Page 43 of Her Wolf

Cora was retreating again. Her legs bumped into the dresser, and she fumbled around as if looking for a weapon. “I don’t care what you say,” Cora said. “You’re not going to—”

“…We make the rules in here.”

She raced for the bedroom door. But he’d seen her intention, and darted to the side to intercept her. Cora squealed when he snatched her up and wriggled like a fish out of water.

“Put me down!” But it was less a command and more a restrained giggle. “Lars! Put me down!”

Bailey got to his feet as Lars passed him with the laughing, thrashing Cora.

“Please!” she begged through a laughing sob, going limp in his arms. “There’s no time for this.”

“Oh, there’s always time for this,” Lars murmured into her ear. “You only live once, Princess. Remember that after the third time you come tonight.”

. . .

As much as she wanted to break free, to yell at Lars to put her down, her traitorous body wanted nothing more than what Lars had promised. She should have been planning, making sure nothing would go wrong tomorrow night. Instead, her belly writhed and the thought—just the thought—that Lars was actually going to tie her up…

Cora attempted to break free, but she couldn’t stop laughing, and that had weakened her muscles to the point where she had zero control over her body.

Lars dumped her on the bed. She tried to crawl away, but he caught her ankle and dragged her back.

“You gonna strip, or am I going to have to do it for you?”

And God, that question set off a fireworks of tingles through her. “No, I’ll do it.”

But she was taking too long, laughing as she was, because a few seconds later, Bailey appeared beside Lars. He ran his hands roughly up her thighs and tugged at the button of her jeans. She gaped at him, tried to slap his hand away, and then delivered a kick to Lars when he tried to pin down her ankle.

“Hey, I’m serious,” she said, grabbing Bailey’s wrist. “There’ll be time for this—”

“Bailey, gag her.”

“What?” Her heart gave a hard thump in her chest. “No. No way!”

Which was when Finn came out of the bathroom, his shirt off and his eyes bright and fixed straight on her where she struggled on the bed.

And her body, as if sensing a predator, went limp in self defense.

Holy hell, but he had a beautiful body. His sculpted muscles stood proud as he worked his hands together. They shone too, as if he’d put oil on them.

A massage?

Now that would be a treat.

Her body relaxed even more at the thought, and Bailey peeled off her jeans while she lay hypnotized by Finn’s slow, determined approach.

“Thought she’d be naked already,” Finn said, his ruined voice sending a shiver all the way down her spine.

“She doth protest too much,” Lars said.

A coarse, thick rope brushed her ankle. She looked down, instinctively tugging her ankle away when Lars tried to loop the rope around it.

He stroked her calf, murmuring, “Easy,” to her as he glanced up at her with mischief glittering in his green eyes.

“What’s your safe word, Princess?” Finn asked, coming to stand in front of her.

Bailey grabbed her other ankle, drawing it away. But there was only one rope, and that Lars was tying off against the foot of the bed. Leaving her tethered by one foot like an animal prone to roaming.

“Swan,” she said.

---