to the road. “Now you’re going to explain to me why you carry mace in your pocket.” That odd note of command was back in his voice as he drove away from Noah’s, demanding a reply.
Emma shrugged and ignored the urge to put her head down. “No reason, I just think a woman alone should carry protection and I don’t like the thought of guns.”
“Don’t lie to me, Emma.”
Emma’s chin tilted up. “I’m not lying.” She sniffed. “I don’t like guns.”
“Emma,” he growled.
“Oh, pooh, you don’t scare me, so stop growling,” she yawned. She turned to look at him. “Anyway, should Becky carry her own rapier or would it be better to have her carry a toy?”
Max’s jaw was moving, like he was grinding his teeth. “I can find out. Would you rather tell me, or let me go looking?”
“Wow,” Emma breathed. “I’ve heard of that, but never actually seen it.”
He looked at her quizzically out of the corner of his eye. “Seen what?”
“You actually talked through clenched teeth. I didn’t think anyone really did that, you know?”
He pulled over and put the car out of gear. “Emma, why don’t you want to tell me what happened?”
Emma lifted her hand to the waiter. “Check, please.”
“I’m not gay.” Max stalked to the Durango, trying to decide if he was insulted or not.
Emma shrugged carelessly. “Bi then.”
“Emma!”
He was forced to stop when she collapsed against the side of the car, giggling like a schoolgirl. The only
thing she managed to gasp in between bouts of giggling was, “Oh, God, the look on your face!”
Max shook his head, wondering, knowing she had no idea how few people dared tease him. How the hell had he missed this woman all those years ago? He could have dated Emma back then instead of Livia. He’d have had Emma all these years, laughing at him, teasing him, driving him insane. The thought of his own blindness where she was concerned made him grit his teeth in frustration.
No more. Never again would he allow himself to do without Emma.
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the car door and waited for her to stop laughing. “You finished?” he asked indulgently, his heart beating a strange tattoo at the sound of her laughter.
She wiped the tears away with a final giggle. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.” With a swiftness only another Puma could match, Max snatched her close, bent down and kissed her. She barely had time to gasp.
That small gasp of surprise gave him immediate access to her mouth. He stroked inside her, slow and deep, just like he wanted to take her. He savored her taste, wine, chocolate and woman, and his head reeled. When her lips finally began to move against his, he moaned, his cock twitching like she was stroking him there with her wet heat. Her tongue dueled with his with a shyness that once again brought out his protective instincts. Without thought, he turned her so that her back rested against the Durango, his broad shoulders and back hiding her from the view of those in the restaurant.
No one but him would ever get to see her passion again.
He wanted to open the door, lay her down on the seat, and strip her naked. He wanted to be sheathed so far in her body she’d be able to taste him in the back of her throat. He wanted to mark her with his scent, his seed, and his teeth so badly he shook with it.
But they were on a public road, outside a very public restaurant; he couldn’t do any of the things he wanted to do so badly, except…
With a snarl he lifted his mouth from hers and buried it against her throat.
“Max,” she whispered in that soft, husky voice.
He suckled at the sensitive juncture of her throat and shoulder until she lay quiet and panting in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder. Gently he scraped the area with his teeth to prepare her. One hand slid down to cup her ass, reveling in the feel of her full curves; the other held her to him with a grip of iron, hard around her back. He had to concentrate not to dig his claws in and knead. He pushed between her legs with his knee until she was practically riding his thigh. With a rumbling purr he bit down, drawing blood and injecting her with the enzyme that would change her, marking her for all time as his. Her cry was muffled by his shirt; feeling her shivers he realized she was climaxing from the effect of the bite, riding his thigh as his essence and hers mingled.
He lapped at the small wound, not surprised to see it was already closing. With his mark on her and her orgasm, some of his own urgency left him. She was his.
Chapter Three
Emma was still reeling from whatever the hell it was Max had done to her with his bite when he gently helped her into the Durango. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t even put her seat belt on without help.
She’d never come so hard in all her life. And he hadn’t even gotten her naked. She desperately tried to ignore the little voice that asked, if it was that good upright and clothed, how would it feel with him naked and inside me? She shivered.
“Are you okay?”
Emma tried to ignore the way her cheeks were heating, instead focusing on the purring amusement she could hear in his voice. “I’m fine,” she squeaked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I, um…” Her voice trailed off as Max took her hand in his, placing it on his hard thigh. She had to clear her throat again, shaking her head violently to see if she could get her brain cells to start working again. “Ah, Saturday…when will you be picking up the costumes?”
Max smiled lazily. “I’ll head to the costume shop tomorrow and get them, don’t worry about it.”
“When will you drop them off?”
Max was silent for a moment, obviously thinking. “Would Becky wear a costume from a secret admirer, or would it be better coming from you?”
Emma bit her lip, her attention once again focused on Becky’s problem rather than the tall blond problem at her side. “I’m not sure. If I told her I’d gotten the costume, she might feel more comfortable about wearing it.”
Max smiled. “We’ll do that, then.” His shoulders went back and his head tilted as he looked down at her briefly, the determination in his eyes completely wiping out the earlier humor. They seemed to gleam gold under a passing street lamp before he turned back to the road. “Now you’re going to explain to me why you carry mace in your pocket.” That odd note of command was back in his voice as he drove away from Noah’s, demanding a reply.
Emma shrugged and ignored the urge to put her head down. “No reason, I just think a woman alone should carry protection and I don’t like the thought of guns.”
“Don’t lie to me, Emma.”
Emma’s chin tilted up. “I’m not lying.” She sniffed. “I don’t like guns.”
“Emma,” he growled.
“Oh, pooh, you don’t scare me, so stop growling,” she yawned. She turned to look at him. “Anyway, should Becky carry her own rapier or would it be better to have her carry a toy?”
Max’s jaw was moving, like he was grinding his teeth. “I can find out. Would you rather tell me, or let me go looking?”
“Wow,” Emma breathed. “I’ve heard of that, but never actually seen it.”
He looked at her quizzically out of the corner of his eye. “Seen what?”
“You actually talked through clenched teeth. I didn’t think anyone really did that, you know?”
He pulled over and put the car out of gear. “Emma, why don’t you want to tell me what happened?”
