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“Did you like it?” she asks, echoing my words every time I please her, face alight with hope, and I have to chuckle. I roll her over so I can lay on top of her and I kiss her gently.
“There’s no word good enough to express how much I liked it,” I growl, hiking her leg up over my hip and rubbing my still hard cock up and down her slit. “Now it’s your turn…”
She smiles seductively at me, rocking her hips against me and intensifying the pleasure, when a growl that isn’t her or I echoes over the hot pools.
I freeze, instantly on alert. It’s not a wolf. Not a bear. It’s a cat.
As one, Cricket and I roll to our knees, ready to shift, ready to run, when we see the great mountain lion step through the steam and approach us. She’s amazing. Her golden coat unmarred by time or battles, she stalks around us with large sharp paws, tail slashing the air, fangs bared as she hisses and slashes out with her claws.
“What do we do?” Cricket whispers.
I put myself between her and the great cat. “She’s hungry, we’re easy prey, she’ll attack.”
“Can’t she smell what we are?” Cricket’s voice is rising, close to panic, but I feel no fear from her.
“Cricket, she’s a wild animal, she doesn’t care what we are!”
The beast lunges, slashes and raking her claws over my chest, drawing thin lines of blood. I growl, ready to shift, but Cricket grabs my shoulders and holds me.
“Don’t kill her!” she begs, eyes wide and full of tears as she stares at the magnificent predator.
“She’ll kill us,” I try to reason, and Cricket sobs. “Cricket, I have too…”
“You don’t! We can get away, we can—” her words die in her throat when a small black shape jumps between us and the huge lion and hisses at it.
“Scraps! No!” I shout and try to grab her, but she jumps out of my reach. Her fur is standing on end, her back arched, and she hisses and spits at the larger cat with all the ferocity of a lion from the Savannah.
To my surprise, the lion steps back once, twice, again. Scraps is herding the great beast away, and for the life of me I'm too dumbfounded to move. The great cat growls low in her throat, irritated, and steps back into the steam and disappears. Satisfied, Scraps sits and wraps her tail around her paws before she turns to look at us over her shoulder. Cricket squeals in delight and runs over to her, picking her up and cradling the small cat in her arms.
“You’re a hero, kitty!” she croons, stroking Scraps as she purrs proudly. “I’ve never seen anything so amazing! I don’t want a kitten, Jax, I want Scraps!”
Apparently, Scraps wants her too.
* * *
The walk back to the safe house is an animated one, filled with laughter and retelling of the crazy scene we just witnessed. How could Scraps, a tiny little house cat, scare away a mountain lion? None of it makes sense, but Cricket’s absolutely thrilled that it happened. When I ask her why she begged me to spare the lion’s life, she just shrugs.
“I’ve been a desperate animal before. I didn’t want her to die just because she was hungry and chose the wrong meal.”
The house is still sweltering from the heat of the day, so as Cricket dresses in her pajamas I walk around and open all the windows and turn on the ceiling fan. Once again, I’m pleased with how simple this home is. How unassuming. No one would ever see this and think it would be a place where a group of infinitely rich people would choose to hide. It’s just a lonely home, probably an old hunter’s, nothing of value here. Yet the security is top of the range. Not a dollar has been spared.
Cricket is curled up on the couch watching the sun rise when I turn to face her. The hike to the pools and back took much longer than I remember, and she yawns and rubs her eyes sleepily as I approach. I’ve never been one to sleep through the day, but all I have to do here is be with her, so I feel no guilt when I pull her up off the couch and take her to the bedroom. I pull the sheets back and she settles into the bed so sweetly, curling up on her side and cuddling her pillow as her eyes drift closed almost instantly.
It’s still very hot in the house, so when I curl up behind her I cover us with only the top sheet. I wrap my arm around her waist and cup her breast, breathing deeply as I place my head behind hers. Her scent is so sweet today, like honey and lavender, and I find myself drifting off to sleep before I even know it.
We sleep the day away, content and happy, waking to turn over and kiss each other gently before falling back into our restful sleep. When I finally wake for good, Cricket is sprawled over my chest, our legs entangled and sheets tossed away. I smile, so happy I don’t know what to do with myself, and stroke her arm gently until she stirs.
“Good morning,” she croaks.
I laugh. “Good evening!” I say, tilting her face to mine and kissing her lips softly.
She moans, body waking as mine obediently stands to attention. She notices it, bare as it is, and wraps her small hand around it and gives it a gentle tug.
“I’m happy to see you too…” she whispers.
“As am I!” another man’s voice says.
I sit bolt upright in bed, shoving Cricket behind me automatically, and I’m face to face with Corey. He’s naked, covered in new wounds, and his twisted cock is as hard as mine was moments ago.
