Chapter 26 - Sexy Spy Time

When Flint pulled into the duplex’s driveway beside Bryce’s Jeep it was fully dark outside and Goldie was dozing lightly against the passenger side door. He let the engine idle as he turned to look at her in the light of his dashboard panel.

Her eyes were closed, her heart-shaped face relaxed in slumber, blonde hair tucked into a twist behind her head and a spare hoodie of Flint’s rolled up to serve as her pillow. He couldn’t wait to snag it when she left and bury his face in her scent. Oh, Bear.

Or he’d thought she was asleep. But she spoke, eyes still closed. “Flint, tell me about the Prowl.”

He was surprised into harsh honesty. “It’s all about sex.”

Goldie’s cheeks flushed. “That’s why I kissed you that first night.”

Flint put on a show of dismay. “Not my flawless good looks?”

Goldie blushed deeper as she glanced down at the seat between them. “Well, they didn’t hurt.”

Then she raised her gaze to meet his and Flint damn near lost his breath, his sense, his whole damn mind. Those clear blue eyes that could never hide from him no matter what lies Goldie told in self-defense, they saw right through to his soul in just the same way. And the idea that Goldie found him attractive in spite of his resting grizzly face and gnarly scar and being six times bigger than her and a fucking bear. It undid Flint in a way he’d never expected to be undone. This was no switch/Prowl thing. This was… more.

The interior light clicked off, triggering something in Flint to reach out. He pulled Goldie’s whole subtly-glowing body right over to him, turned them both so she was sideways on his lap and his arms were wrapped around her slim torso. (mine.) Small, slender fingers furrowed through his hair, clung to his shoulders, and set his bear to purring. (all mine.)

In the dark his mouth found hers, thirsty for her taste. But the moment their lips touched everything changed.

A flash of shamrock light flared and filled everything, even him. The light, the magic, whatever the fuck it was, Flint could feel it seeping into every molecule of his body and soul. This woman. Her magic. She kissed him deeply and broken things inside him repaired themselves to be stronger for her. Her sweet herbal scent swirled around him, taking root alongside his most primal instincts to protect, provide, procreate.

Goldie seemed to be feeling the intensity as well. Breathy moans and mewls slipped from her, and her sweet ass perched on his lap. Oh, fuck, he wanted her. Wanted everything she was willing to give him.

The green glow faded but Flint’s hands still roamed over Goldie’s body, sending shockwaves through his arms with every new curve discovered, with each sensitive spot that caused his woman to gasp and turn her tender lips away just so Flint could follow them and pull her back to him, pull her deeper.

She reclined in his arms, one of them cradling her head as the other explored the soft skin just above the waistband of her pants. Goldie’s stomach fluttered in response and Flint couldn’t resist going higher, pushing her t-shirt up to reveal a basic white bra, her nipples visible against the thin cotton. His breath shuddered out of him as he softly cupped Goldie’s breast, his thumb strumming her nipple. She arched into it. He closed his mouth over hers.

Goldie’s soft moan had Flint’s cock throbbing, lengthening, creeping down the leg of his jeans like it could get out and touch her. Her slight weight shifted, pressed down, shifted again, and Flint realized with surprise this his mostly sweet, sometimes shy little Pumpkin was grinding on him, her hips rotating in a primitive rhythm he wanted nothing more than to join.

His hand reversed direction, made quick work of the button and zipper on her pants. Goldie gasped into his mouth. “Yes. Oh god, Flint, touch me.”

Flint couldn’t oblige her fast enough, backing his head away just long enough to catch a glimpse of the sexiest white-with-pink-flowers cotton bikini panties he’d ever fucking seen before Goldie used her slender hands to bring his mouth back to hers. She held his face as he growled with the first feel of her downy curls, his fingers tunneling towards the promise of heaven on earth.

It was Goldie who pulled away this time, her voice urgent, desperate. “Please, Flint. I need you.”

Didn’t she know she had him? Flint’s passion fired hotter than jet fuel and he growled again, seizing Goldie’s hair in his hand and pulling her head back so that he could feast on her throat just as his other hand made contact with soft, slippery flesh. Just as his whole insides flipped and he felt like he could burn a hole in the world with the wonder of what he felt for this woman in his arms.

Goldie cried out above him, a sexy fucking groan that had his cock hardening further. His hand in her pants was restricted, but Flint was determined, maneuvering two fingers to spread her open as the other found her clit like an orgasm-seeking missile and started rubbing little circles to the tune of Goldie’s mewling cries.

He felt her getting wetter, his finger slipping down to gather juices that let him slide easily over the sensitive nub of flesh trapped between his digits. Fuck, what was she doing to him? Flint pulled back far enough to glimpse Goldie’s face, the pleasure he saw filling his cock to rock-hard, and had to have his mouth on hers again. He used his grip on her hair to steer her lips back to his, his cock throbbing again with her gasp at his firm handling.

Her moans and sighs changed tone to shallow and tense, a woman on the edge of release. Flint gave her nowhere else to run. I got you, Pumpkin.

He flicked, caressed, teased, and rubbed until finally, with the sweetest, most plaintive cry he’d ever heard from a woman, she shattered to pieces in his arms. Shaking, moaning, grasping at his shoulders as the flesh beneath his fingers quivered and spasmed and Goldie’s body twisted in pleasurable abandon. All Flint could do was stare, and reel with the realization that what they'd just shared had meant more to him than all the sex he'd had in his life to this point.

She came down and Flint relished every second of sensation, the feel of her sinking soft into his arms, her muscles releasing their tension. The slender fingers grasping his shirt gradually loosened their grip as Flint eased his hand from her pants and put the fastenings to rights. They were so taking this somewhere more private. He was going to show Goldie how he felt, for real. No more holding back.

A knock at his window caught both their attention, the sound cracking through their lust, their mindlessness. Flint looked up and found the glass so fogged he couldn’t see through it. No idea who was out there. Goldie jolted upright and out of his arms before he rolled the window down, set to give his brother a piece of his mind. Damn cub should know better than to be knockin’ on steamy windows.

Except it wasn’t Bryce. Darby. She was the worst person who could have found them. “Hey, Darby. What’s up? Goldie and I just got home.”

The perfectly-drawn arch of Darby’s left eyebrow rose along with one side of her mouth in a smirk. “Sounded like it. Y’all see that weird green light?”

Beside him Goldie ran her hands through her hair and shoved Flint’s rolled-up hoodie into his hands. “No. What light?”

Darby glared at her sister. “Seriously? That huge green glow that Riot and I saw from blocks away. It had to have been right around here. Like from right here.”

Goldie shrugged, her eyes meeting Flint’s as she lied. “Didn’t see a thing.”

Goldie pulled the door handle to get out and Flint got a glimpse of Riot waiting on his bike on the far side of the driveway. “You’re just getting home?”

Darby rolled her eyes. Dismissing him. Darby said something about Brittany that he couldn’t quite hear, and Goldie looked over her shoulder to give Flint a sad smile as she walked up the stairs with her sister and into the duplex.

As soon as the door shut behind them Riot was backing his bike up and tearing down the street. Flint’s frustration rose. Between Darby’s stalker and the vampires running rampant, it was imperative they have reliable shifters watching over the sisters. He’d be damned if some rebel without a clue was going to fuck shit up. Time for him and Riot to have a little conversation.

It was harder to track the puma in the dark, but at least this time the big cat stuck to the main roads and Flint was able to keep his single red taillight in view. It wasn’t until he saw Riot turn off the highway that he realized they’d made their way to the motel where he’d first met Darby.

Flint didn’t pull into the parking lot but instead just off the road past the turn-off, so he could see through the brush to where Riot was parking his bike in the same place he had a week ago. The big cat shifter dismounted, reached in the saddle bag, and pulled out a brown paper sack that was crumbled and scrunched around whatever was inside it. Then, tucking the package into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, he strode to a door and knocked.

The woman who opened the door, Flint could see, had probably been beautiful once. Her dull blonde hair was chopped into a do-it-yourself pixie cut, and there were dark purple circles under her exhausted eyes, but the bone structure under her sallow skin was strong. She greeted Riot with a weary smile as he handed her the brown-paper package from his jacket and pointed to his bike as if he was going to leave.

A little cherub face showed up at the door. Blond hair like the woman beside him, with a buzz cut Flint was sure had also been done at home. The little boy wore glasses and had a wide smile that lit up bright when Riot squatted down for a hug. Flint glanced at the woman’s face for a clue as to whether the kid was theirs together, but she was looking in the bag Riot had given her.

Riot stayed crouched for another minute, then tousled the kid’s hair and waved goodbye as he returned to his bike. Flint ground his teeth. So Riot was peddling drugs, huh? And no money had changed hands, which he’d bet meant Riot would be back to collect his payment from the mother after the little boy was asleep.

Flint’s rage grew as Riot blew out of the parking lot and back onto the highway, passing him without a glance. The fucking cat thought he was so impervious he didn’t even have to watch his back? Flint was about to rub that shit in his face.

He pulled out a few car lengths after Riot but caught up fast, leapfrogging around cars whenever the coast was clear until he was right on the big cat’s bumper. And he didn’t stop there, running up until he was inches from the bike’s back wheel and flashing his brights so that Riot would have no choice but to get off the road and face him.

Riot didn’t waste any time, yanking the bike to the shoulder and skittering across gravel that kicked up hard against Flint’s bumper, pinging off the chrome. He angled the bike across Flint’s path as he came to a stop, ripping the helmet off his head and stalking towards the SUV. Flint was ready for him, flinging the door open and heading to meet the big cat, ready for a showdown.

For once the semi-silent shifter had his words at the ready. “What the fuck is your problem, man? You coulda killed me!”

Flint grinned at the thought. “Better luck next time.”

Riot looked at him like he had two heads. “I don’t even know what your beef is with me. I eat the last cookie or something?”

Flint scoffed. “You’re a piece of shit. First you almost kill a guy and now you’re making brown-paper deliveries to single moms? Let me guess: you’re just bringing them some fresh fruit.”

The puma’s face went blank. Too blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. No, better yet, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Keep your big bear nose out of it.”

No way was Flint taking orders from this pussy. Not without some reciprocation, anyway. “Stop hanging around Darby.”

Riot laughed in his face. “So next time she texts me for a ride I should just tell her to take a bus? Chivalry ain’t dead, man, just slacking. What the fuck are you doing up in my business instead of keeping an eye on your precious switch? You really trust Baby Bear to handle it?”

Flint ground his teeth on the worry that stewed in his gut. Of course he trusted Bryce. All the same, he knew he was done here. It had been stupid of him to confront the guy in the first place, but at least now they both knew where they stood.

He ended up back at the duplex, on Bryce’s side. His brother was playing video games at max volume so Flint ripped him a new one; how the fuck was Bryce supposed to listen out for Darby & Goldie if he couldn’t hear a damn thing? And no, putting his headphones on wasn’t the solution! Moron. Jesus fucking Christ, but the cub must have been napping on the day the Great Bear was handing out common sense; it was just dumb luck he’d been first in line for charm.

Too antsy to play XBox with Bryce, but too wired to relax in bed, Flint spent the next few hours puttering around the duplex, completing odd jobs and trying to take his mind off Goldie. He replaced three dead light bulbs and one that looked like it might be thinking of going soon, tightened up the leaking faucet in the second bathroom, and finally settled in at the pass-through, on the living room side, where he could heckle Bryce and polish their grandmother’s silver. It was long overdue for some love.

When Flint turned eighteen, Molly and Hernando had given him the keys to the duplex that had used to be Bruce’s house. Jameson had lived on the other side for years and had kept the place up ever since Flint’s uncle’s death. There hadn’t been much inside, a couple pieces of antique furniture and a box of Christmas decorations, a few random possessions of his uncle’s that had been left behind. But one case had drawn Flint’s attention immediately.

It was nothing special, the glossy wood finish banged-up on the edges, the gold paint flaking off the scroll pattern on the lid. Even the silverware held inside was just your regular, run-of-the-mill factory set. The only pieces that showed any character at all were the carving knife and fork, with their handles of filigree that looked like oblong cages covered in winding vines, like nothing Flint had ever seen before. He took his time with the polish, weaving the rag between the intricate filigree lace and rubbing gently until it shone. By the time he finished and looked up, Bryce had quit playing video games and gone to bed. For all Flint knew he hadn’t even said goodnight.

With a yawn, Flint decided to call it a night. He left the silver spread across the pass-through, resting on a cloth. He knew he should put it away or risk undoing all his hard work, but dammit, it had been a long fucking day and he was tired. Shit, he still had to put fresh sheets on the bed, he saw as he stumbled blearily into his old room.

For a moment he stood there waiting to see which would win, the urge to hibernate or domesticate. In the end Flint simply spread his blanket neatly over top of the mattress and awaited sleep. He’d make the bed in the morning. His last thought as he drifted off was the realization that Goldie’s head was mere feet from his, but it might as well have been a mile.