Hiring the Tiger Page 4

  Green and gold, wide and lustrous.

  “Well hello, lover.” Jasprite laughed with joy, and if there had not been a giant cat on top of her chest, she surely would have applauded his audacity.

  The little wolf, the one whose spectacles she’d fixed, shouted. “Our tiger has your merchant. Get down. Put your hands on your heads, and no one will be hurt.”

  The tiger growled at her.

  “You’re being very naughty now … oh, what the hell was your name…” She’d be damned before she admitted she remembered it.

  Navarro pressed his paw against her forehead, and she left the sharpness of his claw at her hairline. The slightest movement from either of them and her face would be ribbons. Her levity disappeared.

  The little wolf dropped a heavy cloak over the tiger’s back and reported. “Port and Half-ear got six men bound. The seventh was the driver, and he’ll be out for another half hour at least.”

  The beast’s oppressive weight lifted into a much more bearable burden of a young man. Even after his transformation his chest was still scratched from her whip. His skin was still bruised from her kisses. Jasprite took a sick delight in that.

  Jasprite didn’t see him long before he twisted her onto her stomach. One hand grabbed her braided hair and the other jerked her arm behind her back.

  The little wolf tied the rope around her wrist and asked very politely. “May I have your other wrist, my lady? This will go much faster with your cooperation.”

  “I don’t like to go fast,” Jasprite answered. “I can take hours before I cooperate. Ask your friend.”

  The tiger wrenched her other arm behind her back, and the wolf finished his knots without asking his friend any questions.

  When the tiger lifted her by the back of her neck, she couldn’t help but notice he was naked under the cloak. His cock was a little hard.

  “Eyes up here, woman,” Navarro said.

  She grinned. “You’ve gotten yourself in to a world of trouble for a little revenge, tiger.”

  “This isn’t about revenge. This is about money and about what happens to merchants who flaunt it.” He lifted her a little, and the pressure at her throat was too real suddenly to be funny. “Tell your men to do what we say or they’re all dead.”

  “There’s only four of you.” She squirmed but could not breathe.

  He watched her struggle with cool eyes, the same calm that drove her wild with lust. “Will our number make a difference if they’re all dead?”

  “I can’t talk if—”

  Navarro set her on her feet. She took a deep breath and wondered where screaming would get her, if her men would be better served if she asked them to fight and kill, or if she asked them to comply. “Gentlemen, I believe we are hostages. Let’s see where cooperation gets us.”

  She added helpfully. “Horace can also fly the dragon.”

  The wolf with the missing ear brought Navarro his trousers. The tiger took them as he gave orders. “Half-Ear, get her musket. You’ve always wanted a firearm, yeah? Figure out which one is Horace and have him get control of the dragon.”

  The wolf grinned with the gun in hand and scampered off to do the tiger’s bidding.

  Nav pulled on his trousers then stood towering over her. “Do you remember my name yet?”

  Jasprite tingled with fear as he lifted her off the ground by the back of her neck and dropped her on the wagon’s floor. She landed hard.

  He climbed after her and stared down at her. Her fall loosened her kimono, and he could see the darkness of her nipples and pubic hair through the white nightgown.

  Revenge had a part to play in this business, but so did lust. “Eyes up here, um … Shoe, wasn’t it? Oh, no, Hat.”

  He lifted his eyes leisurely, lingering on her un-corseted curves. He chuckled, a delicious rich sound and jerked her to her feet then pushed her onto her own bed. He put the cloak over her face. It carried the thick musky scent of his body, and in spite of herself the smell of him made her ache.

  “After I’m done with you, you won’t forget my name again.”

  He left her bound in the darkness.

  ****

  Jasprite had no sense of the passing time. She knew they were flying. She may have slept, though she did not dream of tiger’s eyes anymore. Sometimes in the darkness, she thought she heard him breathing. Or the creak on the floor where he was crouched watching her. Other times, she decided she was alone in the caravan, because no man could be so silent for so long.

  The ropes hurt her arms, and she squirmed to loosen them or alleviate her pain. The air grew cold, and she couldn’t tell if it was the deepening night or if they flew higher into the mountains.

  Then, somehow, there was daylight through the cloak and the wagon was still.

  Something scratched in the darkness.

  A scrape of metal. A lock but not with its proper mate, rather a pick invaded the place where a key should be. It twitched, leisurely and sure, and the lock surrendered with a click. Her chest opened with a low creak.

  He hummed.

  Navarro was here, had sat in the stillness with her all the long night listening to her twist and writhe in her ropes, smelling her body, counting her breaths. Jasprite shuddered at his quiet control. Which of her devices he would use against her? She ran through her inventory and was half-frightened and half-aroused by the possibilities.

  Would he make her scream and beg where all her hired help could hear? The humiliation sent a rush of blood to her cheeks.

  He inhaled, smelling her arousal, and she wriggled to try to loosen the ropes again. Some cloth rustled. Was he choosing a cotton wrapped toy? The chest closed. She heard nothing.

  Jasprite didn’t know the tiger was upon her, until his powerful arms lifted her. She screamed from surprise and thrashed. She could not get the cloak from off her head and she didn’t understand what was happening to her body. Was he throwing her on her back, or spinning her, or about to drop her? Then she settled across his shoulders, her legs tucked over one and her head dangling off the other. Her arms were still tied behind her, and she wiggled trying to make him fall.

  “We’re on a cliff, Lady Doughton,” Navarro said. “Don’t squirm so much.”

  Against every fiber of her being, she held still. She cried out in fear when he jumped down from the wagon with her. Rocks crunched under his feet, though it didn’t shorten his stride.

  God, but he was a strong man.

  Chan called out. “Hey, where is he taking her?”

  Half-Ear growled. “Stay back.”

  Sock said, “Don’t worry, sir, she’ll be fine. No one is going to hurt the lady, least of all Mr. Navarro.”

  Jasprite didn’t know if the little wolf was right, but he believed what he said. He had utter confidence in Navarro, and he’d reassure others that the tiger knew what he was doing even if he lead them into Hell.

  Her dark world grew even darker, and the crunch of pebbles became the barely audible sound of his bare feet on smooth stone. She tried to not breathe so she could listen to his footfalls, anything to prove he was more than the coils of muscles transporting her into darkness.

  “Tiger, where are you taking me?”

  He did not answer. She got the feeling he would not speak to her unless she said his name. But that was a secret for a desperate moment.

  His stealth was incredible. She heard her own pants echoing off the walls of a tunnel, but his footfall was gone. Somewhere there was the trickle, then stream, then the rush of water. It grew chilled and damp. The rush became a low roar, and she smelled thick moss and wet stone.

  At last, Navarro he swung her around. Mossy stone tickled her feet. She tried to wrench away and managed to get the cloak off her head. There was nothing to see but darkness.

  His hand pressed against her neck. “You’re within twenty feet of an underground river and a steep fall. I don’t recommend exploring.”

  Navarro pushed her back, and her hands, tied behind her, brushed stone.
He circled his arms behind her as if he were hugging her, but he looped her bound arms about a broken stone pillar.

  “Let me go!” She tried to kick, but his body was too solid, too near, too hot. He pushed on her arms and forced her to kneel on the moss. “Untie me.”

  He chuckled. A very effective answer followed by a deep, long silence.

  She did not know he was behind her until he grabbed her ankle and pulled her leg back. She tried to curl away as he wound a rope around her ankle and lashed to the stone. She screamed, wordless and enraged, as he tied her other ankle the same, forcing her to remain on her knees with her legs spread wide.

  “Jasprite, you’re not behaving very well. When’s the last time you were tied down?”

  “Never,” she answered defiantly and continued to struggle against the ropes. Inescapable. “I hope you don’t mistake a lack of whimpering and screaming for consent. This sickens me.”

  “I can smell your lust, Jasprite. I can practically taste—”

  She spat on him, knowing it hit by the wet slap. She expected an explosion of rage. If he struck her, she could hate him.

  Instead, the tiger cupped her chin and touched her lips. “You don’t have to be scared.”

  She trembled. His gentleness would undo her. Part of her wanted nothing more than to sink into her bonds and surrender to her need for him.

  But the other part was stronger. “Don’t touch me, you bastard.”

  He chuckled and obediently his hand went away.

  Jasprite’s body throbbed as she listened for the tiger. She heard nothing, not his footsteps, not his breath. Nothing pierced that darkness, and the sound of the waterfall drowned any noise except the pounding of her own heart.

  She called into the darkness. “Where are you?”

  The sound of an unscrewing metal can and a roar of light came from behind her. She could not see the fire, but she knew it burned with magic. The cavern around her glimmered into view, a haze of blue dragon fire. The lake, large and fairly calm, lapped only inches away. She was bound to a mooring post for a boat. The falls were farther and stretched away in the darkness above her. There was no drop, just a winding river where the lake overflowed. It was beautiful, and she wondered if his other women had ever seen the shimmer of dragon fire on water.

  He had taken her to the root of the mountain. She’d wager half her fortune this path led straight through to the merchant’s pass and belonged to a career bandit.

  “You lied,” she said.

  The tiger crouched in front of her and grinned. “About the fall?”

  “About everything. You’re no day-laborer. To have a hideout like this … you must be a goddamned bandit king.”

  “Maybe, once.” Nav smirked and touched the edge of her nightgown. Cool air caressed her thighs as he teased it.

  “What are you doing?” Jasprite thrashed and hurt her wrists, trying, unsuccessfully to close her legs and protect herself. She didn’t know if he could see her, but he didn’t need to. He could smell her arousal.

  The tiger gripped her neck and pressed her against the stone. Not hard enough to constrict her breathing, just enough to make her stop fighting. “I don’t like the idea of returning you to your men covered in bruises and scratches.”

  It soothed her. Return her to her men. That was a good sign. She focused on his words and not the way his hand moved down her nightgown and fondled her breasts. Gentle hands, big fingers, soft grip. “So … you will ransom us? After you’re finished with me?”

  Nav kissed her throat. She shuddered and tilted her head to give him access. Her hands slackened in the ropes, and she leaned against the stone as he kissed her neck and fondled her breasts. Surrendering.

  When he ripped her nightgown, the sound jarred her out of her submission. The cold cave air raised gooseflesh on her neck. She wriggled against the ropes. “Nav, please, don’t—”

  “Oh, you do remember my name. Does that mean you owe me four gold?”

  She jerked her head free.

  He tore more of her nightgown, exposing her breasts. He dipped his hands past the cotton and squeezed. It reminded her of when she’d groped him in the market, causal and in control of a person who did not matter. She arched, trying to pull away, only grinding closer. She didn’t mean to moan, but she’d lost her control.

  “You didn’t get all you paid for, Lady Doughton.” His voice reverberated through her.

  “I’m quite satisfied with my purchase experience, sir. I’d recommend you highly to any one with similar tastes.”

  He chuckled at her defiance then bowed his head and took his right nipple into his mouth. She gasped and moaned as he sucked. Giving in again to the pleasure, she wiggled toward him, trying to get her feet under her so she could rub her chest and pelvis against him. But he’d bound her too well, and she could do nothing as he lavished kisses on her breasts until they ached.

  “Just so, I must insist.” Something smooth brushed against her exposed slit.

  Jasprite’s eyes flashed open as a cold hard tip touched her sex. The smooth head of her glass dildo, stolen from her chest, stuck to her wet lips.

  His rich sensual voice enveloped her in a haze of desire. “On that first night, between the whipping and the cock-teasing, we somehow forgot I was hired to use this on you.”

  The lid of the tin popped open.

  “Goddamn you.”

  His fingers, soaked with the slick honey inside the tin, brushed over her sex. The gel’s warmth seeped into her flesh, and she shivered as his lean fingers teased her open, dipped into her sex. A welcome invasion. She arched into his fingers as he rubbed her slowly, then harder and faster until she moaned at the fiery lust his brown hands spread. Then his hand slipped away.

  “You know why I brought you down here?” He kissed her breast and rubbed the glass cockhead against her sex.

  She rolled her hips forward trying to force the dildo inside. He flicked his fingers at her clit, and she startled and gasped at the sharp pain.

  “Do you?” he demanded.

  “Because no one will hear me scream?” Jasprite said. She had not heard the roar of the waterfall, and her men would not hear her.

  “That’s right. So let’s hear some screaming.” He held her sex wide with his two fingers and pressed the glass inside.

  Jasprite hadn’t known how wet she was until the dildo moved effortlessly into her cunt. She shuddered and hissed because the unyielding glass was as chilled as the cave, but the heat of her body melted the ice.

  The tiger kissed her mouth. God, he was good at kissing. His full mouth, his careful tongue, the way his hand curled at the back of her head, tangled in her hair. She sank into his kiss, let herself surrender to his lips as easily as the artificial cock slipped between her legs. Under his masterful hand, the shaft twisted in the right places, touched her in the perfect ways, and soon the first wave of orgasm threatened to break her.

  Nav sucked her nipple again while she bucked into the glass statue. She wanted more, more of his body against her breast, more of his mouth, more of his hands. She badly wanted his shaft inside her, not the smooth contours of a toy, but the tiger’s throbbing cock.

  She orgasmed, when he tugged her hair. He jerked her head back to bare her throat to more bites and kisses, and the pain set off a chain reaction of twisted pleasure. She squirmed against his hand and the dildo and filled the cave with her loud grunts and desperate need as the pleasure demolished her body.

  Then everything was still except the rush of the waterfall.

  The tiger slipped the dildo out and replaced it with his fingers, touching her for his own languid curiosity. He kissed her throat and squeezed her breasts as she sagged in the ropes. He stroked her body as if her ecstasy was a skill he’d studied.

  Before she lost herself again, she nudged his head and kissed his ear. “How shall I pay for you to come with me, lover?”

  The tiger leaned away from her looking annoyed. She didn’t know what she’d said wrong un
til Nav took his fingers away and said, “Don’t you ever think about anything other than money?”

  She grimaced. “We all see the world through our own lenses, don’t we?”

  He wasn’t comforted.

  “Nav, there have been precious few men in my life who’ve made me think of anything other than money. Most have disappointed me. But you’re different.”

  He snorted, then stood to walk away.

  “Nav?” She twisted but couldn’t see him. His shadow moved across the water as he left her bound, naked, throbbing with need. “Navarro! Untie me at least.”

  She thrashed against the stone. “Damn it, when was I ever cruel enough to leave you bound? If you don’t have the courage to finish what you start, have the decency to—”

  “Have decency? You fucking bitch.” Then he was on her again, not so tender now as he knelt in front of her.

  His hands groped hard on her breast, then gripped her ass. His solid body crushed her into the stone and his hands pushed at his trousers.

  She never saw his cock before it was buried. She shrieked from the force, the suddenness of his entry, but ground against him. She slipped in the ropes and bucked to encourage his lust. He fucked her hard against the stone, and she begged him for more.

  His lust, the heat of his body, the low growl tearing from his throat were all she could want from a lover. And looking into that handsome face, maddened with desire for her, drove her off the edge again. She whimpered and called his name as she came, more powerful orgasms because it was his cock inside her. The pleasure crested and rose, crested and rose, until she thought the next swell would drive her mad.

  Then the tiger slammed his hips hard into her, burying his cock as deeply as he could. He roared, his face buried in her neck, his hands tight on her shoulders. He exploded in her body, and she cried out as his slick flood triggered her final orgasm.

  After the initial bursts, he continued to slide in and out, releasing more, slowing his pace, as if he needed to retreat from his pleasure. She cooed her approval and squeezed to keep him inside, wanting nothing more than to have this tiger clinging to her, buried inside her forever. She should have let him hold her when she had the chance.