Page 25 of Faking It with the Enforcer

I moan and nod. “Yes. Yes.”

“So responsive. Such a sweet, good girl.”

His words set off an explosion inside me, and I gasp at the way my body responds to being called his sweet good girl.

“What about more?” He traces the tip of his tongue over the outer shell of my ear, making me writhe against him. “Can I touch your pussy? Can I stroke your clit and make you come?”

He drops one hand from my hair and slides it between my thighs, resting just inches from where I’m wet and aching for him.

“Yes,” I breathe. “I want to touch you, too. Teach me how to make you feel good.”

Wolf groans and guides one of my hands to the massive bulge tenting his pants. “I’m losing my fucking mind just thinking about your fingers wrapped around me.”

The car stops, pulling up in front of Wolf’s building, and we scramble out of the back seat, the chilly night air doing nothing to cool my overheated body.

We rush into the lobby, my hand in Wolf’s, and make a beeline for the elevator, the tension between us taut like a bowstring. Like my muscles when I dance on pointe. The elevator doors slide open smoothly, revealing an empty car.

The moment the doors close, Wolf cages me in against the wall, towering over me. But I don’t feel intimidated. I feel safe. Protected. I tilt my head up, my breath hitching at the hunger in his steely eyes. His huge hand cups my cheek, making my skin tingle.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Emily,” he murmurs, dragging his thumb over my lower lip. I dart my tongue out, brushing against the tip of his thumb. He groans and then he’s kissing me again.

His mouth is hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my legs shake and my stomach dip and swirl. I clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer. He groans again, his hands sliding down to cup my ass, lifting me off theground. My legs slide around his waist as though we’ve done this a hundred times, and I moan when I feel the press of his hard cock against me.

I hear the elevator doors slide open, but Wolf doesn’t stop kissing me. He walks us out, his mouth still devouring mine. I feel like I’m floating, vaguely aware of the sound of keys, of his door opening, of him kicking the door shut behind us. I hear his keys thunk to the floor and then we’re moving again, his steps fast and sure as he carries me towards his bedroom.

Eleven

Emily

Wolf’s bedroom.

This feels like a dream.

Wolf walks us to the bed, laying me down and then following when I don’t let go of him, his body pressing me into the mattress. I love how much bigger than me he is, how strong and sure. I can feel his cock pressing against me even through the layers of clothing separating us and it makes me ache. He feels huge against me. Enormous, even—not that I’m an expert. But it sends both nerves and a thrilling anticipation running through me.

His mouth moves from mine, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck, his beard scratching deliciously against my sensitive skin. I hope it leaves marks. I don’t really understand it, but I want Wolf’s marks on me.

“Emily,” he moans softly against my collarbone, his hands sliding up my sides and taking my sweater along for the ride. “Need to see you, little one.”

Holy hell, the things it does to me when he calls me that. Like my skin is ablaze and my heart is going a million miles an hour and I’m humming and buzzing.

I nod and lift my arms above my head, arching up enough that he can tug my sweater off. His eyes go stormy, dark gray and glittering as he takes in my bare skin. His gaze lingers on my small breasts, still covered by my lacy black bralette. I blush feverishly under his gaze, but he grins at me before dragging his nose down between my breasts.

“Don’t be shy with me, little one. You never need to be shy with me. You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect. Gonna take such good care of you, Em.”

He slowly slides his hand to the clasp of my bra, undoing it with a flick of his fingers. He nudges the fabric away, my nipples beading almost painfully under Wolf’s gaze. He groans, his eyes locked on me.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice low and rough. “So beautiful.”

“They’re really small,” I say, and I’m not sure why I do. Am I apologizing? Pointing out the obvious?

“They’re fucking perfect,” he growls, and then gently takes one of my nipples in his mouth. I gasp, my back arching as he sucks, his tongue swirling around me. It’s like there’s a direct link between my nipples and my clit that I was not expecting. He lavishes attention on one breast, licking and kissing, sucking and biting, then the other, his hands cupping and squeezing, thumbs flicking over my nipples until I’m a writhing mess beneath him.

“Wolf,” I moan, my fingers tangling in his hair as I hang onto him. “That feels so good. Yes, Daddy.”

I gasp and then freeze when I realize what I’ve just said. Oh, god. Embarrassment rushes through me, making my skin hot and itchy, making me wish I could rewind to before I said the cringiest thing ever.

But when Wolf’s gaze meets mine, his thumb coasting over my nipple, back and forth, back and forth, I can see the searing heat there. The possession. The need.

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