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Quinten took a shuddery breath, hands spanning Caden’s sun-warmed low back. “Does my kitten need something?”
An animalistic growl right in his ear should not have been a fucking turn-on.
And yet…
“You, Quin. I need you. No more teasing.”
Quinten turned and pressed his smile into Caden’s messy hair. “I haven’t been teasing you—”
“Yes, you have! For weeks, you’ve refused to fuck me, and I can’t take it anymore.”
Grabbing some of Caden’s hair, he jerked his head back, humor gone. “I’ve been preparing you, not refusing. We’re not in a rush here, Caden.”
Caden rolled his eyes, his irises still glowing softly. “I’m in a rush. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin if I don’t get you inside me.”
Heat crawled down Quinten’s spine. “I’ve been inside you.”
“Your fingers,” Caden grumbled, like he didn’t go off like a damn geyser every time.
“And my tongue.”
Pink washed over Caden’s cheeks, and Quinten couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and tasting the color. “Okay, yes, but I’m ready for your cock. I promise I’m ready.”
He’d known for days Caden was getting impatient, but Quinten kept holding him off, knowing that as soon as they crossed that line, things would be… different. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Caden—fucking hell, did he ever—but he knew what it would mean for the cat. He’d seen the looks Caden had been giving him when he thought Quinten wasn’t looking; he’d noticed how obsessive he’d gotten about getting Quinten’s scent all over him and his mouth on the curve of his neck, right where a bonding bite would go.
Except Quinten’s useless human teeth couldn’t give him that.
And it wasn’t the only thing Quinten couldn’t give him.
“Quin,” Caden moaned, rubbing his whole body against him. “Please.”
His control snapped. He’d probably hate himself one day when his heart was ripped from his chest the day Caden left him to get the things he needed from someone who could actually give them to him.
But today…
Today, he’d make Caden his.
He ran his hands down the supple muscles of Caden’s back and to his strong thighs, loving how much he’d filled out in just two weeks, but it also meant there was no way he and his nearly forty-year-old back could carry him up the stairs, even if Caden did the heavy lifting by holding on to him with his arms and legs.
“Okay, kitten. Let’s go upstairs.”
Caden moaned in relief and jumped up, but he didn’t hurry out of the room. Instead, he hopped up onto Quinten’s desk and spread his legs.
“No, here.”
Quinten stood, rearranging himself in his pants, and glanced at the open door behind Caden. “You deserve a bed—”
“I want this,” he said clearly, grabbing the front of Quinten’s button-up shirt and tugging him between his legs. “You’re a fucking king, Quinten. Fuck me in your throne room.”
This man was going to kill him.
He had his tongue shoved down Caden’s throat before he could even draw his next breath, holding him tight just like his jaguar craved, his fingers digging in just behind Caden’s sensitive ears.
He devoured him.
They were so close, their bodies entwined and souls fucking touching, that he nearly lost his head and forgot about the door.
He tried to pull back, but Caden’s hands held him tight. “The door,” he managed to say, his voice muffled against the side of Caden’s mouth.
