What the Cat Dragged In Read online

  “Yay!” The little girls grabbed hands and started bouncing and twirling, spinning each other.

  “Hey!” Gus barked. “Hot grease and pans. Dance outside.”

  “Yes, Gussy. Sorry, Gussy.”

  Brock blinked over at Gus. “Gussy?”

  “I know, but that’s what they call me.”

  And Connor reckoned Brock didn’t mind that as much as he pretended. In fact, Brock slid right into the family, working with Gus to help with breakfast, herding kids when he needed to.

  It was adorable.

  Not as adorable as being about to drop Lisle and Bella in the middle of a rumpled Sam’s shit to wake him for breakfast, but pretty damn cute.

  “One, two, three.” Connor plopped the girls down on the bed, and they bounced and hollered like the little beasts they were.

  A half-dozen puppies started barking, and Sam sat up like a shot, green eyes huge and shocked. “What the…?”

  “Language, Daddy Sam.”

  “Careful, Uncle Connor. I kick.”

  “Do you?” He bounced on the bed with his buddy, leaned hard as he gathered a puppy into his arms. “Hello, brother. Better day today?”

  “Infinitely, Con. Thank you for coming.” Sam squeezed him hard enough the puppy growled.

  “Always. I am here when you need my happy ass. Breakfast is fixin’ to be ready.”

  “Daddy Sam! There’s presents!”

  “Oh, is there? You spoil them.”

  “Always.” That was his job, wasn’t it? He was the indulgent uncle.

  “Mmm. Well, I can smell sausage, so let’s go!” Sam scooped up puppies and put them on the floor, then grabbed the two girls.

  “Gus is cooking up a storm. I think he’s feeding the whole pack.”

  Sam chuckled. “I bet he is after our last few days. He comes from a big extended family. Lots of togetherness and lasagna.”

  “That should be the title of a book—Togetherness and Lasagna.”

  “Totally. Minestrone for the Soul.”

  They headed for the kitchen and arrived in time to see Brock flipping pancakes with both hands.

  “Impressive. You keeping him?”

  That would be nice. “Not sure if he’s into being kept. I haven’t found where he goes yet, though.”

  “Well, you can’t let go until you do.” Sam got him. Really.

  “Exactly.” And it might take time. Eons.

  Hopefully at least enough time to make Brock want to stay. Connor liked him so. Of course, it wasn’t up to him.

  He shook off his thoughts, moving to grab plates and cups and then taking them all to the huge slab that served as the community table. The pups got milk in bowls, and he knew Gus had put together meat and peas and carrots with some egg yolks for them. They were the easiest ones to feed. The littles who were in human form were way more picky.

  He helped Pete and Lizzie grab puppy bowls, as Gray rode herd over them all.

  “Make them sit before you give them the food, Con. Please.”

  “You got it, Liz. Okay, y’all. Sit on your heinies.”

  Little tails thumped and butts hit the floor. Sweet babies.

  “Oh, look at that!”

  “Gray’s been working hard on manners.”

  “Good man.” Connor fed babies, and then there were toddlers to corral, and he didn’t breathe until Brock pulled him down so he sprawled on Brock’s lap. “Oh, hello.”

  No springing wood. None. Zero. Zip.

  “Hey. You need to eat, Ragbone. I made you butterscotch and candied bacon pancakes. With whipped cream.”

  “Uhn.” He could lick Brock from top to bottom. “My hero.”

  “I wanted you to have something special for finding Lisle.” Brock grinned at him, and Connor wanted to kiss that mouth so hard.

  So he did, ignoring Sam’s soft applause.

  Brock made a tiny, rough noise but didn’t push him away. Yum.

  He pulled back and dug in, humming over his breakfast. The syrup was warm. That was a nice touch, and one he didn’t think Gus had come up with.

  “Uncle Connor?” Bella leaned close. “Can I try a bite?”

  “A little one, yes.”

  Bella took a bite, and her eyes crossed. Not in a good way. “Salty cream!”

  He chuckled softly. “Acquired taste.” Salty cream was sort of one of his addictions.

  “Grown-ups like it?”

  “We do.”

  “Grown-ups are weird.”

  He nodded in absolute agreement. “You know it.”

  She nodded back very solemnly. Then she left to ask for more bacon. She was about to grow, he would bet.

  “Are you?” Brock asked.

  “Weird or grown-up?”

  “Either. Both.” Brock was petting his belly.

  “More weird than grown-up, but still both.”

  “Whatever it is, you did a great job last night.”

  Did he? It wasn’t really him, and he knew it. He just channeled, and was grateful for, whatever force moved in the universe. “Thank you, sir. I’m glad she let me find her.”

  “Me too.” Brock kissed his ear. Bacon made the man super affectionate.

  Good to know. He leaned harder, his eyelids getting heavy.

  “Still sleepy?” Brock fed him a bite of bacon and pancake.

  “Not unless you want to go upstairs and nap.”

  “I totally do. We should do your presents first. Two of the kids are sitting out there staring at the box.”

  “Ah, yes. They’ve been patient, haven’t they?”

  “They totally have.” Gus took his plate. “While you’ve been making smoochies.”

  “Leave them alone, Gus.” Sam chuckled. “It’s nice to see.”

  Connor’s cheeks heated, and he climbed off Brock’s lap. “Who wants to see what I got?”

  The gifts were all little, but he’d chosen carefully. The cubs got toys, and the more human kids had colors and coloring books, and the older ones had games and adventures to take them outside, while the teenage ones had Amazon gift cards. Never let them say he didn’t know kids.

  Squealing, Bella and Lisle ran off with theirs, and the squeaky toy parade began.

  “Oh dear God.” Brock stared, then began to cackle, head thrown back. God, he was so pretty, his tanned throat working, his black lashes fanning his cheeks.

  They all looked so proud, showing each other their toys, showing Gray and the Alpha, both.

  Gus praised, winking at him over the heads of all heights. “Randi and Richie are doing dishes. Go get some rest. I know you two were on the road forever.”

  “We were.” He grabbed Brock’s hand. “Nappage.”

  Napping with a locked door and naked licking.

  “You look like you have more cream waiting for you up there.”

  “Do I?” He went for innocent.

  “You do.” Brock walked with him, swinging his hand.

  “You know how my tongue feels. I will make it good for you.”

  Brock’s breathing quickened. “I know you will, honey. Your mouth is a dream.”

  His cheeks heated, and Connor bounced up the stairs, his purr echoing. Sucking and touching was more important than sleeping. Hell, he wanted to just rub and snuggle, share scent, possibly bite a little.

  Brock leaped into bed with him after pulling closed the little accordion doors that made his loft into a room. Good man.

  He yowled softly, stripping himself off. He wanted touching. Now.

  Brock struggled out of his clothes and put them on the little chair. Yeah, they were clean, right out of Brock’s bag. “You’re so damned hot, Ragbone.”

  “You smell like heaven.” He crawled into the mattress, nuzzled into the curve of Brock’s hip, and inhaled deep.

  Brock stroked a hand over his hair. “You feel warm. I like your bed too. Did I say?”

  “You did. It’s a good place, a damn fine room.”

  “The bed is the best part. Though you’ll hav
e to play the guitar for me.”

  “I reckon I can do that. Later. First this.” He nuzzled Brock’s ball sac, moaning at the scent.

  “Oh.” Brock’s legs fell open, giving him an all-access pass. He chuffed with pure pleasure, arms stretching up to slide along Brock’s sides as he laughed.

  “Tickly!” Brock wiggled, which caused that heavy cock to slap Connor’s nose.

  He snorted and tossed his head. “If you give me a black eye, you have to explain it.”

  “I’ll take the hit if I need to, honey.” Brock sat up to peer at his face. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. How’s your cock?” He licked a long line up the shaft.

  “Unharmed, but you could examine it closely to be sure.”

  “I should. What if it’s all bent up?”

  “Exactly. It might need kissing.”

  The easy play made him chuckle, made him nuzzle along the flared tip, nibbling at the head.

  “Teeth!” Brock sounded more aroused than alarmed, though, so Connor did it again. Brock began to pant, moving a little, and a rush of pure arousal hit Connor like a runaway freight train.

  He opened his mouth and rose up so he could close his lips around the glans, flick his tongue over the slit, and gather all the flavor from his lover’s prick.

  Brock moaned, hips rocking, beginning to fuck his face. He opened up and took it, letting the tip drag over the roof of his mouth. That had Brock shouting his name. This was the best game ever.

  Hopefully Sam and Gus had the kids busy doing something else. The downstairs doors were shut, though, and they knew that meant to stay downstairs.

  And he didn’t want to think about anything but the hot prick sliding on his tongue. He wanted Brock to come for him, give him all the heat and sounds and seed.

  “Jesus, Ragbone, you think so fucking loud.”

  “Mmm.” He hummed, knowing the vibration would make Brock crazy. No one had ever told him he was easy to read. Never.

  Brock jerked, then yanked him up off his prize. “Tell me you catch, Connor. Tell me I can fuck you.”

  He wasn’t terrible sure about the first, but he did know about the second. “You can fuck me.”

  “Good. Do you have slick? Lube, lotion?” Brock’s face was set in hard lines, his dark eyes going gold around the edges.

  “I jack off.” He rolled up and dug through his bag, then came up with a well-loved tube of slick.

  “Perfect.” Brock tore it open, getting two fingers wet. “Gimme.”

  “Hands and knees?” He barely avoided asking, “Doggy-style?” Barely.

  “Yeah. To start, anyway. Makes it easier to get you open.”

  He crawled onto the bed, arching his back and stretching long, releasing any tension living in his spine.

  “Yoga kitty,” Brock teased, stroking his back, petting him with the not gooey hand.

  “We’re well-suited.”

  “Are we?” Brock bent to kiss the nape of his neck, then nip at it.

  “Yes.” That hadn’t been what he meant, but it fit the situation, so he went with it.

  Brock didn’t seem to notice he meant kitties were good at yoga, so it wasn’t embarrassing to anyone, right? Then Brock pushed those wet fingers against his hole, and Connor gave up thinking.

  His lips popped open audibly, and he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried, which he didn’t.

  “That’s good, right?” Brock was circling, pressing, easing in.

  “Uh. Uh-huh.” Good. Words. Talking. Fuck him raw.

  “Mmm, yeah. Definitely good. I like incoherence.” Brock pushed those fingers in and out, stretching him.

  “More.” That was clear, right?

  “Like this?” Brock gave him one more finger, really working back and forth.

  This sound poured out of him—raw and wild and purely needy.

  “Soon, honey. I’ll be inside you soon. So fucking tight.”

  Brock leaned down and bit him, right at the base of his spine, and a pure bolt of lightning slammed down his back.

  Connor arched up, his fingers digging into the sheets. He panted, his head hanging, his ass rocking side to side, searching for more sensation.

  “Damn, baby, you’re…. I’ve never seen anything so right.”

  “Then fuck me, already.” He was being demanding, but he was aching, wanting them to join together.

  Brock pulled free before grabbing his hips and flipping Connor to his back. “I want to see your face.”

  He grabbed his knees and pulled them up and out. “Now, Fuzzy.”

  “Hell, yes.” Brock took a moment to slick his cock, then muscled up between Connor’s spread thighs, the wet, hot-as-fire head of that fine cock piercing him easily. There was a deep pang as the tip pushed through, but it was a zing of spice to a near perfect flood of heat.

  They both froze for a moment, catching their breath, Brock staring at him, eyes almost black with need.

  He reached up with one hand, cupping Brock’s jaw. He stared into those eyes, wanting Brock to see how important this was, how freaking life changing. This wasn’t just sex, and Connor knew it, deep inside where Brock’s cock pressed hard.

  Brock groaned, shook his head, but there was no denying.

  He knew when he was found.

  They began to move, Brock shoving forward hard enough to slam him back against the headboard. So strong. He braced himself, meeting Brock’s strength, over and over. Connor lifted his legs, and Brock slid one arm under each of them, holding him in an unbearably vulnerable position.

  “I have you.” Brock’s voice scraped along his nerves like a razor.

  “You do.” He gritted his teeth to keep from babbling, because none of the things he ought to say actually worked right now. Brock needed steamy sex right now.

  The rest could come.

  Oh.

  He could come.

  He so wanted to come.

  “Me too.” Brock bared his teeth, thrusting faster with every movement. “I want to feel it around me when you can’t take it anymore. Want to feel it on my skin.”

  He nodded, his words dried up against the storm that was Brock. They worked together, straining toward the end, and when Brock slipped a little, sliding on his sweaty body, it slammed Brock deep, and it was all Connor could take.

  Connor arched up, his back popping he moved so fast. He came all over Brock’s chest and belly.

  Brock threw his head back and howled, cock pulsing inside him. His lover came hard, filling him deep with wet warmth, filling him with wonder.

  They hung there a moment, rocking together, panting as one.

  Then they slumped to the bed, both of them clinging, not speaking. Brock kissed him hard, and he opened right up, body and soul. He wanted this for the rest of his life, but he knew better than to push. Brock would have to be handled carefully.

  He had to trust in the universe to tell him his path. Until then, he would enjoy this pleasure, this weight.

  They would work the rest out as it came.

  Chapter Eleven

  BROCK SAT on Gus and Sam’s back porch, holding a longneck between his fingers and watching a horde of small children and pups crawl on a very golden kitty.

  “They love him, huh?” Gus plopped down in the rocker next to him, a beer of his own in hand.

  “They do. He’s a generous spirit.” Brock couldn’t understand what it was about Connor that made him so crazy happy.

  “He’s something else, and he’d do anything for Sam.”

  “So, how’s it going with you? Making a new pack, I mean.” The whole process fascinated Brock.

  “It’s absolutely fucking insane.” Gus snorted, shook his head. “I thought I was this eternal nomad, a lone wolf, and here I am with all these babies.”

  “Yeah.” Made a guy think about settling down, which was batshit crazy. Brock did wildlife rescue. That was his job. He wasn’t a “stay at home and rot” type.

  “Still, I’m not bored, that’s for
sure.”

  A huge black cat came tearing through the clearing, bowling over puppies and getting in the middle of all of Connor’s business.

  Brock half stood, but Gus grabbed his arm. “Just Sam. Let them play.”

  Right. He knew that. The fight just looked rough.

  Sam went up on his back legs, and Connor went low, taking Sam right down to the ground with a thump.

  Gus frowned. “Watch it, Con!”

  “He’s hurt those legs, hasn’t he?” Brock could tell Sam had a bit of weirdness there.

  “Yeah.” There was a wealth of emotion in that single word—fury and guilt and pain and pride.

  “You can barely tell.” He could see where Gus would worry, though.

  Connor was grooming Sam, long licks and meditative nibbles while the panther yowled and snarled.

  He grinned. His freak kitty. Brock sipped his beer, covering his sudden confusion.

  “Sam never had a sibling that was a feline. He grew up with wolves. Connor is special to him.”

  “They’re definitely like sibs.” Which was great. He didn’t have to be jealous.

  “I didn’t know that there were any decent ones.”

  “Decent one what?”

  “Felines. They’re the ones that hurt Sam.”

  Brock glanced at Gus. “I bet some cats would say the same for us. Territory and shit is tighter now than ever.”

  “I imagine so.” Although he would bet, from the expression on Gus’s face, he’d never thought of that.

  Brock was out in the world of other shifters a lot, though, so he was maybe running a step ahead. “Connor doesn’t seem to have any trouble with y’all—wolf or feline.”

  Or coyote.

  “Nope. He’s a cool cat.” Gus winked, and Brock dutifully chuckled.

  “So… I have to ask, how did this happen? This whole… thing.”

  “You mean the Fabulous Sam Finn Shifter Fucking Sanctuary?”

  Someone had worked hard on that alliteration.

  “Yep.” He reached down next to him for a bag of pretzels. “I mean, it’s unusual.”

  “I told you. It’s fucking insane. But we have the land, and Sam, well, I guess rescuing shifters isn’t that different from choreography.”

  “He’s also following in his father’s footsteps.” Sam’s mom, Mona, joined them, grabbing the pretzels out of Brock’s hand.