Nischal [leopard spots 9] by Bailey Bradford Read Free Book Online Page B

Preston—it wasn’t a human urge, but the leopard in him craving the taste of Preston’s blood. It was disturbing yet fuelled the intensity of Nischal’s orgasm and he shot a thick load against Preston’s ass.
    “I wanted you to fuck me,” Preston mumbled, his eyelids drifting shut. “S’bad when even my fantasy man won’t fuck me.”
    Nischal’s stomach went cold, so did his fingers and toes as Preston dropped off into sleep.
    Gods, Preston had thought he was fantasising all of that? Nischal cringed and closed his eyes, too. He was a naïve fucking fool, and Preston was going to hate him.
    It was too bad Kapuk hadn’t said anything about what to do if you made your mate hate your guts.
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
     
     
    Preston was dimly aware of being moved, but he figured he was still dreaming or hallucinating, whatever. It was all fine as long as he was feeling good. Other than being tired, and a tad sore, he did feel better than he had in a long while. Sated, even though he couldn’t get fucked in his own fantasy.
    Probably because it’d been so long, he didn’t even remember what a good hard fucking felt like. Preston snorted and rolled into the mattress. It was kind of stinky, and the sheets were scratchy, but it was better than being on the shower floor.
    Except, he couldn’t remember making the walk from the shower to the bed. All he had were flashes of being held against a furry chest and—
    Preston’s heart beat so hard it sounded like a tiny drummer was in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself not to panic. Chances were, he’d hit his head and had a concussion. He’d had a nice, erotic fantasy about a—well, about a too-hairy stranger who had definitely been fascinated with Preston’s tits.
    As if thinking about them woke them up somehow, Preston’s nipples began to throb with a dull ache.
    What the fuck? Preston peeked out of one eye. It didn’t do much good because the sheet and blanket were drawn up to his armpits.
    He shoved them down and bit his lips when he saw the raw, dark pink flesh. Preston rolled onto his back and fear turned him cold as he saw that both of his nipples were swollen and abraded.
    He couldn’t come up with any way of falling that would have left those damned things so well used-looking. Preston touched one with a shaking hand and the sensation was almost too much. That skin was overly sensitised and he thrust his hips in response, his body already craving more.
    But his head was having quite the freak-out. What if he’d done that to his own nipples? Preston touched one again and hissed. What if I didn’t do that to myself? What the fuck then?
    Neither option was appealing. He didn’t remember pinching his tits, but… Hazy images darted through his mind and Preston scrambled backwards until he was almost standing against the headboard.
    Someone was in the bathroom.
    And Preston was naked. He glanced down. With an erection. What the fuck is wrong with me?
    There’d been a man, he remembered in bits and pieces. Scruffy guy, with a gnarly beard and matted hair. He’d been bony-skinny, but he’d had the prettiest eyes, like old gold, tarnished and so similar to—Preston snapped his head back and thumped it against the wall. The man did not have the same goddamned eyes as that snow leopard that had licked him!
    “That’s it. I was thinking about the leopard while, uh…” Preston stopped his raspy mumbling. No need to confess that out loud. Still, he could see where he’d got confused. He had to have been fantasising, though. The shower was running still because he’d left it on, not because there was anyone in there.
    Of course, the main door was closed, and locked. Why did he have the feeling he’d been scolded like a recalcitrant toddler over leaving it opened?
    Why are my nipples fucked up?
    Preston was back to the certainty that he wasn’t alone in his room. He quickly found himself doing the very thing he always yelled at characters