Sunday Snog 253: The Eyes of Bast (#shifter #pnr #blackcat)

Happy Sunday!

I have a luscious kiss excerpt for you today from my paranormal erotic romance The Eyes of Bast. This book is a shifter tale, with a difference. The cat shifter hero wasn’t born human!

Once you’re done with my kiss, head over to visit Victoria, for more sexy snogs!

Trust your dreams. Follow your heart.

Shaina Williams' grandmother bequeathed her that wisdom, along with a old pendant from the Islands, carved from an ocelot's tooth. When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she'd set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice, She discovers she's caged a magnificent black tom, but the cat inexplicably vanishes after she tends to his wounds. Seeking the errant feline, Shaina encounters instead a handsome stranger whose slightest touch sets her body on fire. As the day dawns after a night of ferocious passion, her mysterious lover is forced back into his true shape - the tomcat she'd rescued.

Born a cat, Tom was transformed into an unwilling shape shifter by a sorceress who craved a human plaything to satisfy her perverse lusts. Centuries old and irresistibly powerful, Delphine Montserrat will stop at nothing to find her runaway familiar. Shaina vows to do whatever is necessary to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate – even though it might mean losing him forever.

Before I could stop him, he was standing in front of me, looming over me. I had no sense of threat, though. I caught the heady scent of male sweat, woven with the sharpness of crushed vegetation. I felt the warmth radiating from his body. I felt his power, sheathed, hidden, bubbling beneath the surface.

“You’re blocking the door, Shaina. You’ll have to move if you want me to go.”

Wordless, lost in the storm of emotion swirling through me, I stepped aside. He flipped open the deadbolt.

“Goodbye, beautiful one.”

“No…”

I didn’t intend to speak. The one-word plea emerged without any conscious decision. I reached for him, grasping his arm to hold him back. Some part of me knew that I shouldn’t, couldn’t allow him to leave.

Electricity shot through my arm, sizzled down my spine and ignited in my sex. I gasped.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” With one finger, he tipped my face toward his. His eyes were emeralds set in ebony. They were so familiar—I knew this stranger—recognized him at some fundamental level below rational thought.

Heat hummed through me, rippling out from that tiny spot on my chin where our skin met. I was acutely aware of my bare flesh under the thin cotton, my nipples gathered into tight, throbbing knots, my thighs damp with fluid leaking from my cleft.

I held his gaze, allowing him to see the raw need he inspired. I was totally naked, open, silently inviting him to take me.

He bent to me. His breath warmed my cheek as I held my own in anticipation. Then his lips met mine and reality exploded into a riot of lush sensation. Colors flared around us, scarlet, vermillion, grass-green, velvety jet. A thousand scents teased my nostrils—the sweetness of fallen blossoms and ripe earth, summer-baked hay and rust-tinged water running over smooth stone. Sparks danced across my skin and burrowed beneath, racing through my blood to swell and soak me.

Just the chaste press of his closed lips had this effect. When he opened to slide his tongue into my mouth, a fever swept over me. I grabbed him, wrapping my arms around his back, plastering my body against his, mashing my hungry breasts against his solid chest. I wanted total contact. The parts of me that weren’t touching him felt lost, abandoned. A rigid bulk prodded my belly. I squirmed against him, thrilled by the promise of that hardness.

His tongue flicked across mine, rougher than I’d expected. He devoured me as though he was starved, gnawing on my lips then plunging deep inside. I felt every move in my pussy, as if that agile tongue rasped over my pulsing clit instead of my palate. My nipples were so tight they hurt. I ground my pubis against him, already trembling on the edge of orgasm.

I wanted—oh, how I wanted him! His mouth on my breasts, his tongue circling my clit, his cock driving into my liquefying depths! At the same time, I didn’t want the kiss to end. He tasted of the Chardonnay, sweet and spicy. He made me drunk. The world whirled around me as he sucked my tongue into his mouth then bit down until a hint of copper mingled with the wine.

“Oh…” I moaned into his mouth, only half in protest. He pushed the kimono out of the way and let his hands wander over my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I was ready to burn.