Call Me Cat (Call Me Cat Trilogy #1)(27)

"How do I do that, Cat?"

"I don't know. If I did, maybe I could fix myself as well. Perhaps we're all broken souls wandering this life looking for something that will make us whole."

"Or someone," he whispered.

"Or someone."

"Cat?"

"Yes?"

He paused, inhaling and exhaling his cigar. "I want you tonight. I want to make love to you. I want to claim a moment that's for pleasure and nothing else. A moment where darkness isn't allowed in."

His words tore at me, and I knew I wanted him. I wanted him as Catelyn, not Cat. But Catelyn had rejected him.

"With you, it wouldn't even be acting."

He inhaled sharply. "What do you look like?"

Uh-oh. "What do you imagine I look like?"

"Petite. Dark haired. Clear skin and dark eyes. Exotic."

He described Catelyn. That's who he wanted tonight, not Cat. God, this was so confusing to my heart. "Then imagine that girl as I straddle your lap and rest my hands on your chest."

"I want you closer, Cat. I need you."

"I'm here, Ash. Wrap your arms around me. Feel my body pressed against yours. Feel your cock growing hard as I press my * against you through our clothing. Your hands tangle into my hair as I lean in to kiss you." I could taste his mouth, a mix of mint and cigar, as I imagined us together. "My lips are soft, full, and I kiss you deeply, sliding my tongue over your bottom lip." My hand slipped into my sweats, and I rubbed a finger over my clit. "You pull up my shirt, exposing my bare breasts, nipples hard for you."

"I want to suck your nipples as you stroke my cock," he said.

Oh, God, Ash. Why did I send you away? "And then I pull down your pants and kneel in front of you, running my tongue up and down your shaft, encircling the head of your cock with my lips, sucking and teasing with my tongue."

"While I finger you," he said, his breathing heavy.

"Your fingers feel so good inside of me. But I want your cock to fill me."

"I lay you back on the floor," he said, "and pull your panties off. I spread your legs, running my hands up your thighs until my fingers brush up against your *. I lean in, kissing your inner thigh and then flicking your clit with my tongue, so gently it just teases you."

This time I moaned, increasing the pressure from my fingers as I imagined everything he said in vivid detail. "I want to feel your tongue deeper."

"You will, sweetheart. You'll feel everything deeper," he said. "The pressure builds in you as I rub and suck and lick. But I stop just before you come, starting again slowly, going faster and faster until you come on my tongue."

With his words I climaxed. My first orgasm with a client. He could hear me coming over the phone, and I knew he was close. "Slam your cock into me now! Feel how tight and wet I am for you, just for you, Ash. Pound me hard and deep and fast until you explode inside of me, our eyes locked on each other, bodies pressed together, my nails digging into your ass and back."

"Yes, Cat. God, yes!"

"As pleasure rips through your body, there's nothing else. Just this. Just us. Let yourself get lost in this moment with me, where only pleasure can live. Give yourself to me, Ash."

And he came, and I cried, wishing he was coming with Catelyn and not Cat.

After our call, I vowed to tell him the truth. Because I realized Catelyn wanted her chance with Ash. After all, he'd held back this time. He hadn't killed the guy.

I imagined what I would say to him to make things right with us when Bridgette crashed open my door, tears streaming down her bruised face. "Oh my God, Catelyn. Oh my God."

I rushed over and hugged her. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "He's dead."

I pulled back. "Who?"

"Bradley. He died from complications in the hospital. Ash killed him."





Chapter Twenty Two


Unusual Suspects


WE LAY ON Bridgette's bed staring up at the ceiling and listening to the silence for over an hour before I finally found the courage to ask the question I feared most. "How do you feel? About Ash killing Bradley?"

She didn't turn to face me, but I watched her profile as she answered, her blond hair spread out behind her like Sleeping Beauty. "I'm glad he died. He deserved it for what he did and almost did to me."

"Buddhists believe in multiple lives," I said. "That we reincarnate and all our baggage and shit from our past life follows us into our new one. If they're right, he'll just come back less enlightened than ever and even more of an *."

She turned to face me, her blue eyes glossy from unshed tears. "I grew up Christian, and while we may not be devout, I still believe in Hell. That's where he is now."

Bridgette and I didn't talk religion often. I had none to speak of, growing up in so many different foster homes. As an adult I'd studied many spiritual practices and found them all lacking in some way, so I meditated and believed in 'something' but couldn't articulate what that 'something' was. I knew Bridgette had been baptized and believed in the God and Jesus of Christianity, though she didn't practice any more than I did. Still, if there were past lives, which from my studies seemed inevitable, then killing someone just created a new cycle of pain for everyone. Would Bradley's death bring Bridgette more peace or less? I hoped for more. Because she was my friend.