Page 26 of Good Luck Charm for the Wolf

I chuckle softly because this kind of thing? This kind of naughty flirting with him? It just feels so good. So right.

“Truth is, I wanted to hear your voice. You know, you sound real pretty when you get worked up, Sunshine.”

Oh, hell.

I bite my lip.

“You’re very confident for someone who spent last night losing to hornets.”

He chuckles darkly.

“I do, huh? Well, cocky is kinda my middle name. But I promise to make it up to you. Close your eyes.”

The command is recognizable, but I don’t mind.

I do what he says.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, his rumbly voice like silk and sin, “what are you wearing right now?”

“A tank top and sleep shorts,” I admit, breath hitching. “Nothing special.”

He groans softly, and it’s filthy.

“Color?”

“Pink,” I confess.

“Fuck. Bet you look gorgeous. Bet you’re warm and soft and already squirming, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

I am.

Holy hell, I am.

His words roll over me, dirty and reverent all at once, and before long, the teasing turns into heavy breathing, soft moans, and frantic whispers between us.

“Slip your fingers past the elastic waistband of those little bitty shorts.”

I don’t know how he knows they are tiny, but he isn’t wrong.

His voice is pure sin, rough and commanding in my ear, curling around my spine and sliding molten-hot straight between my thighs.

Shit.

Yes.

I don’t even hesitate. My free hand slides down my stomach, fingers slipping past the waistband and over soft, sensitive skin until they find exactly where I need them.

“Are you wet for me, Sunshine?”

His voice drops to a low, wicked rasp.

I nod frantically, then remember he can’t see me.

“Words,” he growls, all gravel and need.

Like the very idea of me getting off without properly answering him pisses him off on a primal level.

“Y-yes,” I whisper, breath hitching as my fingers brush against my own slick heat. “Oh God, I’m soaked.”

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