Page 33 of Purrfectly Outfoxed

“Not like that,” I rasp, positioning myself behind her. “Need to be inside you when I come. Feel your tight cunt milking me of every drop.”

“Jasper—”

I slide into her in one smooth thrust and we both groan. She’s soaking wet, and the feeling of her wrapped around me is so perfect it almost hurts.

“Is this what you wanted?” I ask, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. “Wanted me to fuck you like the bad kitty you are?”

She moans, pushing back against me. “Yes—god yes?—”

I set a brutal pace, one hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise, the other tangled in her hair. Every thrust sends pleasure rocketing through both of us, amplified by our bond until we’re both lost to the sensation.

“Harder,” she gasps. “Please, Jasper. Fuck me harder!”

I oblige, pulling her hair to arch her back, exposing the curve of her neck. Something primal rises in me—the need to mark her, claim her, solidify this bond so every shifter who comes near her knows she’s mine.

“Do it,” she cries, reading my thoughts. “Please. I need it.”

My teeth find the junction between her neck and shoulder, and I bite down. Hard.

She shrieks and I let out a low moan—her from the sharp pleasure-pain, me from the overwhelming sensation of marking my mate for the first time. Through our bond, the feeling explodes between us like a supernova. Every nerve ending lights up. Every cell in my body screams mine while hers screams yours.

And then?—

A muffled cry.

The sound of keys hitting the floor.

We freeze, still connected, still mid-thrust, my teeth still in her neck.

Slowly—so slowly—we turn our eyes toward the front door.

Fuck.

Bea is standing in the doorway, one hand pressed to her mouth, her purse dangling from the bend in her arm, her keys on the floor at her feet. And she’s staring at us with an expression filled with shock, horror, and confusion, all mixed together.

For one eternal second, nobody moves.

Then Tabitha and I both have the same thought at the exact same time:Shift. Now.

So we do. While still connected.

I feel the change ripple through both of us—bones compressing, fur sprouting, limbs reorganizing. But we’re locked together by my knot, and the shift doesn’t change that. What it does change is our size and proportions, which means what was once a reasonably comfortable position becomes an awkward tangle of fox and cat, still very much joined at the hips.

We scramble apart—or try to. The knot hasn’t fully set in, but it still makes the process painful and undignified and absolutely horrifying.

Finally—finally—we separate, and stumble backward, disoriented.

Then we both stare at Bea.

Bea stares back.

The silence stretches out, thick and suffocating.

Then Tabitha steps a little closer to Bea and goes, “Meow.”

Just. Meow.

Like that’s going to somehow fix this situation.