Page 41 of Bewitched By the Werewolf
“Yes, it is, whether you like it or not. One way or another I’ll get what I want.”
Ryder’s eyes flash and his chest rises and falls in a deep breath. He looks pained but excited. It’s a weird expression and I watch him as he looks me over taking in my—even for me—unusual outfit.
“What are you up to Red?” he asks in a far quieter and less aggressive tone than before.
I cross my arms and cock a hip. “Working.”
“What the hell kind of work requires you to dress like that?” His voice has gone dark and husky, causing a shiver to run up my spine, joining forces with my goosebumps to harden my nipples even more.
A man with a voice like that could get a girl to do just about anything he asked. Ryder runs one large strong hand through his unruly hair causing it to pull back then flop back over his temple. And with hands like that he could touch and caress any part of me he wanted.
Hands like that. Large, strong, manly.
A thought occurs to me and instead of considering it completely I run with it before I can decide it’s a bad idea, because it’s not. It’s a fucking fantastic idea. Reaching out I grab onto Ryder’s wrist, his skin is hot and smooth, and I run the pad of my thumb over his pulse. It thrums like a drum under my touch.
“Come on in and I’ll show you.”
When I pull, Ryder comes willingly. Stumbling through my door, stooping to not hit his head on the low ceiling. In a matter of seconds he’s inside and I’m closing the door behind us. Since he took down my cameras, he’s going to make it up to me, by helping me with my work.
Chapter 23: Ryder
Tess’s touch nearly knocks me on my ass. The moment her fingers circle my wrist and caress my skin, my cock strains behind my zipper. The effect is so instantaneous I can’t think, can’t comprehend what the fuck is happening before I’m inside Tess’s trailer. I can’t focus on anything but her in that tight skimpy outfit that shows off every succulent curve and swell. And her fucking scent. Like sticky cinnamon apple drizzle coating my skin. The scent of her arousal coating my tongue, rendering me useless.
I just stand there watching her, not even paying attention to the space around us. Her scent is even stronger in here and I almost fall to my knees from the strength of it. I lean back against a counter and grip its edge for support. The knot at the base of my cock slowly becoming painfully engorged. I’ve never experienced the rutting sensation some shifters encounter with mates, but I have a strong sense this is what it feels like. Overpowering, brain numbing single-minded focus and desire.
Her touch did this to me. One more sign she could be my mate. A mate’s touch is even more intoxicating than their scent. Both aphrodisiacs, but touch sends a lightning bolt of lust straight to a shifters core. For a male that means his knot, the rounded base of our cocks that swells and locks us togetherwith our mate during sex. I’ve felt it swell before when I was particularly horny, but this? This is a whole different level of want and desire, it’s almost painful. It takes all my focus and will power to remain still and not tear at her clothes.
When she steps forward and starts unbuckling my belt, that control almost snaps.
“Red,” The pet name is a gutter growl, both a demand and a question. To stop, to continue, to put me out of my fucking misery.
“You’re going to help me, since you took down my cameras,” she says pointedly while still carefully unbuckling my utility belt, far too close to my swollen cock trying it’s best to escape my jeans.
If she keeps pulling at my waist band, it might succeed.
“Help you?” I ask in a hoarse voice, barely able to form coherent thoughts.
“Yes. With my work. Think of it as compensation.”
When she looks up at me through her lashes and I get the perfect picture of her bright green eyes, dark lashes, red lips and perfect cleavage all in one look, I almost come in my pants at the sight. She’s fucking perfect like this. Sassy, demanding, beautiful. For a moment I don’t care why she wants to take my clothes off, I’m on board. That is until I break my gaze away from her and notice the set up with a camera on a tripod.
“What the hell?” Tess removes my belt with my gun and badge and lays it gently on the counter as I realize what is really going on. “I am not going to have sex with you on camera, Tess.”
She stops and glares at me, then laughs. It’s a beautiful sound but a confusing one. She holds her stomach as she continues to laugh deep and long at my stupefied expression.
“I don’t want to have sex with you on camera, Ryder.”
My brows lift and I give a pointed look at the camera and dark sheets strewn about her couch then back at her. “Really? Cause that’s what it looks like.”
Tess wipes at the tears under her eyes as her laughing dies out. “I do want to film us but not having sex.”
I cross my arms over my chest and shift my hips on the counter behind me, hoping to subtly adjust my still aching cock.
“Then what do you want to film me doing?”
“Unbraiding my hair.” She swivels to show me the intricate braid she’s put her hair in circling her head like a crown. “I run an only fans page where I post videos of my hair. You know for hair fetishes? Like foot fetishes? People like to watch videos of me playing with my hair.” She shrugs but doesn’t at all appear ashamed or embarrassed by this at all.
It’s a strange profession but not completely outlandish. At least it’s not porn, or maybe it is to some. I’ll admit I’ve caught myself staring at Tess’s red hair more than once. It’s long, thick, shiny, and fire engine red. Right now, I’m picturing it tangled in my fingers and spread out on my sheets. My dick twitches and I can understand how it could be a turn on. Though I was also imaging what the rest of me would be doing to the rest of her while my fingers are tangled in her hair. Perhaps that’s the point.
