Blonde With a Wand (18 page)

She walked back into the living room. “Jasper, I appreciate your generosity, but Orion’s trying to shed some pounds. I realize you won’t be here long enough to thoroughly corrupt him, but please don’t get him started on any bad habits.”

Jasper might not be able to talk, but there was no mistaking the look he was giving her. Quite clearly it said,
Bite me.

 

After the morning he’d had, Jasper was exhausted. He slept all afternoon and only woke up when he smelled chicken warming in the microwave. This time when Anica fed him she watched him like a hawk, so he couldn’t share any with Orion. To make up for that he played hide-and-seek with Orion for a good half hour afterward.

Orion obviously loved it, creeping around corners and pouncing on Jasper, then trading off and letting Jasper skulk around and leap out at him. There was no animosity between them anymore. The chicken-sharing event had obviously clinched the deal as far as Orion was concerned.

Jasper played with Orion partly for the cat’s sake, but mostly as a demonstration for Anica. He hoped she was getting the message that Orion needed a playmate and Jasper wouldn’t be around much longer to serve in that capacity. Instead of putting her cat on a diet she should get him a friend.

Playing was fun but Jasper was still low on sleep. When Anica turned in early, he was more than happy to settle down on the end of the bed along with Orion. He didn’t even have the energy to sneak into the bathroom and catch Anica taking off her clothes and putting on her pajamas.

He heard her brushing her teeth, and then she came out in a flannel gown buttoned all the way up to her neck. She’d also braided her blond hair loosely and tied it with a ribbon. The getup seemed designed to discourage a man from thinking about sex.

Jasper wished he could feel discouraged by her efforts to look plain, but instead he noticed how her nipples made two of the flowers on the gown stand out in 3-D. His still-active human male brain took that outfit as a challenge, not a turnoff.

He was still a cat, though, which meant that it didn’t matter what his libido wanted at the moment. Would he transform again tonight? He had no way of knowing.

If he’d only get another ten minutes, though, he’d rather it didn’t happen at all. Reentry was just too hard on the psyche. When he changed the next time he wanted it to be for good. He’d pinned all his hopes on the witch and wizard from Big Knob. Surely they could pull that off.

He dreamed, as he had ever since his transformation, that he was a man again. His past dreams had involved his condo, the office, and his normal routine. But tonight his dream had to do with sex.

No wonder—he’d gone several weeks without any. Quite naturally the dream centered on a certain blonde, one who owned a sexy red dress and knew how to dance a mean salsa. His erection throbbed as he dreamed that he’d peeled off that dress and lifted her onto a bed that was sort of like his at home except with antique posts like Anica’s double bed.

Eagerly he climbed into bed with her and moved between her thighs. When he caressed her he discovered how wet she was, how ready for him. Thrusting deep, he felt the immense satisfaction of that ultimate connection.

They writhed together, hot and slick with sweat, both yearning for a mind-blowing climax. He moaned and called out her name.

“Jasper?”

The dream drifted away and he kept his eyes closed, wanting to sink back into the dream, back into Anica’s lush body. If he opened his eyes he would see her bedroom through the eyes of a cat, which meant he could see extremely well, but it also meant he was still a cat. He didn’t want to know that right now.

A warm hand touched his shoulder and shook him gently. Anica’s voice hummed with excitement. “Jasper, wake up. You transformed again!”

His eyes flew open, and instead of his cat night vision, he saw the room as shadowy and indistinct. Human sight! He also had the granddaddy of all erections going on, a holdover from the dream. Grabbing a corner of the quilt he covered his woody as he gingerly pushed himself to a sitting position.

Then he looked at the clock. Eleven thirty. He was a man again but he didn’t know how long that would last. He didn’t know how long his erection would last, and that was a more immediate problem.

Waking up in the same bed with the woman he’d been having dream sex with wasn’t helping. He could smell her, almost taste her. She’d moved her hand and was no longer touching him, but his skin remembered how warm she’d felt. He wanted her to touch him again. He wanted her touching him all over, but he had a specific spot that really demanded attention.

“Should I turn on the light?”

“Not . . .” Using his voice felt weird. He cleared his throat. “Not yet.” He had to think, decide what to do next, but all his blood had drained south.

“I could get your clothes, leave them on the bed and go out into the living room while you get dressed.”

“I’m afraid to get dressed. That’s when I changed back last night, while I was trying to put on my clothes.”

“I doubt it was the clothes that made the difference. I think the potion only worked for a short time.”

“You’re probably right, but I just—I just don’t want to take a chance.” Besides, bringing this sexual desire under control was the first order of business. Murmuring together in the dark wasn’t helping, either. But if he let her turn on the light, she’d probably guess what his problem was.

“Can I get you anything? Something to eat? Something to drink?”

He thought about it. Not knowing when he might suddenly revert back to his cat status, he was reluctant to make big plans, like heading over to his condo. Going through the change in the backseat of a taxi didn’t appeal to him. In fact, going through the change while being anywhere but here was a dicey proposition.

Maybe he should set his sights low. “You got any beer?”

“Um, yes, I think so.” She seemed taken aback. “Maybe one or two. I don’t even know what brand they are.”

“I don’t care about the brand. I’d just like to taste some beer. It’s either that or have sex.” He heard the words come out of his mouth and couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken them aloud.

Anica sucked in a breath.

“Whoops.” He had the inappropriate urge to laugh, so he coughed instead. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

The mattress shifted as she slid out of bed. “I’ll get the beer.”

Anica’s heart thumped crazily as she hurried into the kitchen, Orion close at her heels. Orion always followed her into the kitchen with the optimistic hope she’d feed him something yummy. Instead, she picked him up and carried him back into the living room, where she closed him in the coat closet.

She wasn’t sure what had prompted Jasper to say what he did, but she’d been thinking about that very subject from the minute she’d become aware of his transformation. She hadn’t expected
him
to be thinking about it, though. Yet the more she considered the matter, the more it made sense that he would.

First of all, he was a man (again!), and weren’t they supposed to think about sex every four minutes? Something like that. Second of all, he might be a man now, but after last night’s experience he couldn’t count on staying that way.

She certainly wouldn’t advise him to leave the apartment, at least not until several hours had gone by with no change. Essentially he was trapped here with her while he waited to see what would happen. A man with nothing much to do but wait, when finding himself naked in a woman’s bed—well, it just stood to reason what he’d be thinking.

Anica walked back to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and found two bottles of Sam Adams. She held them to her hot cheeks. Whew. So how about her? Was she seriously considering going back in there specifically to have sex with Jasper?

Yes, she seriously was. After all, he’d woken her up with what was definitely a pre-climax moan and then he’d called her name. She’d bet anything he’d been dreaming about having sex with her, and if he hadn’t covered himself with the quilt no doubt the evidence would have been overwhelming.

She longed to be overwhelmed. When it came to Jasper Danes, legendary lover, she might never have this chance again. A good game of mattress bingo would serve many purposes. It would pass the time, get rid of a boatload of frustration—his and hers—and it might soften his heart enough that he wouldn’t try to ruin her once he regained his human form permanently.

There was no downside to jumping into bed with Jasper right now. Okay, he might turn into a cat during the event, but there were worse things. Many men turned into pigs in bed, even though they didn’t actually grow a snout and tail.

She’d take a cat transformation any day over a couple of other sexual misfits she’d had the bad luck to go to bed with. Better a guy who turned into a cat than one who had a foot fetish or was a premature ejaculator.

She wasn’t about to waste precious time drinking beer beforehand, either. Neither of them knew how long before he would change again. She put the bottles back in the refrigerator.

Too bad she’d worn this granny gown, but at least she could unfasten all seven buttons that ended where her cleavage began. She could untie the ribbon holding her braid and fluff her hair, tossing it around to give herself a tousled look. She could dab some vanilla behind her ears and between her breasts.

When she’d done all that, she went through her sexual readiness checklist. Legs shaved—check. Recent shower—check. Condoms in the bedside table drawer . . . were there condoms in the bedside table drawer? She hadn’t had sex since Edward, and hadn’t thought to restock. There had to be at least one left, though, and one might be all they had time for.

Shoot, they might not have time for that if she didn’t get on with it. She might even walk back into the bedroom and discover he was a cat again, which would be a bummer.
Spontaneous
—that was the watchword tonight. She was going in.

She noticed that the bedroom light was on when she entered the hall. She decided to start the conversational ball rolling before she walked in there, mostly because she wanted to hear his voice and reassure herself that she wouldn’t find a cat in her bed instead of a man.

“Jasper, I’ve been thinking about what you said a couple of minutes ago.”

“It was uncalled for.” He came to the door wearing a towel wrapped around his hips. “I . . .” His voice trailed off as he stared at her.

“I think it was totally called for. I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard in ages.” Dear Zeus, he was gorgeous. He’d transformed back into exactly the man he’d been in the restaurant—except for the being-naked part. He was clean-shaven, with great hair and a terrific body. Add to that the obvious benefit of wearing nothing but a towel and you had the perfect setup for outstanding sex.

Jasper’s gaze traveled from her unbound hair to her unbuttoned nightgown. Her nipples peaked under the soft flannel, and she was quite sure he noticed. His nostrils flared and the intensity in his eyes reminded her of the way he’d looked at her across the restaurant table . . . was it only two nights ago? It seemed like a lifetime.

He swallowed. “You didn’t bring the beer.”

“Nope.” She advanced, backing him into the room and toward the bed.

His chest rose and fell as his breathing grew more labored. “I don’t think you want to do this.”

“Oh yes, I do.” If he took a moisture meter reading about now, he’d know exactly how much.

“But something could happen right in the middle of—”

“That’s why we can’t fritter away valuable time drinking beer and debating the issue.” She surrendered to basic instincts and hooked a finger inside the knot of his towel.

He looked into her eyes. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I have a working knowledge of the subject but I’ll bet I could take lessons from you.” Holding his golden gaze she loosened the knot until the towel fell to the carpet with a naughty whisper.

She wanted to look but she was afraid if she broke eye contact, he might bolt. She recognized performance anxiety and it must be a novelty for him, the man who, as Sheila had said, was
that good.

In this situation, though, he didn’t have total control of his body, and at any time it could betray him. He might be willing to abandon the idea of sex in favor of avoiding potential humiliation. She didn’t want to give him that chance.

So instead of feasting her eyes on his endowments, she took matters—and his considerable endowments—into her own hands.

When she touched him, his eyes darkened from gold to mahogany. His penis was thick with desire and his balls tightened as she cupped them in her other hand. Feeling the heft, she shuddered to think that he’d almost lost them to the vet’s knife today.

He cradled her face and leaned close to brush his lips over hers. “I guess you’re committed to this.”

“You betcha.”

“It’s a really bad idea.” His breath caught as she stroked the length of his penis. “But I guess we’ll do it, anyway.”

“I’m counting on it.” She closed her eyes when he leaned down to nuzzle the base of her throat. This was familiar. They’d made out before, and she knew he was good at that.

Then he took the open neck of her gown in both hands. “This is just wrong.” In one swift movement, he tore the material right down the middle. He kept ripping until he broke through the hem and had the whole thing apart and every inch of her exposed. “Much better.”

That
was totally unfamiliar! The thrill of such an unexpected assault left her gasping and even more drenched with need.

His gaze moved hungrily from her aching breasts to the curls between her thighs. “I believe you said we had no time to waste.”

She wanted him so much she could barely speak. “We don’t.”

“Then let’s get to it, woman.” Turning her so her back was to the bed, he gave her a firm push that left her sprawled across the mattress, breathing fast, her legs open, her body completely available to him.