Sneak Peak at upcoming Lion Shifter novel (A little on the steamy side)

 

Thunder rumbled overhead, the rolling roar of it making the house tremble. Despite the curtains over the windows, light flashed in a bright wave of color as it streamed through them. Finally, all the prayers they’d sent up for rain had been answered by way of this furious storm.

“Come on, come on!”

Shaking his head at Misha’s antics, Ira watching him rush out the front door and into the storm. All day they’d watched the thunder rumble in the distance, pinking up the sky, slashing it with blue. Now,  raindrops fell in a heavy torrent, clattering on the roof in a wild dance of sound. Ira watched as Misha danced it in, arms raised to the sky, celebrating the deluge.

It truly was a thing to celebrate, especially for their mates fighting a brushfire that had swept through a portion of the hunting ground. They’d gone three weeks without rain. Three very long, windy weeks of scorching temperatures that had leached away what little moisture had remained in the earth.

It was no wonder Misha had rushed out to twirl in it. Air conditioning was nice, but there was always that heavy layer of stickiness that clung to them whenever they left the house. Even from the doorway Ira could appreciate the drop in temperature, the warmth no longer completely oppressive. Though Misha was a blurred whirl of color, Ira could appreciate his enthusiasm too, the lion always going out of his way to make Ira laugh, smile, or pause to take a moment to enjoy something beautiful.

Like him.

No doubt about it. Misha was one of the most stunning lions Ira had ever seen, and one hell of a remarkable hunter. While Ira’s size occasionally made him clumsy and left him tripping over his own feet, Misha was built more like a lioness, with the skulking skills of one too. He had their grace, even when he was in skin, and judging from the way he was moving out there, he’d have it in other activities too, ones more suited to a nice, soft bed.

“Come on!” Misha beckoned from his place among the storm, a rumble of thunder nearly drowning out his muffled voice. Ira doubted he’d hear if Ira answered back, so he just chuckled, even as Misha turned away from the storm and ran at him.

Soft rainwater spray proceeded him, his bare feet slapping against the wet stone floor. Ira resisted for only a moment when Misha grabbed his hand and tugged him down the stairs into the pouring fury of rain.  When that first burst of stormwater hit it was a shock to his skin. Cold. As icy as the air conditioner with a crisp, coolness that Ira could easily lose himself in. It flowed through his hair and down his face, sticking his clothes to him.

There was a sure fix for that, if he dared.

Everything was foggy, grayed out between the drops, Misha would have to be staring awful hard to see the too soft fold of his belly bulging over his lap. The air felt electric, charged with the ions on the storm. Ira grasped the hem of his t-shirt and yanked it off over his head, his jeans soon joining it in a nearby puddle. He hesitated at his boxers though, the material clinging to him as Misha took his hands and laughingly got him turning in circles beneath the rain.

“This feels amazing!” Misha shouted.

“You’re crazy, you know that!”

“Maybe, but we only get one life to live.”

Thunder felt different when you stood in the heart of it. The ground beneath their feet seemed to rumble and twitch as lightning shot in forked streaks along the smokey gray heavens. Misha’s lightly curling hair was plastered against the side of his face, one thick chuck slashed across his nose and one bright eye, the intensity in his gaze breathtaking when Ira brushed the hair away.

His lips moved, but Ira couldn’t hear the words that spilled from them so he leaned closer, shocked when Misha’s fingers slid into his hair and tugged his face down until their lips met.

“Kiss me,” Misha murmured against his lips, voice faint and nearly drowned out by the raindrop splattering against their skin.

Didn’t have to tell him twice.

Ira had seen kisses but he’d never done it before, though it looked simple enough, just the mashing of lips that stayed pressed together until one or both people drew back. Nothing prepared him for the way Misha’s lips parted and his tongue poked out, tracing along Ira’s upper lip before darting away. Fair enough, he could try that too.

Misha tasted of the storm and something sweet and vaguely grape, though Ira hadn’t thought they had any more in the refrigerator. Someone had frozen a bunch, the four of them sucking on those cotton candy grapes like Jolly Ranchers anytime they needed something cold.

Their tongues met in a slow dance of exploration, soft, gentle thrusts that grew deeper and more urgent the longer time went on. Somewhere in all that the rumble faded, though the storm still raged around them. Every shred of his focus and attention narrowed down to Misha’s lips, his tongue, and the way his finger’s felt gripping the strands of Ira’s hair tight in his fists.

Even when Misha let go, Ira could still feel them there, lingering like the soft sting of Misha’s nails drawing down his chest. His eyes flew open when they reached his thighs, and he blinked the rainwater from them to see Misha on his knees, head thrown back, gazing up at him and the sky as the water poured over his face.

Swallowing hard, Ira didn’t know if he was supposed to join him in the mud of stand still, so he stayed put, since Misha was still holding on to him. Those soft hands slid up and down his legs, ran over the sides of his boxers and….

Holy shit.

Misha pulled them down his legs until they were trapped around his ankles, his cock bobbing just beneath his belly, level with Misha’s gaze. Through the rainy haze he saw Misha smile at him and lean closer, then warmth engulfed his cock, Misha sucking the rainwater off him. The slickness of Misha’s tongue pressed against the underside of him got him harder than he already was.

Now it was his turn to caress hair. To slide his fingers into wet strands. To pet and play and gently caress the sides of Misha’s cheek and neck, before crushing Misha’s hair in his fists when the other lion hummed around him.

His knees threatened to buckle, the pleasure sensations were so overwhelming he couldn’t make any sense of what he felt. It was like lightning had struck him and every nerve ending had come alive. His body tingled, the skin on his arms stood up, and a shiver tore down his spine, making him gasp and buck a little.

Pinpricks of pain dotted his rear end, from Misha’s nails again, no doubt. He used them to propel Ira forward, deeper into his mouth. Gods but that was one hole that felt like heaven, all warm and suckling, drawing the cum up from his nuts. Misha hammered again and Ira hunched over him, braced himself on Misha’s shoulders and came so hard the world spun.

No one had ever, ever done something like that for him, though he’d seen other lions in the bunkhouse perform that act many times. No wonder lions roared and looked shaky as hell by the end of it. Ira felt shaky, off balance and very aware that the ground seemed much too far away.

Raising his head, he saw Misha watching him, his pink tongue darting out to clean the remnants of Ira’s release from his lips. He wanted to ask if he’d done it before, and how many lions he’d done it with before him, only, Ira realized with sudden clarity that he didn’t need to know and didn’t truly care as long as Misha continued to do it with him.

And only him?

Maybe.

His lion, usually so placid and non-plussed, rumbled with the stirrings of jealousy. Had Misha done this with Pike yet?

Doubtful.

But had he done it with Nathan?

That seemed more likely given the closeness between the two, but they hadn’t announced themselves as mates yet, so Ira still stood a chance….didn’t he?