Page 11 of Wicked Pursuit

He’s not entirely wrong, and I hate him for it. My parents have a firm “no enforcers” rule. At least not for hookups. It complicates things, tempts people to think they’re outside the chain of command because they’re in my bed. A relationship is one thing, but for casual sex, the boundary is firm. I was never tempted to break it... until that night of acting wildly out of character.

You didn’t answer my question.

Unknown

What do you want me to say, baby? That I slit his fucking throat for touching what’s mine? That I’ll do the same to anyone else who puts their hands on you?

I shiver. He’s bluffing. He’s got to be... Except I don’t believe that, do I? I can’t tell what I’m feeling. It’s like my body and brain are at war. My brain is screaming that I’m playing with fire and the only way this ends is in pain and death. My body? It’s got its wires crossed.

Not sure what response you’re looking for with that dramatic proclamation. Do you want a cookie?

Unknown

Haven’t you figured it out yet, baby? I want YOU.

I come hometo an empty apartment, but that’s nothing more than I expect. It’s become the usual these days. Whatisn’tusual is my ensuring there’s no stalker hiding in a closet before I drop my purse onto the kitchen counter and pour myself a strong glass of whisky. There’s a part of me that wants to keep my wits about me... but there’s a stronger part of me, buried deep, that wants an excuse to behave badly.

I don’t have to pretend I’m a good person who has the right priorities when I’m seven sheets to the wind. Whatever that fucking saying means.

I take my whisky and phone into the bathroom and set them on the counter. A long, scalding-hot shower does wonders on the knots forming between my shoulder blades. I’ll have to get a massage soon because there’s only so much I can do to combat the tightness on my own.

By the time I turn off the water and wrap a fluffy towel around my body, I’m feeling loose and somewhere in the vicinity of relaxed. Luke still isn’t home, so I drop the towel on the floor and stretch out on our bed. The sheets smell faintly of him, of us, and my guilt raises its irritating head.

The guilt’s also mixed up in frustration and shame and, yes, lust.

I don’t make a conscious decision to slide my hands over my warm, naked body, but the touch feels good, so I keep going. I have a lot of pent-up tension, and this is a surefire way to release some of it. I cup my breasts and pluck at my nipples. Warmth curls through me.Yes, this is what I need.

I tease myself, dragging my fingertips over my stomach to my pussy. I spread my legs and circle my clit lightly. Delicious tingles start low in my stomach. I want to take my time with this, to really work off my stress.

My phone rings.

I open my eyes. I’m not even sure when I shut them. “I should have put the damn thing on silent.” I ignore the call until it goes to voicemail... and then the phone immediately starts ringing again. “Motherfucker.”

I grab it with my free hand and curse even harder when I see UNKNOWN as the caller. Now’s the time to put my cell on silent or even turn it off. I don’t do either.

Instead I answer. “You’re interrupting.”

His slow chuckle makes things low in my stomach clench. I could pretend it’s because I’m still circling my clit, but that’s not entirely the truth. “Do you think you deserve an orgasm after how you’ve been acting, baby? Fucking mobsters and running your mouth every chance you get.”

I circle my clit faster. What the fuck is wrong with me that his almost-threats make this hotter? “As if you’re not just as bad as a mobster.”

“You’re right. I’m worse.” Another of those delicious low laughs. “Why don’t you let me fuck you instead? I’ll do a better job of it.”

My curtains are closed. There’s no way he should be able to see what I’m doing. He’s bluffing. “I’m not fucking myself.”

“Not yet,” he agrees easily. “Stop teasing that clit and give your needy pussy your fingers.”

Again, my fear rises. Again, it makes my desire deeper, hotter. “Are you watching me, Wolf?”

“Always, baby.”

Either he’s bluffing... or he’s got cameras in my room. It’s possible. Probable, even. He was here to leave the ring, so he had the opportunity. Bastard. “You’re a creep, you know that?” I put my phone on speaker and drop it onto the bed next to me. I could blame this on the whisky, but I’m barely buzzed. No, it’sdangerI’m drunk on. “You want to fuck me, Wolf? Come do it.”

I roll over onto my stomach and knees, the new position putting my ass in the air. It feels extra vulnerable, which makes me work my clit harder. It’s not enough, but I knew it wouldn’t be. I slide two fingers into my pussy, almost shocked at how wet I am.

He hasn’t responded. I’ve startled him.Good.

My orgasm is close, flirting with the edges of my awareness.

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