This is a sequel to my other story, Hotter Than Hell, and a prequel to Black Velvet. That said, they can be read in any order.
DC has sort of been forcing my hand with these. There's some romance, some smut, and a tiny bit of plot. I have mixed feelings towards this story but I do hope some will enjoy it. Title is credited to the Ava Max song. For hedonists, the smut is located about halfway through the story.
It was 7:30 in the evening, guests were pouring in, and as he strode through the dim hallways of the Athens Maritime Building he couldn't help but worry about one thing: Selina tearing up the carpet with her claws.
It was a ridiculous notion, but Alfred had joked about it and now it was stuck in his head. Perhaps it was his nerves; he always got worked up before attending any social event where he had to slip into the gallivanting playboy persona the public expected of him, like a performer that got anxious before going up on stage. He didn't believe Selina would actually pull any of her usual antics tonight, but she could be wild and unpredictable, even if she had promised to behave. In some ways this was part of her charm, but situations like this required restraint.
He changed directions and slipped down the opposite hallway. A quick check in was in order.
"Where are we going? The governor is this way."
Dick walked alongside him, similar height, similar build, similar suit. Not so similar temperament. He was eighteen now, an adult. Technically.
"I need to check on Selina."
"Seli—" Dick froze in his tracks. "What do you mean? You brought Catwoman here? To a gathering of the richest people in Gotham?"
"She'll behave."
Dick rushed to catch up. "Oh, sure, the kleptomaniac will behave. You two aren't dating now are you? I mean, not seriously, right?" When he didn't respond, Dick continued, "You are, aren't you? You've got to be kidding me. I know I spoke of future potential there but not while she's still stealing."
"She's been getting better. Stealing less."
"Stealing less! Great. Maybe she'll claw up some congressman's face instead of stealing his watch."
"She's harmless," he said, and then steered the conversation elsewhere. "Did you speak with the captain of the security detail like I asked?"
"Yeah, yeah. Two men at each entrance and a dozen men inside. Same as always."
"Good."
"I still can't get over the fact that you told her your identity," Dick grumbled. "You know she once kicked me into a fruit stand? She turned my suit into a smoothie."
Bruce ignored him, and soon they arrived at the door to the room Selina was staying in. It was tucked away in a corner of the building, second floor of three but close enough to the festivities to hear the music and rumble of idle chatter. Bruce raised his hand to knock. Three times, loud and clear. "It's me. Can I come in?"
"Go ahead," Selina's voice called out from the inside.
He reached for the doorknob but hesitated mid-turn. "Are you decent? Dick's with me."
A pause. Dick rolled his eyes. "Hold on." There was shuffling in the room, and around half a minute later she called out again, "Come in!"
They stepped inside and the door closed with a clink behind them. Selina stood at the other end of the room, fixing her hair and putting on a pair of pearl drop earrings that matched her pearl necklace. When they were in place, she turned, her movement intelligent and precise. She wore a sleeveless one-shoulder gown of a very dark green color with a slit up the front. It was a simple dress over complex curves, and it did well to emphasize them alongside the creamy pallor of her skin. Disregarding her normal, slightly-messy hairstyle, she'd gone for a short, sleek, and styled look, and her eyes were accented with eyeliner that made her cat-green eyes look even more feline than they usually did. He was accustomed to seeing her either naked or in a catsuit, but there was something inexplicably thrilling about seeing her dressed in formal attire. Frankly, she was stunning.
Selina met his gaze, and a little smirk played at those enticing lips of hers, tempting and teasing. She knew just what kind of effect she had on him. If Dick wasn't in the room with them right now...
She stepped forward with all the grace that he had come to expect from her, sashaying towards him and planting a kiss on his cheek.
"You look good in a suit, Bruce. A normal suit, I mean."
He took her hands in his, squeezing lightly. "You look good in everything."
"Oh brother." Dick groaned and averted his eyes.
Selina side-eyed the former Boy Wonder, and the smirk on her face grew. "He was such a sweet kid back when he wore tights." She tsk-tsked and ignored his annoyed scoff. Turning back to Bruce, she smiled. "Ready to mingle?"
"Almost. Governor Greene's in a room nearby. I want to talk to him about my housing plan and work to get him on board."
"Ah, the less violent side of your philanthropy." She fidgeted with his tie and then strolled towards the door. "I'll be waiting for you downstairs then. Don't keep me waiting too long or I may look for excitement elsewhere." The door shut behind her, but the addicting scent of her perfume remained.
Dick folded his arms and stared at the door. "I give it an hour before she steals something."
This not-so-little charity event was like a smorgasbord for her. Bruce had organized it himself of course. A nice society party. Everything very chic and very money. Fat wallets, expensive clothes, an exotic Chinese jade necklace here, a 100-carat aquamarine Edwardian pendant over there, and was that The Kentucky diamond and emerald ring moving away from her towards the appetizers?
Her lips quirked into a little smile. Oh, she'd behave all right. For today. Tomorrow? Well, she hadn't promised him that.
Selina clutched at her strawberry daiquiri and shifted through the crowd towards a suitable observation point. This charity gala of Bruce's was something he did every year, and at $15,000 a ticket it brought out all the heavy spenders. Celebrities, socialites, politicians seeking to improve their image, the rich, the mega rich. Just people that she generally didn't like. But that was fine, she liked their money and the jewelry they kept in their easy-to-access cabinets.
She'd need to chat them up later. Learn names, neighborhoods, the size of their homes, when and where they liked to go on vacation. People with that kind of money liked to brag—couldn't help themselves, really—and no doubt they'd be even more willing to spill the beans to the girl Bruce Wayne was dating.
It struck her suddenly that dating was an odd term for a couple whose dates consisted of dressing up as animals and beating the hell out of the Jokers and Riddlers of the world, but she shrugged it off. So they weren't normal? Big deal.
"Having fun?"
A man she didn't recognize appeared beside her. Like everyone else at this event he looked like you could cut him open only to find a stack of green dollar bills beneath. Unlike most people at this event however, he was not only young and rich, but handsome as well. Tall but not too tall, with carefree brown hair matched by deep brown eyes, a too-symmetrical face and a light tan to compliment it. Whoever he was he definitely looked good, but there was something about his perfection that was too perfect, too boring. Like a mass produced Ken doll.
Her eyes scanned the room for Bruce, but he must have been taking his time sweetening up the governor. Well, she had a plan of her own to work on and like a mouse to a cat this man had scampered right up to her, so why not start now?
"Not yet," she finally replied, flicking her gaze back to him and offering a promising smile. She'd play with him for a bit, pitch him a curve ball and string him along until she got what she wanted.
"Name's Jacob Osmond." He gave her a practiced smile, flashing her a row of perfect teeth.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Osmond." Did he expect her to know who he was? Then again, maybe she should. She'd been slacking off recently thanks to a certain bat and his stubborn heroism and wonderful...
"Care to dance?" he asked, and she almost felt bad for him. They never knew what they were getting themselves into, how dreadfully easy they made it.
She held out her hand and put in the bare minimum when he took it, dancing slowly, comfortably, easily. The music was light and jazzy, the room dim and cloaked with cigarette smoke. It was beyond obvious what this Mr. Osmond wanted, and he expected her to play along as if she didn't know. He led, she followed, and when the time was right and the opportunity arose, she popped an innocent question that she was fairly certain she already knew the answer to.
"You seem different than the normal rabble at these events. Are you a reporter?"
The man laughed in a way that sounded almost offended. "No, even I wouldn't stoop that low."
"Mmm." She pretended to think for a moment. "Are you in the rackets, then?"
"Would I tell you if I was?"
"You might."
"I might," he agreed. "But not with a girl I haven't shared a proper evening with."
"All right," she said, "keep your secrets. Why are you here? Pardon me when I say that you don't seem like the generous type, but that's not the impression I'm getting from you."
"And that's a deal breaker for you?"
"Not if your cute." Feed a man's ego and he'd tell you his life story like you were his biographer. "Answer the question."
"Initially? To waste my money on a tax break. Now? I think it's rather obvious."
A little too obvious.
"Watch the hand." Upper back was fine. Middle back was ok. But lower back and going lower still was pushing it. "Anything else you like to waste money on?"
He leaned in a bit and she reciprocated. "Do you mind if speak honestly?"
"Please do."
"I collect spoons."
Selina nearly missed her step.
She'd seen a lot of crazies, midwits, and murderous psychopaths in her time as a costumed thief and occasional vigilante, but this guy just about took the cake. Spoons? Give it six months and this nut would be giving the Joker a run for his money. It was a miracle he wasn't already strapped up in Arkham.
"Spoons?"
"Yeah, all kinds. My favorite piece is from 1970s Afghanistan... But if I had a girl like you I could spend my money on her instead. Really spoil her."
"Oh you could, could you?"
"Sure, so long as she showed me her appreciation for it." His eyes darted around conspiratorially, and he flashed her a grin that was likely effective more often than not, dimples and all. "Want to continue this dance back at my place?"
That's what she wanted. His address, that is.
"Maybe. Where would that be exactly?"
"You know the mansion by the Russian Consulate?"
Now that was promising. "That's all yours, huh?"
"Uh-huh."
"Mmm..." She smiled and pulled away, amused at the future prospect of helping herself to those spoons of his. "Perhaps I'll stop by another time."
He called out to her, asking for her name, but she ignored him and kept walking. A big ego and a high libido made things almost too easy. There wasn't much to get out of fooling a chump like that, but there was still a sense of smug satisfaction in knowing just how damn good she was. She felt that familiar rush pulse through her, and she itched to be in her catsuit, infiltrating that mansion of his and stealing through whatever cutlery vault he kept his utensils in. The fact that she was excited over the idea of stealing spoons didn't dampen her mood. At least, not very much.
She'd barely gone four minutes before she was accosted again, this time by a middle aged woman in a red cocktail dress with honey blonde hair and a rope of pearls around her neck that were infuriatingly similar to her own. Short, pretty, and probably a pain in the ass.
"Selina Kyle?"
In the short interval between words she tried to place the woman. She wasn't keen on complete strangers knowing who she was, but nothing came to mind.
"I'm sorry?"
"Laraine Harper."
Selina shook her head. "I don't..."
"You don't know me. I dated Bruce."
Great, an ex. Probably shouldn't steal from this one.
"Ah. Disgruntled?"
Laraine laughed, loud and genuine, her big golden hoop earrings swinging. "No. A little disappointed is all. How are you two doing?"
Well that was certainly a question, but how to answer? It's really strange but also really nice? This is our first "normal" date in two months? Our sex life is fantastic? We beat up bad guys at three in the morning?
"We make it work," she finally said, a hint of humor in her voice.
"Get access to his credit cards yet?"
"Excuse me?"
Laraine laughed again. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not trying to insult you. Hell, I don't blame you for going after his money. I tried to get into his pockets myself but, well, I guess he prefers his women tall, dark and busty. Three dates and he barely even kissed me on the cheek, can you believe it?"
Is that what people thought of her, that she was a gold digger? And is that what Bruce had to deal with?
"Or maybe he just prefers a woman with morals?" she said.
"Huh?"
Selina raised her chin and spoke a little louder. "I said, maybe he prefers a woman with morals. You know, integrity and ethics, that sort of thing."
And who exactly was that, her?
Laraine searched her face, eyeballs scanning up and down, left and right, as if she were looking at a woman who had contracted a deadly disease that had only now begun to show itself. Finding nothing but clear skin, green eyes, and cherry painted lips, she grinned and snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure!"
Not exactly the reaction she expected.
Selina exchanged a few more meaningless words with Bruce's ex and then moved on. People kept filing on in as time went by. The room was more crowded now than it was twenty minutes ago, but the place was huge and fit them all just fine. There was a band playing in the corner, waiters rushing in and out, delivering food and drink from the kitchen while cliques of Gotham's high society conversed in clustered groups about God only knew what.
The entire interior of the old Athens Maritime Building looked like something out of the early twentieth century. Art Deco in its design, with extravagant craftsmanship, upholstered club chairs, a deep red carpet lined with geometric shapes of gold, and an equally gold ceiling. The place reeked of the Roaring Twenties all the way down to the coupe-style cocktail glasses and it didn't surprise her at all that this was Bruce's taste. It was elegant and rich and she liked it quite a bit.
She sat down at a lonely corner table and sipped her daiquiri. In only a few minutes the table had filled up with hopeful men struggling to grab her attention with a "How do you do?" or a "Care for a smoke?" or a "Love the dress," and more than enough requests to get her another drink, to the point where she'd be drunk as a lord if she accepted even half of them.
As she sat and ignored them however, the words of Bruce's ex fluttered back to her, and she couldn't help but mull them over. The money was there. It was a thing, certainly. How could it not be? Bruce was a damn billionaire and she liked to spend money on fine meals and clothes and things for her cats and costumes. But no, there was a whole lot more to it than just his money and gorgeous looks. Initially it had been a playful attraction, a passing infatuation with the one man who was a constant—and somehow enjoyable—thorn in her side.
Around three years of fighting and love-making proved that it was more serious that that. They were an odd pairing, but there was something about that fact that made things work. She'd never put it into words before, but the sensations were there, clear as day, obvious as the sudden submerging of a hand in cold water. When his skin was on hers and his lips were on her neck, or when he would first walk into a room and her mouth curled upwards all on its own? No, the money didn't even cross her mind.
Selina sighed, crossed her legs, uncrossed and recrossed them. On top of a blossoming sense of agitation, she was getting bored. She could mingle and blend into a crowd like this if she wanted to, but right now? She'd rather be stealing spoons or peeling off Bruce's suit.
Her eyes scanned the crowd for what must have been the fiftieth time. There was the blonde trollop from earlier, and there was the sterilely attractive peacock, too. But there was still no...
The doors she'd entered from earlier caught her eye as they swung closed, and whether it was her mind shutting everything else out or if the room had just gone quiet she wasn't sure, but it was as if for a fraction of a second life stopped, the lights dimmed, and all of her attention was on the man who came sauntering in.
That's just how it was with him. Bruce was the kind of man whom your eyes gravitate to even in a sea of bodies. When she found him his eyes were already on hers. She wasn't surprised. And... shit, there was that unconscious smile. She wiped that off her face real quick and followed his movement from behind her glass, almost laughing at the difference between Bruce in public and Bruce in private.
At times he looked dark and haunted. Stoic, severe, with sleepless eyes that made him appear gothic. She loved that look, but right now? He looked gorgeous in his blue suit and red tie, the hundred-billion dollar man with a bright smile that could make a girl's legs weak, at home on a Men's magazine cover or as an all-American dad on a 1950's sitcom.
Smoothing out her dress and patting her hair into place, she stood up to meet him.
It took him less than three seconds to locate her through the crowd of well-tailored suits and expensive dresses. She was tucked away in a table at the other end of the room, alone but not alone, looking bored and drawing attention she didn't want without even trying.
In spite of the sea of people cluttering the room, he found it impossible to take his eyes off her. She had that effect on people, him most of all. She was a handful at times and stubborn as three mules, but when you looked away from Selina for even a moment and then looked back you went through it all over again. You just didn't believe that anyone could be that gorgeous.
She was beauty, sex, and class all rolled up into one tall, self-possessive woman that could steal your heart with one look of her feline-green eyes. Her lips were a dark cherry red, her sleek hair like spilt ink beneath the dim yellow light above her, and the way she sat at the table with her perfectly patrician posture and long legs crossed made everyone else in the room seem wholly and utterly inadequate.
Without giving a second thought to those around him, he started towards her. He vaguely dismissed Dick, exchanged passing pleasantries with others, and waved away offers for drinks by the help. His eyes remained fixated on her as he walked, and when she finally looked up at him, right into his eyes, a smile caught her lips. She hid it behind her glass, then, almost lazily, got up and stepped towards him. The smile was fainter now, more controlled, but still coolly poised upon her lovely face.
Selina met him a short distance from her table, moving with the natural hip-and-leg stalk of a panther, her hips and thighs rolling slowly and seductively. When she was within arm's reach he drew her close, a hand at her hip and another at the back of her neck. She leaned into him. They kissed, and his hand moved to cup her jaw, more possessive than intended. It wasn't a long kiss, but it lasted longer than may have been proper, and when she pulled away from him she smiled, her eyes a little misty and her voice soft—almost delicate if not for the huskiness behind it.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," he replied, returning her smile. "I'm a little surprised you're still here. What have you been up to?"
She shrugged an innocent shoulder. "Drinking. Chatting."
"Make any friends?"
"None that I care for."
"Good. I'll have you to myself then." He held out his hand. "Dance?"
Selina's smile widened. "Yes."
Just as they did in the bedroom, the long and lovely lines of Selina's body fit perfectly against him. She was warm, with her arms wrapped around him, hands clutching at his shoulders and fingertips teasing the hair on his neck. It was of no surprise, but Selina danced gracefully, carrying herself with a sort of proud elegance and such easy poise it was as if she had always belonged in such surroundings. As if, despite her orphaned upbringing and time spent surviving on the streets, she was a natural fixture of such an event, just as much as he was, or the governor, or the fancy glasses and harmonic music that characterized the entire scene.
"Make any enemies?" he asked.
"No," she said, but then her voice raised just a little, as if she were desperately trying to convince him of something. "But I did try to. See, I met a blonde by the name of Laraine Harper. I believe you know of her."
He raised an eyebrow. "Conspiring?"
"Just talking."
"What about?"
"Well... I'll save you the vulgarities, but she seemed to think you were in the closet."
He fixed her with a look and she bit her bottom lip, failing to contain a grin. Dipping her head to hide it, the space between them suddenly felt intimate even within the crowded space of the gala. Selina could be cool as steel or wild as a tiger depending on who she was with, but with him she was one thing and one thing only: herself.
After a short time she spoke again, a hint of amusement coloring her voice. "I met a man."
"He your type?"
"Not at all, but he's got a nice place and I was thinking of paying it a visit later."
Bruce gave her hip a squeeze. "You promised you'd behave. No stealing, no breaking and entering."
"For today. It'll be tomorrow in just a few hours."
"You'll be busy in a few hours."
There was a subtle change in the muscles around her eyes and mouth, giving her a look that could only be described as mischievous. "Oh? Busy doing what, Mr. Wayne?"
"You'll have to wait and see."
"Mmm... All right, but you're lucky I like you. You've no idea what's in that man's mansion just waiting to be confiscated."
"Better than what I have in my mansion?"
"That depends," she said.
"On what?" he asked.
"On whether or not you're in it."
"I'll be in it tonight," he said. "And so will you."
Selina was closer now, and he could feel the warmth of her body more intensely than before, her breasts pressed against him, the depth of her desire obvious.
"Baby," she said, burying her face in his neck, "you're leading me on in front of all these people."
Her breath was hot against his skin, and he could smell the scent of her perfume, spicy and clean. Pleasing. "Do you mind?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact I do. Unless of course you plan on us retiring early for the evening..."
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Maybe I can convince you."
Her lips brushed along his neck, leaving behind soft kisses that made his pulse accelerate.
"Selina..."
She kissed up his neck, his jaw, and then whispered into his ear. "Yes, honey?" Her voice almost made him shiver.
"This isn't the time or place."
"We could sneak into a room for a little while. No one would find us." She smiled. "I'll be quiet. Promise."
"No. This is an important..." He stifled a gasp, instead drawing in a measured gulp of air. Her body was flush against him, her hips deliberately grinding into his while her lips lined his neck with slow, tender kisses, her teeth gently scraping at his skin.
"Mhmm?" she purred.
"An important... event."
"I know. I'm very proud of you for organizing it."
She'd done this before. Whether on a rooftop or at a gala, she always found a way to entice him at the worst possible time. "You're doing it again," he said.
"Doing what?" she asked, feigning innocence.
"Making me want you when I shouldn't."
Selina looked up at him, brows furrowed and her hands clutching his shoulders. "That's not fair."
"How's that?"
"You make me feel the same way," she said. "And I'm not as patient as you are. I'll get mad if you make me wait." She kissed him, soft, so soft it was barely a kiss. "Angry." Another kiss, more forceful. "Absolutely furious." The final kiss lingered, and when she pulled away she looked up at him expectantly, a glow about her face.
It was a gorgeous face. Lovely and proud and hiding behind it a deadly intelligence that had given him trouble more times than he could count. Her eyes sparkled and those red lips of hers were parted ever so slightly in such a way that made it hard not to kiss her right back. He'd always had difficulty denying her anything, and once again he was reminded of why that was.
"You can wait a few hours if I can," he said, a little reluctantly.
"I'm tired of waiting."
So was he, but he tried not to let it show. "It's only been about half-an-hour."
"Only half an hour he says," Selina complained. "Do you have any idea what we can do in half an hour?"
"I've an idea."
"So?"
"So I'll show you later."
She laughed like an angel at that. "All right. God, you're stubborn. What do we do now, hassle some rich friends of yours about donating to charity?"
"Something like that."
"All right," she said. "Let me get my drink."
Satisfied with his victory and looking forward to his later defeat, he turned to follow her, and in the next instant he catalogued a series of events in his mind like screenshots from a roll of film.
Something struck him in the chest, dropping him to the ground as if he had his legs pulled out from underneath him. The jazz music stopped and screams took its place. Through the confusion and pain he registered the shattered window arch above him, and in only a total of one or two seconds knew exactly what had happened. He'd been shot, and he wasn't about to sit around waiting any longer for the second bullet to finish its job. The vest he wore under his suit saved him from the first, but there were no guarantees while under fire. Fueled by experience and determination, he willed himself to get up.
Another shot whizzed by just as he shifted towards cover. More screams. Selina grabbed for him, helping him under the table and putting between them and the shooter a seating booth that wasn't likely to stop anything but the shooter's eyes on them.
"Are you all right?" she asked, a little wild-eyed, but controlled enough to think. Adrenaline was already beginning to flow through her, juicing her up. Selina was no longer the prim and proper lady from before, but an excited wildcat.
"I'll live."
Some of the tension washed away from her face. "The shot—"
"Came from the roof of the Wyman Building across the street. I know. I need to get out of here, find the shooter."
"You just got shot in front of a room full of people. You can't leave."
"Selina—"
"I'll go."
She was right; he couldn't just get up and leave with a crowd of people around watching. But Selina? He nodded to her, and she was gone in an instant, storming past a very confused and very concerned Dick Grayson.
It took her three precious minutes to race back to her room, strip out of her dress, and don her catsuit. Another three minutes and she was on top of the Wyman Building, whip in hand, eyes scanning about in search of the shooter. There was no sign of him on the roof. She wasn't surprised; this entire attempt to find him was a long shot to begin with. Whoever the shooter was would likely be long gone, either via car or on foot.
She frowned. If memory served, the building had three possible exits: two in the front and one in the back. Testing the former, she rushed towards the front and looked down onto the street.
Nothing.
It was unlikely that the shooter would use the back exit since it would be visible from the gala, but...
Before she could turn to inspect the back of the building, a flash of red and blue up the road caught her eye. Two police cruisers were parked, with an equal amount of officers standing on the sidewalk talking to a man. But it wasn't the man they were talking to that interested her, it was the one creeping around them and trying his best not to be noticed that drew her attention. He was so inconspicuous that he wrapped around into conspicuous territory with a big red bulls-eye on his back, and the excited tug in her gut told her that this was her man. It had to be.
The kick of adrenaline, norepinephrine and other hormones coursing through her bloodstream emboldened her. Bruce was okay. The wound wasn't fatal and Dick was there with him. That left one loose end and she was determined to tie it up into a pretty little bow.
Jumping across and climbing the adjacent rooftops, she stalked her prey like a tiger, monitoring his movement until he turned down a sleepy residential street lined with homes and trees along cracked sidewalks. He'd lost his aloofness and was hurrying now, throwing worried glances over his shoulder as if he expected a man in a bat costume to fall from the sky atop him. Granted, this was a completely reasonable assumption for any criminal in Gotham City to make, but what he wasn't expecting was a woman in a cat costume instead.
Selina hit him like a bolt of thunder, sending him sprawling onto the sidewalk. Groaning, he shook his head, then, as if just realizing what had happened, scrambled to get up.
"Don't," she ordered.
He ignored her. She wasn't surprised. A clumsy fist swung at her head. She dodged it and landed a swipe of her claws over the man's face, leaving a number of nice bloody gashes from forehead to jaw.
He howled and then cursed, bringing his hands to his face and pawing at torn flesh. "God dammit!"
"You ruined my evening," she said. "Talk. Who are you and why did you target Bruce Wayne?"
It wasn't quite that easy, of course. She hadn't expected it to be, and hell, part of her didn't want it to be. Anger took root inside of her, heated her with its fury. The intensity of her emotions surprised her, but she didn't question it. Not now.
"I'm going to skin you," he snarled, wiping his bloody hand on his pant leg and looking at her. Hate raged in his eyes, or maybe it was just the blood, but when he lunged at her a hard kick in the gut took the air out of him and knocked him into a nearby tree. Whoever he was he definitely wasn't a fighter. Thankfully his aim with a gun wasn't any better than his martial prowess.
"Do you think you can take the Batman in a fight?" she asked.
His expression wavered. "What?"
"If you can't take him then you can't take me, and I'm not nearly as nice as he is." She cracked the whip above his head, stripping tree bark. "Now talk, or I'll mutilate more than just your face."
He did, but only after trying and failing to run away. A further dose of whip and pavement was all he needed to start squealing.
The man's name was, allegedly, Glenn Cannon. The identification in his wallet backed this up, although there was always the possibility of it being counterfeit. The three twenty-dollar bills she took from him was a nice little bonus for getting her claws dirty.
According to him he'd been hired to do the deed, and when pressed for a name by the sharp sting of her whip, he provided one that surprised her.
"You're sure?" she asked.
Glenn Cannon's features were twisted into a queer mix of both violent hatred and horrible fright. Like he was constantly vacillating between both emotions, unable to decide which to adhere himself to. She flexed the whip to remind him. "I'm sure!" he said, voice quivering. "Are you going to turn me in? You've got nothing on me that'll stick. Not even a weapon." There was a palpable lack of confidence in his own words that made her smirk.
"Not yet anyway," a voice from behind her said.
Selina whirled just in time to see Nightwing land in front of her. She relaxed her grip on her whip and scowled. "Don't sneak up on me, birdbrain. I nearly lashed your nose off."
"You can try."
"I can do more than try, but you-know-who wouldn't appreciate it if I damaged his property. And besides, you need your nose to keep chasing Batgirl's cape."
This seemed to get a rise out of him. "You're one to talk about chasing capes."
"That's right. I caught mine, didn't I?" Police sirens blared from what must have been only a handful of blocks away. Selina grinned and thumbed at Cannon. "Take care of him, will you? I've got something to check up on."
"You've got what to check up on?"
"Don't worry about that, I'll tell Bat everything this scratching post told me as soon as I'm finished. I just need to make a little stop along the way first."
She was feeling better now after taking her anger out on Glenn Cannon and getting a jab in at the former Boy Wonder. The next part of her mission was something she'd been looking forward to since she'd heard the word "spoons" earlier that evening.
Three and a half hours had passed since he'd been shot. A house visit by the doctor, further inspection by Alfred afterwards, and a rundown on current events by Dick left him with little to do but wait for Dick and Selina to get through with their investigation. He'd done some sleuthing of his own on the computer, but he didn't want to get too involved as Batman. Not with something so closely linked to Bruce Wayne, but he knew of the shooter's name and the fact that he'd been hired as a hitman. There were plenty of those in Gotham, but this one didn't have a record. He was either new to his career choice or more connected to whoever hired him than he let on.
And he was in police custody now. They'd take his prints and test him for gunshot residue then grill him for hours, but he doubted Cannon would talk. Not till they had the weapon he'd used, but neither Dick nor the police had found it yet.
Bruce had a good idea who had.
The police wouldn't rough up Cannon like Selina did, but judging by the claw marks on his face, he had little else of consequence to divulge anyways. All that was left was for her to work the information she'd received—and he was confident that she would.
Still, Dick had said she'd contact him later to fill him in. Well, it was later now and he'd yet to hear anything from her besides a sleepy cat emoji sent forty-five minutes ago. An unnecessary surge of worry gripped him, but he shoved it back down. Selina was plenty capable. She just liked to do things her way without his meddling. So long as she hadn't gotten distracted by diamonds there shouldn't be cause for concern.
He exited the Batcave and made his way up to his bedroom. A cool shower would ease his mind, not to mention the bruise on his chest. After that, he'd go out to look for her.
She was on the bed when he walked in, curled up like a big cat in front of a fireplace and illuminated by the faint black and white glow of the television. She was asleep, the remote still clutched in her hand while Craig Stevens and Lola Albright discussed in hushed tones and subtle innuendo the extent of their relationship on the television screen.
Well, that explained where she was.
Stripping out of his shirt and slacks, he sat on the bed and leaned over, running a hand through her hair. She awoke a bit reluctantly, but when she saw him she smiled.
"Looks like I've found a stray," he said. "How'd you get in here?"
Selina stretched, angling her body into his and accepting his arm around her. She was naked in all of her natural glory, her pale skin warm against his, the duvet slipping dangerously low on her chest.
"The butler did it," she said, and then twisted in his arms to get a better look at him. "How's your chest?"
"I've seen worse. The body armor did its job."
"And you're going to take it easy for a day or two, right?"
"No," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I'll be back on the streets tomorrow."
"I'll have to speak to Alfred about that," she yawned.
"You think he can stop me?"
"Maybe not, but I think I might be able to. Even if it takes—" She took his face in her hands and kissed him, her lips sweet and passionate. It felt like a lifetime before she pulled away, and that still wasn't nearly long enough. "—all night."
"It might just work."
"Mm?
"Your plan to keep me here tomorrow night."
"I've thought very long and hard about it," she said, maneuvering him onto his back and climbing on top of him. Her knees rested at his hips and her hands found his shoulders. When she lowered herself atop the hard length of his tool, her eyes widened and her breath caught as a throb of desire pulsed between her legs.
"You've given it a lot of thought have you?" he asked.
"Mhm." She brought her lips to his neck, hot and devouring, sucking at the drum of his pulse. He dipped his head back and pressed a hand to the slender curve of her back, moving it all the way up her spine and into her hair.
Selina shivered against him. The scent of her excited him. She smelled like pleasure itself, like clean spices, obstinacy, and sex. It was addictive, and when she looked up at him desire took hold of him.
She kissed his chest. "Let me take care of you."
Selina slowly slid down his body, rubbing her mouth and nose lightly through the hair on his chest. Her lips kissed their way down to his stomach and over his abdominal muscles, following the goody trail of hair down to his underwear. Keeping her gaze on his, she took the waistband between her teeth and hooked her fingers into it, pulling it down as if she was in no great hurry. But he knew better, and he could feel the desire radiating from Selina like a wave of heat simmering off of a blacktop highway, could see the intensity in her shadowed face and intelligent green eyes.
His manhood was hard as steel, had been since she first kissed him. It pulsed and throbbed with his innermost vitality, a monument to his own masculinity. She gripped it with both hands, twisted and stroked, massaged and pulled. Selina was playing with him, watching his face with rapt interest while she jerked his cock, waiting for just the right moment she was looking for. A confirmation of his undoing, a sign of his unraveling.
Up, down.
Up, down.
Her slender fingers stroked his manhood, skilled and well accustomed to him. A steady stream of pre-come aided her efforts. He groaned, and that was it. She leaned into him and flattened her tongue against his shaft, licking it like a cat licks its own paw, with long, slick glides up and down that thick slab of cock while her hands held firmly at the base, twisting and aiding the process of spreading her saliva. Very slowly, very deliberately, she tasted every inch of him with a teasing smirk on her face, purring while her hands worked and her tongue varnished him with a gleaming layer of spit.
When Bruce groaned again she leaned closer to his member and gave him a loving kiss, pressing her lips to the enlarged crown of his tool. After a second, her mouth parted and her tongue issued forth, twirling quickly around the tip, clockwise at first, then up over his slit to catch a bead of pre-cum; then finally her tongue retreated and her mouth enveloped him in its warm embrace, a wet slide that had all of the muscles in his body tensing.
Her head bobbed, her hands kneaded at his thighs, and that pretty mouth of hers drove him wild. Pleasure sluiced through him, and he exhaled a soft groan, letting go of his frustrations for the week and his inhibitions for the evening. Selina knew what she was doing. Knew how to use her lips and tongue and the suction of her mouth to suck his dick just as well and easily as she could steal a diamond.
"That's good," he sighed, closing his eyes.
Selina pressed her nails into his thighs, and the warmth of her mouth temporarily left him. "Look at me, baby," she said, her voice a husky contralto purr. "I want to see what I'm doing to you."
His eyes opened and met hers, a profoundly perceptible desire in her eyes as she gazed up at him from behind long dark lashes. The intensity of her beauty was beyond words, situated between his legs with her short cropped hair and wicked expression, her full breasts hanging beneath her while the pale light of the television flickered and drew shadows over her face.
Selina looked hot enough to catch the room on fire, but she played it cool and resigned herself to pleasing him with lazy dips of the head, gorging herself on his cock, filling her throat with it, then making a show of drawing her head back, her lips sucking a tight seal around his girth and stopping at the lip of his crown. Her cheeks hollowed inwards, nursing his bulbous tip between her lips, then she was bobbing again, up and down in a rhythm of delicious repetition, his grunts and the television acting as ambience for the lewd sounds of her dedicated slurping.
"Cat..." He groaned, clutching at the sheets and holding on while an orgasm raced towards him, ignoring whatever feeble resistance he threw up, as unavoidable as rain or storm.
Selina smiled and hummed, vibrating around him while she sucked his cock with shallow strokes followed by the occasional deep dive all the way down to the root. It wasn't easy, and she'd had trouble at first during the early days of their relationship, but she had done it plenty of times by now. She was damn good at this. An expert at drawing out his pleasure, at delivering them both into ecstasy. Absentmindedly, he reached down to push away a bang of her hair, but she caught him with a hand of her own, holding onto him while she bobbed and slurped.
There was only so much he could endure. Only so long he could resist her. His free hand reached for her head and this time she allowed it, threading into her hair and holding her in place. There was an excited look on her face, an expression of heady delight as he spent himself inside of her mouth, his cock pulsing, his groans flooding the quiet room and drowning out the television. Selina drank him down as he climaxed, keeping her gaze on him the entire time, her happy tongue wiggling against the underside of his tool.
She swallowed his seed as it came, drank every drop of his cream, gulped down the entirety of essence. One slender hand pumped and milked all the way from the base of his cock to her lips and then back down again, wringing him for all that she could get, like a delicious prize or a sinful delicacy. And when his masculine grunts and exultant sighs ceased, she bent her head low, finishing him off with a few more long pulls of the mouth, the suction of her lips making an audible pop! when she finally withdrew from him.
Panting and sitting upright, he steadied himself with a hand against the bed. Selina smiled up at him, an amused twinkle in her eye and a devious smirk on her lips. She glanced downwards at his tool, noticed a spot she had missed, and brought her mouth to him again.
"Mmmm," she purred, stroking his head and making a show of sucking up a dollop of seed that had leaked all the way down to the base of his shaft. "No más?"
She was unbelievable.
He shook his head. "Give me a minute."
Grinning, she gave his cock one last lazy suck before leaning back with her hands on the bed behind her. She was proud of herself and eager for more. It showed on her face and the way her body seemed to restlessly shift upon the bed. He knew what she wanted, and he had every intention of giving it to her. Long, rough, and hard.
"Selina," he said, his voice stern and commanding. "Lie down."
She bit her lip and did as she was told.
The first touch of his hand against her leg had her drawing in a breath, her stomach tightening and her pussy fluttering. One little caress was all it took. She was like Pavlov's dog—a single touch and she was aching for him, her switch flipped and her juices running like he'd trained her to come apart for him at the snap of his fingers. But she was no longer surprised anymore at how easily or how much she desired him. It came naturally, whether by a word or a touch, or even a mere look. Bruce commanded her body. He knew it, she knew it.
His hand slid under the backside of her knee, pulling her down towards him. Then he was there, nuzzling her thighs with his face, spreading them, pressing kisses higher and higher as he went along, the scruff of his stubble against her skin way more pleasing than it had any right to be. For a moment he just looked at her, gazing at her sex like he was starving. It was pretty pink and wet as a melted ice cube, hotter than hell and dripping just for him. But he was only looking at it, observing while he kneaded her thighs, his rocky breath heating her pouting lips and throbbing clitoris. Her thighs quivered. Somehow his looking was just like touching.
"Bruce," she said, her voice pleading.
His vivid blue eyes flickered up to meet hers, but he said nothing.
"Please. I need you."
He smiled, the beautiful arrogant man. And then his thumbs were spreading her swollen lips, his tongue licking the rim of her entrance. Her head dipped, back arching and hips circling closer to meet his tongue, the wet slide of it against her sex making her tremble.
All night—no, all day. She'd been waiting all damn day for this. Since she first woke up and remembered her date at the gala. His tongue was heaven, his mouth warm and decadent as he kissed her needy pussy like he kissed her mouth, claiming her, owning her. Her entire body glowed with pleasure, her nipples ached, and he soon had her crying out something that sounded very much like his name.
"Thats... so fucking good," she husked, her breath clogging her throat.
Fingers squeezed at her thighs in acknowledgment, and then a thumb touched at her throbbing clit. There was no possible way she could have prevented herself from gasping when he fingered at that sensitive bundle of nerves. He brushed it again, then again, and again, petting the stiff little bead of her clit in sweet circles that made her moan shamelessly, desperately, more desperate than anyone probably ever had been.
"Remember when you teased me earlier?" he asked.
"Yes," she breathed, smiling through her delirium.
"And is this what you wanted, Cat?"
"Yeess." She had to bite back a moan. "Touch my pussy, baby. Make me come."
Stubborn as she was, she wasn't in any position to play hard to get. She needed him. Bad.
Bruce's lips curved almost imperceptibly upwards, and then his mouth and his hands swapped places. He sucked her clit into his mouth, teasing and pulling and making her legs feel like they were made of rubber. Fingers grazed the pouting lips of her pussy, found slick velvet, and then slipped right in. Two of them, long and thick and right up to the knuckle.
"Ohmygod."
Gazing up at her with those incredible blue eyes, he fucked her slowly with both fingers, churning them in and out while he suckled on her clit and gently brushed it with his teeth. Loving, caring, but fucking dirty. He devoured her with his mouth and spread her with his fingers, curling them inside her and making her pussy ripple in such a way that had her gasping for air.
Spasms wracked her body, sweet, endless shocks, her toes curling tight and her back arching in searing hot pleasure. Her chest heaved, her breath caught in her throat, her belly fluttered with desire. Faster, faster, his fingers simulating intercourse, her pussy dripping honey around him. She bucked into him and grabbed at his head, vision fading to black, unable to think or feel anything but what he was doing to her, sending her soaring higher with one little word on her lips.
"Bruce!" she cried.
And she came. Hard. Like a crack in her core that exploded into a million ruinous pieces. Delicious, agonizing pleasure sent her into a spiral of pure ecstasy, trembling through her, making her half-sob and half-scream. She could feel his mouth still on her, applying pressure to her clit, building and building while her stiff nub pulsed between his lips. And he didn't stop, didn't let go. He kept rubbing at her insides with the pads of his fingers, kept sucking on her clit like it was his purpose in life, like he was created just for her, prolonging her orgasm until it was rolling through her in a pleasant wave, intense and gentle and so damn good.
He whispered words of endearment, making her pussy spasm around his fingers and a jolt of pleasure strike at her core. As her orgasm subsided, she sighed and dropped her head back onto the pillow, a dumb smile on her face. It grew wider when she felt his mouth traveling up her body, kissing at her hips, then her stomach and breasts, leaving her erect nipples wet with saliva. She took his face between her hands and drew him to her.
They kissed slowly and affectionately, an equal give and take. One of his hands threaded into her sleek black hair, and then his lips moved to her neck, brushing the swiftly beating pulse in her throat. She tipped her head back on the pillow and groaned, grasping at the back of his head, his shoulders. The feeling of him on the bare expanse of her throat had her feverish, burning up under his touch. And when his other hand slid down her body to cup her mound, rubbing the heel of his palm against her clitoris and sinking his middle finger into her warm wetness, she felt a profound desire that refused to be ignored any longer.
Her back arched off the bed and she made a sound that was hot and needy. Digging her nails into his back, her voice was breathless when she spoke. "You drive me crazy."
Bruce's lips curved into a ghost of a smile. "You've driven me crazy since the first day we met." He kissed her forehead, then his features shifted, growing dark and intense, like how he looked when he had the cowl on. His hand wrapped lightly around her throat. No pressure, but a clear sign of ownership that set every nerve in her body alight with arousal. Her clit throbbed, something in her chest fluttered, and a low, whimpering moan bubbled up from inside her.
"Selina," he said, his voice deep and smoky, pronouncing her name like it was a dirty secret between the two of them. "Hands above your head."
She'd never hear that arrangement of words the same way ever again. In a flash she complied, grasping at her pillow while her breasts heaved and her legs spread wide for him.
"Good girl." He sat up, distinctly beautiful and incredibly masculine in the dim light of the bedroom. The carved muscles, the broad shoulders that tapered into a slim waist—and oh God, the way he fisted his cock and gave it a single stroke from base to tip must have been the most erotic thing she'd ever seen. He was delicious. And he was about to ruin her in the best way possible.
Eyes wide, she stared down her body as Bruce gripped his manhood and angled it down to drag the broad head over her clit. It felt dirty and amazing, and when he did it again she couldn't help but bite her lip and roll her hips up into him, practically begging for his cock. He glanced up at her and she looked him right in the eye. No shame at all, just profound desire and understanding, shared between the two of them.
He dragged his tip down, through her folds and then back up again, spreading her wetness and circling at her clit, driving her to the point of frustration before he hitched himself at her entrance and pushed inside.
"Fuck," she moaned. "Oh God."
It was just the tip and a little extra, but it was excellent, and she wanted more. Much more. The whole damn thing.
He was thick and so fucking hard as he gave it to her, pushing in and stretching her, making her moan and run a frantic hand through her hair. She clenched up around him, and when he hit the back of her pussy he leaned forward, caging her in with his arms on either side of her head. A delicious groan escaped his lips and her arms and legs instinctively wrapped around him, clutching him, drawing him closer.
"Good?" he asked, and she wasn't sure if he was concerned about her well-being or if he was just subtly gloating, but she nodded like a bobblehead.
"Yes, so good."
Bruce really was huge, his muscles, his cock, his entire body, but she was turned all the way on, her pussy slick and tight around him, clinging to his member with every wonderful stroke into her core. He took her slowly, in an agonizingly sweet rhythm that allowed her to savor and feel every hard inch of him. The curve of his cock stretching her out, the glide of him through her pussy lips, the nudging against her G-spot. Skillfully, with such control and patience that she was reminded of why he was the best at everything he put his mind to.
Apparently that included her.
Eating her out.
Working magic with his fingers.
Fucking her into a puddle of mush.
His hands breathed life into her body, palming her breasts, pinching her nipples, gripping her throat while grunting like an animal into her ear. His voice alone could make her moan, but this was just so much. The slightest touch made her body tremble. She was hypersensitive beneath him, her body so receptive to his fingers, his mouth, his tongue, and the hard appendage pumping in and out of her. He devoured her neck, nipped at her jaw with his teeth, and when he kissed her she moaned into his mouth, hands on the back of his head and raking at his hair.
"More," she said breathlessly, matching his movement with her hips. "Give me more, baby."
He slowed, then cursed uncharacteristically and slid his hand down her toned stomach, petting her clit with his middle finger, making a bolt of pleasure mix in with the wicked sensations already spiraling out of control within her. Round and round, perfectly stroking that swollen bud while he slowly stuffed her pussy, claimed and owned it with his cock. And while the pressure inside of her built up until she was getting dangerously close to the edge, he took that same hand and fisted her hair, angling her forehead against his. His movement quickened then, giving her exactly what she asked for.
Every inch of him.
Rough and fast and so fucking good.
She was so full, so connected to him, and it was wet and messy and incredibly loud and unbelievably satisfying. He was giving her his all and she was matching his movements as best she was able, rolling her pelvis while the bed bounced beneath them, absorbing the wild, primitive force of their lovemaking. And when an orgasm built at her center, coiling tight, she whimpered helplessly. She hid her face in his neck, biting him and listening to him grunt as he fucked her. Her hands clawed at his back, her breasts bounced, her toes curled, and his balls slapped her ass with each brilliant stroke into her pussy.
"Close," she gasped.
Her choked-up cries and demure little whimpers mingled with his feral, unrestrained grunts. He was losing some of his prior control now, his body taut, his deep strokes into her pussy more frantic. There was power, dominance and lust in his eyes, and she couldn't take it anymore. She was losing herself to him, to the pleasure decimating her body. The hand on her head tightened, and his commanding voice delighted her ears.
"You were made for me, Selina. Now come for me. Let me see."
"Yes!" she sobbed. "Yes, oh, God, yes."
The erotic tone of his voice, the depth of his eyes, the way he was fucking her into oblivion, she just couldn't hold on any longer. She lost control completely, crying out as a devastating climax raced through her.
A few moments later, Bruce followed her over the edge, letting out a choked exclamation and jerking against her as he spent inside of her. Helpless, undone. She loved how he sounded, how she made him feel. Her insides contracted around him, milking him, taking it all, and when he was through he collapsed onto the bed beside her.
They were both an absolute mess.
Afterward she lay on her side, eyes closed and head resting on his shoulder, a lazy grin on her lips. Satisfied, she made a sweet purring sound, a luxurious hum. It was so good with him. Every single time. And it didn't seem as if she could ever get enough. It was hot, wild, and exhilarating sex.
With Batman.
With Bruce Wayne.
The cuddling wasn't bad either.
"What are you smiling at?" he asked.
"What do you think?" She reached over to stroke his chest, her hand gliding over firm muscles and coarse hair.
"I don't know." He glanced towards the bathroom. "Did you steal my toothbrush while I was in the cave?"
"Don't be ridiculous. How would I kiss you if you can't brush your teeth?"
"Fair enough." He paused, and hushed television chatter filled the room. "Find out anything about who tried to put a hole in me?"
Normally she'd be annoyed over him bringing up work in the bedroom, but this was personal. To both of them. She probably should have mentioned her findings earlier, but you can't blame a girl for not being able to resist a shirtless Bruce Wayne.
"His name is Jacob Osmond," she said. "I'm sure you know who he is."
Bruce nodded. "Real estate investor and owner of Boost Publications. Founded by his father."
"Right. And he was at the gala earlier."
"You talked to him?"
"He tried to grab my ass." Selina laughed at the change in his expression. "Don't worry, I didn't let him. But he did tell me where he lived."
"I assume he didn't just let you in after ringing the doorbell."
"No, I got in the old-fashioned way: through a window on the third floor."
"Find anything?"
Extricating herself from his arms, she climbed over him and flopped onto her belly at the edge of the bed, reaching down and hauling up a black duffle bag. Sitting back up, she fished out an external hard drive from a side pocket and then unzipped the main pouch, revealing the unmistakable elongated shape of a rifle.
Bruce inspected it for a moment, then said, "A Lee-Enfield. Strange choice for a weapon."
"It was stuffed in a dumpster a block away from the Wyman Building. I'd be willing to bet it belongs to a certain business magnate."
"We'll see. I'll take a look at it before handing it over to the police. What's on the hard drive?"
"Emails, mostly. Correspondence between him and James Cannon, as well as the Civilian Marksmanship Program where he likely got that rifle. Nothing damning on its face, but it establishes a connection."
Bruce looked pleased. The gun alone would likely be enough to put them both away. "Not bad."
"Yes," she said, placing the hard drive back in the bag and lowering it to the floor, "it helps to have a cat burglar on your payroll, doesn't it?"
"Payroll?"
She smirked. "Don't I get some sort of reward?"
Bruce pretended to think for a moment. "Ten thousand all right?"
"Something more personal."
"A mink coat?"
"No."
"A new motorcycle?"
Selina stalked towards him on her hands and knees. His arm slipped around her, and her soft lips brushed against his. "Save it for my birthday."
They kissed, her eyes squeezing shut, his tongue pushing into her mouth. He was enthusiastic and assertive, taking control of the kiss while his hands roamed her body, gripping the side of her neck, squeezing the swell of her ass. It was intense and carnal and not at all a chaste kiss. She felt dizzy in his arms, wild for his touch, his scent, his warmth. Desire tugged between her legs, fire raged, and when they broke apart she was breathless.
"Mmmm," she purred, opening her eyes. "That's more like it." She leaned forward to kiss him again, but he pulled away.
"Later," he said. "I need to contact Dick and go over what you brought me."
Right. Birdboy was still out there and the police were likely grilling Cannon.
He kissed her again. Gently. So sweet. And then climbed out of bed, hauling the duffel bag onto his shoulder. "You're free to sleep here if you'd like."
"What, don't want me down in your man-cave?"
Bruce looked genuinely surprised. "I didn't think you were that committed to this."
Selina grinned and hopped off the bed. "All the way, baby." Padding her way to the hallway leading to his bathroom, the tumultuous sound of running water overtook the hush of the bedroom. "I'll be down after I'm finished showering," she called.
She was just stepping into the hot shower when Bruce's voice cut through the rush of water.
"What's with all of these spoons?"