Leopard's Prey
Page 65
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Bijou lifted her buttocks and shimmied the tight-fitting gown down her hips and thighs.
“Leopards, Blue, not the Rougarou. There’s an entire lair of leopards here in the swamp. Bodrie wasn’t leopard, but he met your mother on tour. I believe your mother was leopard, and she passed her gift on to you.”
Bijou chuffed out a breath. “You’ve lost your mind, Remy.”
But she was still slipping the gown down her thighs and legs. She began to peel her sheer stockings from her legs.
“Maybe, but if I’m right, and I’m certain I am, your leopard is close to emergin’. Your joints hurt. Your jaw. Your body feels like it’s on fire, burning from the inside out. And you have to have sex. Right now. Even in the car with me on the edge of the road. Would you ever really do somethin’ like that if you weren’t under extraordinary circumstances?”
He wasn’t explaining things very well and she didn’t have much time.
“I want sex every time I’m anywhere near you, Remy,” she admitted, tossing the stockings into the backseat. The only thing she had left on was a lace panty that didn’t cover much but enhanced and intrigued. “That doesn’t make me a leopard, it makes me like my father, with no self-control and clearly some kind of sex addiction.”
Remy winced at the distaste and self-loathing in her voice. He glanced at her. “Ouch. You could at least pretend you think I’m so overwhelmin’ly sexy that you can’t possibly resist me.” He let out his breath trying to concentrate on the narrow road to get them to safety. “Take off your panties, Blue.”
Bijou could barely use her hands. Her knuckles felt inflamed. Her mouth hurt. Even her scalp hurt. There wasn’t a joint in her body that wasn’t sore. Most of all, her body was on fire. She felt desperate for sex.
She hooked her thumbs in the lace and drew them down, balling them in her fist and holding them almost protectively against her. She had no idea how that tiny scrap of sheer lace was going to protect her against the man she craved like a drug, but if he didn’t pull over soon and let her out of the car, she wasn’t going to be responsible for what happened.
“Now, what?” Her breasts ached, felt swollen and needy. She took a deep breath, utterly aware of her naked body and the way she was affecting Remy. She could feel the heat pouring off him.
She didn’t like the spotlight unless she was performing. Maybe she turned into someone else when she sang, but she liked feeling as if she could fade into the background, quiet and observant rather than being the center of attention—until tonight in the club when all those men had surrounded her so protectively. She’d been aware of every one of them—just as she was aware of her bare skin, the heat and Remy right now. She detested herself for that.
Her attraction had at least been reserved to Remy exclusively. It had been humiliating enough to be so crazy for him that she’d done things she hadn’t even known possible. Now, to think that even for a moment she’d been so insane, feeling sensual and alluring surrounded by the men. She’d smelled them, the various scents so acute, in some way affecting her, and that shamed her. Now what was she doing? She was riding in a car totally naked, doing exactly what Remy wanted of her so she could have wild uninhibited, ferocious sex with him. It was all she could think about.
“Take off my jacket.” He’d worn the dress jacket as a concession to her elegant club. Jacket, white shirt and his jeans. It was the best he could do when he had known clothes would be coming off fast.
She didn’t argue with him but pulled at his sleeve as he lifted one hand off the steering wheel. She jerked his sleeve off and as he leaned forward, took off his jacket for him. It went sailing into the backseat to land over the top of her gown.
When she started to settle back down, he shook his head. “Now my shirt,” Remy ordered. “Hurry, Blue. It’s goin’ to be too late in another few minutes.”
She didn’t know what he meant by too late, but she leaned into him to unbutton the immaculate white dress shirt. He’d looked so handsome when he’d walked into the club. Her heart had nearly stopped, and then began pounding hard. She loved the way he walked with such confidence. The moment she saw him again, she knew she was lost. Remy was her hero, and he always would be. She had no idea she would have such a physical reaction to him, especially when as a teenager and during her college years she had never once been tempted to give herself to a man.
Her hands were clumsy on the buttons, her knuckles aching, the tips of her fingers on fire. She could barely breathe as she slipped the buttons free of the openings. Her hands kept brushing his bare skin, sending little electrical shocks racing over her own. She swallowed hard, trying to clear what felt like an obstruction in her throat. Her skin itched in waves, over and over, and her skull felt too tight as if it didn’t quite fit. She tugged on the shirt and managed to get it off of him, sending it flying into the backseat along with everything else.
“Now my jeans.”
His voice was husky, a velvet brush of sensuality that sent more electrical charges streaking through her bloodstream. She gasped, licked her lips and reached for the band of his low-riding jeans. He wore button-up denim rather than a zipper and again she found she had even more of a difficult time releasing his straining cock. Her breath came in ragged, desperate puffs, her lungs burning for air as she slowly managed to get the buttons undone.
Remy lifted his buttocks so she could wiggle the material down his hips to the strong column of his thighs. Her hands felt clumsy. Burning. Too big. Her fingers didn’t want to work. Her body felt as if it had burst into flames, so hot she could barely stand it. She turned to roll down the window.
“Leopards, Blue, not the Rougarou. There’s an entire lair of leopards here in the swamp. Bodrie wasn’t leopard, but he met your mother on tour. I believe your mother was leopard, and she passed her gift on to you.”
Bijou chuffed out a breath. “You’ve lost your mind, Remy.”
But she was still slipping the gown down her thighs and legs. She began to peel her sheer stockings from her legs.
“Maybe, but if I’m right, and I’m certain I am, your leopard is close to emergin’. Your joints hurt. Your jaw. Your body feels like it’s on fire, burning from the inside out. And you have to have sex. Right now. Even in the car with me on the edge of the road. Would you ever really do somethin’ like that if you weren’t under extraordinary circumstances?”
He wasn’t explaining things very well and she didn’t have much time.
“I want sex every time I’m anywhere near you, Remy,” she admitted, tossing the stockings into the backseat. The only thing she had left on was a lace panty that didn’t cover much but enhanced and intrigued. “That doesn’t make me a leopard, it makes me like my father, with no self-control and clearly some kind of sex addiction.”
Remy winced at the distaste and self-loathing in her voice. He glanced at her. “Ouch. You could at least pretend you think I’m so overwhelmin’ly sexy that you can’t possibly resist me.” He let out his breath trying to concentrate on the narrow road to get them to safety. “Take off your panties, Blue.”
Bijou could barely use her hands. Her knuckles felt inflamed. Her mouth hurt. Even her scalp hurt. There wasn’t a joint in her body that wasn’t sore. Most of all, her body was on fire. She felt desperate for sex.
She hooked her thumbs in the lace and drew them down, balling them in her fist and holding them almost protectively against her. She had no idea how that tiny scrap of sheer lace was going to protect her against the man she craved like a drug, but if he didn’t pull over soon and let her out of the car, she wasn’t going to be responsible for what happened.
“Now, what?” Her breasts ached, felt swollen and needy. She took a deep breath, utterly aware of her naked body and the way she was affecting Remy. She could feel the heat pouring off him.
She didn’t like the spotlight unless she was performing. Maybe she turned into someone else when she sang, but she liked feeling as if she could fade into the background, quiet and observant rather than being the center of attention—until tonight in the club when all those men had surrounded her so protectively. She’d been aware of every one of them—just as she was aware of her bare skin, the heat and Remy right now. She detested herself for that.
Her attraction had at least been reserved to Remy exclusively. It had been humiliating enough to be so crazy for him that she’d done things she hadn’t even known possible. Now, to think that even for a moment she’d been so insane, feeling sensual and alluring surrounded by the men. She’d smelled them, the various scents so acute, in some way affecting her, and that shamed her. Now what was she doing? She was riding in a car totally naked, doing exactly what Remy wanted of her so she could have wild uninhibited, ferocious sex with him. It was all she could think about.
“Take off my jacket.” He’d worn the dress jacket as a concession to her elegant club. Jacket, white shirt and his jeans. It was the best he could do when he had known clothes would be coming off fast.
She didn’t argue with him but pulled at his sleeve as he lifted one hand off the steering wheel. She jerked his sleeve off and as he leaned forward, took off his jacket for him. It went sailing into the backseat to land over the top of her gown.
When she started to settle back down, he shook his head. “Now my shirt,” Remy ordered. “Hurry, Blue. It’s goin’ to be too late in another few minutes.”
She didn’t know what he meant by too late, but she leaned into him to unbutton the immaculate white dress shirt. He’d looked so handsome when he’d walked into the club. Her heart had nearly stopped, and then began pounding hard. She loved the way he walked with such confidence. The moment she saw him again, she knew she was lost. Remy was her hero, and he always would be. She had no idea she would have such a physical reaction to him, especially when as a teenager and during her college years she had never once been tempted to give herself to a man.
Her hands were clumsy on the buttons, her knuckles aching, the tips of her fingers on fire. She could barely breathe as she slipped the buttons free of the openings. Her hands kept brushing his bare skin, sending little electrical shocks racing over her own. She swallowed hard, trying to clear what felt like an obstruction in her throat. Her skin itched in waves, over and over, and her skull felt too tight as if it didn’t quite fit. She tugged on the shirt and managed to get it off of him, sending it flying into the backseat along with everything else.
“Now my jeans.”
His voice was husky, a velvet brush of sensuality that sent more electrical charges streaking through her bloodstream. She gasped, licked her lips and reached for the band of his low-riding jeans. He wore button-up denim rather than a zipper and again she found she had even more of a difficult time releasing his straining cock. Her breath came in ragged, desperate puffs, her lungs burning for air as she slowly managed to get the buttons undone.
Remy lifted his buttocks so she could wiggle the material down his hips to the strong column of his thighs. Her hands felt clumsy. Burning. Too big. Her fingers didn’t want to work. Her body felt as if it had burst into flames, so hot she could barely stand it. She turned to roll down the window.
