Lucy watched as a sinewy, jet-black cat slid upwards into the man she loved.

The process was as seamless as it was impossible. One moment she was cradling the face of the beast from a fairytale and the next she was holding the face of the prince.

“Lucy,” he said. His voice sounded different from usual, huskier.

His brown eyes were almost hypnotic.

I’m so happy. I’m so afraid.

She was hearing his thoughts, she was sure of it. Or maybe hearing them wasn’t the right way to describe it. Maybe she was feeling them, through his skin.

“I’m scared too,” she whispered. “And I’m so glad you’re happy.”

Surprise brightened his expression.

“You know what I’m thinking.”

“Sometimes,” she smiled. “But only since last night.”

She felt the color darken her cheeks with embarrassment.

“Is that, uh, normal for you?”

She shook her head. “It’s never happened to me before.”

He smiled.

Good.

She smiled at his possessiveness and it was his turn to look embarrassed.

“Should I even bother talking out loud?” He was only teasing, but she felt bad.

“I wonder,” she said to herself, removing her hands from his face.

An expression fleeted across his features but she heard nothing.

She put her hands on his face again.

Mm, nice, he sighed inwardly.

Wow.

“It’s only when I touch you,” she mused.

Then his hands were covering hers, holding them to his face.

I don’t want to hide anything from you. I love you, I always have. I don’t know why this is happening, but I’m glad. I will never let you go again.

“I love you too,” she said. The words felt so good to say, she had held them in for so long.

His happiness poured into her - wordless and beautiful, filling her with its light. She felt as if she were an overflowing vessel.

And then he was kissing her, sweetly tenderly.

She kissed him back, wishing she could let him see her heart as she was allowed to see his.

His kiss turned hungry, insistent. His emotion gave way to raw need, washing through her until she wasn’t sure if it was his implacable desire she felt or her own.

She was unconcerned to find herself lifted up, placed down in front of a huge, moss-covered rock.

He bent to slide her dress over her head and she lifted her arms to help him.

God, so beautiful.

She was happy, so happy that he was so pleased with her generous but unexceptional figure when he had a bevy of glamorous “all American” women throwing themselves at him daily.

He removed the last of her clothing and she had no space left in her brain or body for rational thought.

Mine, she heard him think as he bent to lick one of her stiff nipples into his mouth. The roughness of his beard tickled her as he moved lower, rubbing his face into her belly in a way that reminded her of the panther.

She laughed happily, for once not embarrassed of her soft tummy.

Mine, he thought again, happily.

Then he was lifting her up, cradling her head as he laid her gently on the boulder.

She looked up at his kind face.

“I love you,” she whispered again.

“I love you, my angel,” he whispered roughly. The words were echoed in his thoughts, so that they sang like a chorus in her heart.

As many times as she had dreamed of saying these words to him, Lucy had never once imagined she would hear them back.

He kissed his way down her body, a stream of exultation washing over her with every inch he worshipped with his mouth and hands and thoughts.

Mine, he thought again, triumphantly, as he parted her thighs.

She closed her eyes and tried not to scream with the pleasure as he slowly and lovingly began to lick her open sex.