Page 40 of Her Convict Wolf

He cups my face in his big, calloused hands. “I was worried if I keep kissing you, we won’t make it out of here at all,” he growls. Then he pulls away and presents me with a shoebox. I open it and find a beautiful pair of Jimmy Choo’s inside, also in my size.

“Oh my god, I love them,” I breathe.

“You sure?” He looks worried. “I wasn’t sure if it was your style.”

“Yup. Very much my style!” I brace my hands on his shoulders as I step into them. I feel like Cinderella, rescued from my evil family by my very own Prince Charming.

When we leave the suite, an FBI agent is waiting by the door. He ushers us along the corridor, up a flight of stairs, through an external door and there’s a helicopter, its propellers already whirring.

Maxim takes my hand and leads me in, and in a moment, we’re way up in the air, Washington’s stately buildings spanning out beneath us.

It’s just past sunset and the view is breathtaking, but it’s nothing compared to the sight of my gorgeous mate beside me, looking so sharp in his tux. He even trimmed his beard and combed his hair for the occasion. To be honest, I prefer him in jeans and a T-shirt—or better yet, nothing at all. But it’s sure nice to see him like this for one special night.

We fly over the city in a sweeping arc.

“The scenic route, so you can enjoy the view,” Maxim says.

Finally, we land on the roof of a tall building. Inside is a beautiful room, done out in a cool, contemporary style. The space is big enough to accommodate maybe fifty people, but a single table has been set up right by the windows.

“We’ve got it all to ourselves.”

Maxim raises my hand to his lips. “So, you can relax and enjoy the evening, just like you deserve.”

It’s all so romantic. All the dreams I never dared entertain.

Maxim leaves me over to the table and helps me to my seat. A door opens on the far side of the room, and a familiar brutal-looking blond man appears.

“Swede?” I say, uncertainly.

He gives a solemn nod. “Good to see you again, Emory. I’ll be your server tonight.” There’s a mischievous quirk to his lips as he says the last part.

Maxim claps him on the shoulder. “I talked him into filling in tonight, since he’s the guy I trust more than anyone.”

Swede brings a bottle of champagne for us and pours out two glasses, then hands us each a menu. For such a big guy, he has a deft touch, and he serves us as unobtrusively as any professional server.

“To you, Emory.” Maxim raises his glass. His eyes are fixated on mine, and I see so much love and admiration there, it brings a lump to my throat.

“No, tous,” I insist.

The menu is incredible. French haute cuisine. Every mouthful more delicious than the last.

“I dream of being able to cook like this,” I say, swallowing a delicious forkful of something exquisite.

Maxim takes my hand. “Emory, your wish is my command. I loved all the food you cooked for us in the cabin. But you know, it also made me sad, because I knew you weren’t getting to make the most of your talents. You want to learn French-style cooking, I’ll find the best teacher I can for you.”

“I would really love that,” I reply.

When we’re finished, the helicopter is waiting for us again, and it carries us up, through a clear, starry Washington night.

I thought I’d never want to see the hospitality suite again. But I was wrong. Turns out I can’t wait to get back there and tear off Maxim’s perfect tux. All evening, I’ve been aching for him.

We’ve barely been in the room two minutes before we’re both naked, and I’m lying on the bed, thighs spread wide, while Maxim is arching over me, his monster cock reminding me who I belong to. Bliss.

13

Maxim

We pull up in front of a squat gray house, halfway along a quiet street. My gorgeous mate is beside me, and my beast is bounding in scrabbling in anticipation.

---