Page 44 of Her Wolf

Her skin pulsed with anticipation, trepidation, lust. But her heart was fluttering like a butterfly against her ribs. She licked her lips, and glanced over at Lars, who was slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t hurt me,” she said.

Lars made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to you, Princess.”

“No, but come on,” she said, writhing on the sheets. “No slapping and stuff. I don’t like that.”

“How would you know if you’ve never tried?” Lars asked, shrugging his shoulders. His shirt glided to the floor as his fingers went to his jeans.

“I’m pretty sure I won’t.”

Fingers touched her shoulders, and she flinched. Tipping her head back, she stared at Bailey. She’d expected an apologetic look on his face, but all she saw was wary anticipation.

“You can always tap out,” Finn said, trailing his fingers up her bare leg.

They’d left her underwear on, but for how long? It was damp already, and that made her even more aware how clothed they were.

“But then playtime’s over for good, so I’d try and stick it out long as possible,” Lars said, and his eyes darted up to Bailey. “Take off her shirt.”

She snatched her hands away from Bailey, but he caught them again, lifting them up so Finn could lean across and hike her shirt up her ribs.

Bailey didn’t pull it off all the way though. Just as her head broke clear of the collar, he twisted the sleeves around her wrists, trapping her inside the fabric. He did such a thorough job that, even when she struggled to slide out, she couldn’t.

There was no point in protesting.

She could see hunger in each of their eyes now. A need that only she could fulfill. It scared her, but it also filled her with a sense of pride.

These strong men were too weak to hold themselves back from taking what they needed from her. A weakness she couldn’t help but exploit.

She wanted them to take as much as they wanted.

More.

Until she had nothing left to give.

. . .

Cora’s arms had been warm, but her skin was cooling. Bailey gripped the mess of fabric and fingers he’d made with her shirt so tight he could feel her pulse against his thumb.

Her heart raced.

But his did too.

This felt so fucking wrong, on so many levels. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—stop.

Her presence intoxicated him. It had, for so long. To have her this close, naked but for a triangle of dark fabric, was a temptation he couldn’t resist.

There was a safe word, at least, if she wanted them to stop. And she wasn’t fighting anymore.

Except…that had been the hottest part of all, when Lars had snatched her up like that and carried her to the bed like a caveman who’d had enough of dragging women by the hair.

She was into this. He could see it from the tremble in her mouth. The way her chest rose and fell. Her wide, eager eyes tracking every movement Finn and Lars made.

What did he have to do to make her look at him with such voracious apprehension?

He wanted her to worship him like she worshiped these two men.

Bailey took off his vest. Lars had stripped to his briefs—a glance in his direction had been enough to establish that and the size of his massive erection—but Finn was still wearing his jeans.

What the hell was he supposed to do? And why did this feel like some kind of test? Was it because of how fucked off Finn had been in the library earlier?

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