Chapter Three #2
Franklin turned back to Cameron and did his best to picture Cameron’s neck decorated by a collar. It wasn’t as easy as he expected it to be. It was only made more difficult when he heard a snarl starting to build at the back of Cameron’s throat.
Arslan seemed to realise then that other members of his pride had arrived to share their breakfast. He waved a hand, welcoming them into the room.
They barely had a chance to step through the doorway before Cameron raced past them in the opposite direction.
Ellery only just had time to catch hold of Kefir’s shoulder and pull him out of Cameron’s way to stop him getting trampled.
Franklin’s eyes tracked Cameron’s progress until he was out of sight. The sound of light footfalls on the stairs floated through to them a moment later, and Franklin remembered how to breathe. Cameron hadn’t left the house.
Excusing himself from the breakfast table with as much dignity as he could muster, Franklin left the room.
As far as he was aware, everyone who lived at the den, and a few more lions besides, were already downstairs. The only person he could stumble upon by opening all the doors on the upper floor and searching into each room in turn was Cameron. He started with the first door on his right.
* * * * *
A footstep on a creaky floorboard outside his bedroom door made Cameron tense. The door handle rattled. The heavy mahogany panel swung inward.
It was so easy for him to picture Arslan’s oversized frame filling the door.
You will act in the way your pride expects, or you will accept the consequences.
You’ll show due respect to the leader of your pride if you wish to remain a part of this pride.
You will follow your leader’s orders—all of them.
He remembered hearing the words so clearly. They each echoed through his mind, reaching out to him over the years that had passed since he’d left his last pride.
Well, screw that!
As Cameron’s pacing took him to the wall on the far side of the bedroom, he spun around, more than ready to give any lion on the planet a piece of his mind.
He stopped short when he saw Franklin there. Cameron’s eyes narrowed as the guy stepped into the room and shut the door firmly behind him.
“I’m not offering you a night in an ally,” Franklin said, as he met Cameron’s gaze. “I’m offering you the chance to make sure you’d never have to work an alleyway again.”
“To be your private whore until you get bored of it?” Cameron spat.
“To be looked after by—”
That was all he managed to say before Cameron reached him. Franklin’s back hit the door, hard. “By someone who wants to screw me?” Cameron hissed into Franklin’s ear as he pinned him back against the woodwork.
“Yes.”
Well, at least the guy had the balls not to try to lie about it. That was something.
Cameron half snarled as he fought against his own desire for the man. The temptation to give into it, just once, was almost overpowering. He’d let enough men screw him for money, would it really be so bad to let one more guy screw him while thinking that was all he was interested in—
“No!” The word escaped from Cameron’s lips before his brain had a chance to catch up.
It came from somewhere far deeper and more instinctive than any thought process.
This man was far more important than any of the others could ever have been.
The rules Cameron had become so used to just didn’t apply.
Franklin wriggled against the wall, tugging impatiently against Cameron’s hold on him, but a human—even one who had obviously spent a lot of time in the gym honing his muscles—would never be any kind of a match for a lion’s natural strength.
Easily keeping him pinned against the door, Cameron stared down at Franklin.
They were pressed tightly together from shoulder to knee.
He could feel every line of Franklin’s body moving against him as he squirmed.
Even after Franklin stilled, every time either of them took a breath, they rubbed together beautifully.
“Mine.” The word was half lost in a snarl, but Cameron couldn’t have kept it back if his life had depended on it.
Franklin blinked up at him as if he‘d taken leave of his senses.
“I said I have no interest in letting you screw me,” Cameron informed him. “I didn’t say I have no intention of screwing you.”
Franklin pushed at Cameron’s hands, but, even for a human, the movements felt weak and half-hearted.
It might not have been what Franklin had had in mind when he’d reached for his wallet, but Franklin’s cock didn’t seem to mind the change in their plans at all.
Franklin’s erection pressed against Cameron’s leg as enthusiastically as ever.
Cameron smiled “Do you like that idea, sweetheart?” he asked, in his very best purr.
“What the hell do you—?”
Grabbing Franklin’s arm, Cameron spun him around and pushed him back against the door.
Catching hold of the back of Franklin’s neck, Cameron pinned him there.
Franklin’s cheek was pressed against the door now, and their bodies lined up even more perfectly.
Cameron rocked his hips, rubbing his dick against Franklin’s arse, letting him know that Franklin wasn’t the only one who was hard and ready to play.
“I won’t let you screw me,” Cameron informed Franklin. “Not even for a blank check.” He slid his free hand down between them and palmed Franklin’s arse. “But I’ll screw you—for free.”
Franklin pushed back against him. His arse rubbed against Cameron’s fly, and Cameron doubted whether even Franklin knew if he was trying to push him away or encourage him on.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Cameron whispered to him.
A frustrated noise escaped from the back of Franklin’s throat, but he bit back any words that tried to leave his mouth along with it.
Smiling to himself, Cameron rocked his hips again, rubbing his erection against Franklin’s arse in offering. “Last chance, darling. If this is what you want, you have to say it. Lions don’t screw unwilling men.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” Cameron pushed.
“Yes, I’d like that,” Franklin bit out. “That’s what I want.”
Cameron snarled his pleasure as he jerked Franklin away from the door and dragged him unceremoniously across the room. One push had him face down on the bed.
Cameron watched Franklin scramble to push himself up onto his hands and knees, much the same way a much smaller breed of cat might toy with a mouse. But, when Franklin tried to straighten up further, Cameron put his hand on his back, refusing him permission to do that.
Franklin glanced over his shoulder at him. He didn’t appear altogether unenthusiastic about the position he was in, but he certainly looked as confused as hell about how he’d ended up there.
Cameron’s claws immediately fought to be freed from his human form.
The guy probably had no idea what it was like to hit the sheets with anyone who wasn’t so in awe of his cheque book that they’d do anything and everything he wanted, without a single word of complaint.
Well, it was time he learned—time all the guys who turned up in the clubs to watch other men dance and pay them for more than their stage skills—learned better than to treat someone like that.
Anger raced through Cameron, hard and fast, as memories threatened to overtake him.
He shoved Franklin forward, and he remembered all the times he’d been pushed around that way.
The sound of tearing fabric filled the air as Cameron’s claws caught against Franklin’s shirt, and the fabric tore under his touch.
Flat against the mattress once more, Franklin tried to look over his shoulder again. “Have you lost your mind, or—?”
Before he had time to say another word, Cameron was on the bed with him, covering Franklin’s prone body with his own and pinning him down against the blankets. “Problem?” he snarled.
Franklin’s back arched as he seemed to instinctively try to press his arse back against Cameron’s crotch.
“My shirt—”
“If you want me, you’ll take me, my manners, and my claws, all as you find them,” Cameron bit out. “How important is your shirt to you?”
Franklin remained completely motionless, his head turned to one side, his cheek resting on the blanket, as he seemed to think that question through very carefully.
That was the businessman in him. They were always the same, working out the angles, trying to decide what their next move should be, how they could best screw the entire world out of every penny it had, just so they could use that money to rent boys by the hour.
A roar built in the back of Cameron’s throat as he stared down at Franklin’s profile.
Franklin’s eyes fell closed, and Cameron stopped short. No roar hit the air.
The look on Franklin’s face, his scent, the way his body moved against Cameron’s, everything about Franklin called to more than Cameron’s anger with the world.
As much as he wanted to cling to his fury, he also longed to reach out, slide his fingers past the torn shirt and gently stroke the skin he’d bared with his claws. Something inside him was desperate to praise the way Franklin leaned into his touch and—
Cameron shook his head, pushing aside ideas that made no sense, that had no place in the world as he’d learned it really was.
“Please?”
Franklin blinked open his eyes, but he didn’t try to look up from the bedspread.
If he could have kept the word back, he obviously would have, but the submission in the rasped-out word was unmistakable.
Straightening up, Cameron kept his knees on either side of Franklin’s legs, so he was still holding him down with his body weight. From this new position, Franklin’s upper body was completely accessible.
Within seconds, Cameron had laid waste to the remains of Franklin’s ruined shirt. The few tattered remnants of cotton did little to hide any of the skin it had been intended to cover.