Taking the Stage: Soulgirls, Book 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

extending her arm, baring her nakedness to the hard heat in those blue eyes.
    Fire blossomed in her belly, flaring into a bonfire of raw, aching need that spread, consuming every inhibition against submitting to this lord of the jungle. But in this moment, on this stage, in this play, the maiden, seduced by curiosity, would expose her nakedness.
    After all, the tiger was merely a creature of the jungle. Not a man.
    The Amazon in her approved of the idea. Approved so much that Roseâtre could barely discern the purely feminine desire entangled with the innocence of the maiden she was supposed to be playing.
    As if impatient with her slow approach, the tiger eased forward, head butting against her hand. His whiskers stroked her palm as his head rolled against her fingers.
    The role forgotten, Roseâtre stroked the noble brow, feathered over the satiny softness of his ears. Intrigued by the invitation, the tiger continued to crowd closer, until his great face rubbed against her cheek.
    A shudder of pure, undiluted lust speared through her. She climbed to her knees, allowing the tiger to rub gently against her chest and the fur rasping over her nipples was electric. She couldn’t help the sharp gasp, the jerk of inner muscles squeezing against an imagined thrust.
    The maiden wanted to feel the soft, silky fur pressing against her most intimate places.
    And so did Roseâtre.
    The forbidden craving flowed through her as she stroked her hands along his head to his shoulders. His fur caressed her skin, tormented her nipples and excited her sex. For the first time, Roseâtre discovered that sliding her leg over the creature’s magnificent back wasn’t accompanied by the arrested sensation of wariness.
    The great beast stilled as she arched her leg into the air, the music rose in a slow, primitive aria. The prolonged movement, a drawn-out, stop-motion of consuming desire. Her toes pointed to the rafters and she held the pose, arms wrapped around the silken heat sheathing the beast. Her sex ached for the promised contact.
    Everything paused.
    Somewhere, beneath the burning fire lapping at her mind, she thought the tiger was holding its breath. With agonizing slowness that sent teasing tingles of pleasure racing across her skin, she rolled her body onto the cat’s back. They’d practiced this for a week, the descent of her leg, the curling of her torso, until she nearly draped herself against the tiger’s back.
    They held this position, her sex poised, just out of reach until he surged upward, a thrust of such wild muscle that his fur scraped her sensitive nub. The scent of snow and pine filled her lungs. He smelled delicious.
    And then he purred.
    The low rumbling vibration pulsed through her and she forgot the music, the show and the audience as a fierce orgasm stole through her body and she arched upward, stretching her arms to the sky, legs locked around his back.
    Absolute harmony and pleasure rippled through her. In that moment, she became one with the great beast.

Chapter Four
    Anthony pushed his face into the bucket of icy water waiting in the backstage quiet. They’d repeated the opening dance twice more, neither as intoxicatingly seductive as the first. The need to shift beneath her, to roll her onto the stage and drive himself into her, maddened him until he’d abandoned the stage, satisfied with the performance, inflamed by the success.
    The princess’s submission was an act, he reminded himself. All an act designed to seduce the audience, not him. The pain of shifting, jerking bone and muscle out of their customary positions and reforming from cat to man hadn’t diminished the surges of lust. Sweat coated his chest. The stage’s cool vapor tasted bitter in his mouth but failed to dilute the musky scent of her desire lingering on his flesh.
    Straightening, he seized a towel to blot away the water and strode back onto the stage. Denim rasped against his skin. He hated wearing clothes so soon after a shift. They