Chapter 8

Squatch.

I didn’t go into Blaze the first night Kitty went back to work. I worked late at the spa, and then gave my wolf some time to run on the property once the customers were gone.

Still, I made sure I was home when she got there, but she walked straight by me and into the shower. My wolf bristled the second she stepped in the door. We smelled other men on her. No one had come on or in her directly because she’d made them wear a condom, but they’d touched her, and they’d been hornier than fuck when they’d put hands on her.

She smelled like she’d had sex with dozens of men. I knew she’d likely only gone next door with two, but she’d given lap dances, and let them touch her when they put money in her G-string.

I’d known what I’d smell, and I’d thought I could handle it, but I had to walk outside my apartment and punch a tree a few dozen times before I regained control. My fists were bloody when I finally stopped, but I stood and felt the pain a good ten minutes before I changed my hands, counted to ten, and then changed them back.

I pushed the wolf down, went back inside, stripped, and joined her in the bathroom. She was standing before the sink, blow drying her hair. I took the dryer away from her, turned it off, and pulled her into my arms.

“Your wolf is pissed.” She sounded like she was about to cry, but her face didn’t show it, nor did I scent anything but the soap and shampoo she’d used.

“My wolf would happily pee all over you right now to scent mark you,” I agreed. “I let him vent a little outside, but I’ve pushed him down. It feels like you’ve pushed the tiger down, too.”

“It felt like this was a precarious time for us, so I figured it might be best if the humans were fully in charge.”

I laughed. “The humans are never fully in charge. Your cat is too feline, and my wolf is too canine.”

* * * *

Kitty His wolf hadn’t just been pissed. Incensed was closer, but still not enough. Furious. I needed to head something off before he put it out there, though, so I told him, “I considered all the ways you might try to deal with this tonight, and I think if you try to punish me for being with other men, I’ll need to go home and end our experiment.”

He shook his head. “I was thinking maybe I should rub you down with whatever lotion or oil you use. That’ll let me touch you all over, and you’ll hopefully like it, and I think girls have to do that anyway, right?”

“I have shea butter scented with a hint of patchouli.” My signature scent in my former life had been shea butter scented with a hint of vanilla. The patchouli seemed to better fit my new life.

“Bring it with you.”

“I need to finish drying my hair or it’ll be wild tomorrow, Sir.”

His eyes softened, and I swear the milk chocolate brown turned to dark chocolate. He liked hearing me call him Sir.

And then it hit me. He’d only ordered me to call him Sir when we were talking before he punished me. Outside of that, he wasn’t saying anything when I didn’t, though he let me know he liked it when I did.

Maybe this wasn’t so much him owning me, as us owning each other? I could leave whenever I wanted. I’d told him I’d be gone all night and part of the day when I’d needed the time to change and then do my hair, and he’d accepted it without grilling me.

I used the cool function on my dryer once my hair was dry, put my hair into a loose messy bun, and grabbed my homemade shea butter mixture. Squatch was on top of the covers, with a blanket on top of the regular bedding. Naked. Waiting for me. His mister happy was at half mast, and it made me want to take it in my mouth.

He grinned and patted the bed. “You first. I want to start with your back, so I need you on your stomach.”

I stretched out, and then moaned when he started rubbing my feet. I already knew he had magical fingers, but I’d had no idea he’d know how to give a proper foot massage.

It was another of those things I’d had to learn how to do before I could be temporarily given to a tiger who was supposed to impregnate me. I knew the proper way, but how did Squatch?

He waited until he got to my calves to start talking.

“I’ve agreed not to ask too many questions about your past, but I need to know some things about your sexual experiences. In some ways, you seem like you’re a recent virgin, but in other ways, you seem to have a decade of experience.”

I had no idea how to answer his question. I decided to go with as much of the truth as I could. “You seem to have a pretty good handle on it, then.”

He didn’t say anything for at least three or four minutes. “I told you, originally, that you weren’t allowed to orgasm without my permission, but then you came without permission last night and didn’t seem to think anything of it, so I let it go until we could talk about it.”

I felt my brow wrinkle. “I assumed you gave me the orgasm, so that was permission enough.”

His scent told me he was both relieved and confused by my answer.

When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “What am I missing, Sir?”

“Most people who play around in this lifestyle use orgasm control. It means even if I’m trying to give you an orgasm, you aren’t allowed to come until I verbally give you permission. It boggles my mind that someone has taught you to enjoy a spanking but you have no idea that orgasm control even exists.”

Bobcat had paid for my services once, before he’d met Tess. He’d told me I wasn’t allowed to orgasm until his phone’s alarm went off. I’d thought it odd, but it’d been anal sex so I’d managed to not orgasm until it went off. To be honest, it’d been kind of hot, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it on a regular basis.

“I like watching you come,” he said. “Feeling you. Smelling you. I don’t think I want to teach you control.”

My heart sped as I took in the meaning of what he was saying. He likes me as I am — he doesn’t want to change me.

“One of my johns taught me to enjoy being spanked,” I told him. “He offered to pay more. A lot more, and promised he’d stop if I said guacamole.” There was a lot I couldn’t explain, but I saw no danger in telling him that much. The john hadn’t hit me anywhere near as hard as Squatch, but I’d loved the feel of Squatch’s hand.

Not his belt, but he hadn’t wanted me to enjoy that.

Squatch spent two hours massaging every millimeter of me. Even my eyelids and my ears, both of which surprisingly sent warm tingles to my pussy. He also made a short detour to my nipples, and that sent electrical sparks, not just tingles.

When he finished, he fucked me from behind with both of us lying on our sides, and only moved enough to dispose of the condom and dry his dick before he was back behind me, the heat of him at my back, so much contained power, all those hard, defined muscles spooned around me, holding me with gentle strength.

How long are you supposed to wait before you tell someone you love them? I’d never told anyone I loved them except my close family. I didn’t know the answer, so I didn’t say anything.

And again, I thought about the difference between having sex and being fucked. Sometimes, Squatch and I have sex, but most of the time, he fucks me. Hard and fast and perfect. I wasn’t certain I could explain the difference, and yet, I felt it.