Page 21 of Defiant
I hear asmacklike she just hit the wall of the shower, and I imagine she’s coming. I imagine her sweet pink pussy is pulsing around her fingers, milking them in that wet heat.Fuck.I stroke faster and harder, intensity searing my spine until I feel my balls tightening and I come. My load shoots all over her bathroom door as my chest heaves. I slide my hand up and down my shaft a little longer, softly now, dragging out the sensation.
Oh god.
My tongue rims my lips and I let out a heavy breath. If coming while just thinking about her is this good I can only imagine how amazing the real thing will be. I’ve never been this drawn to a woman before. My wolf arches a brow smugly, as if he’s known all this time that we were just waiting for an omega. For the type of wolf who could actually serve our needs. For the type of girl who could bring out our fire and take the heat.
I hear the water shut off in the shower and I hurriedly come down from my high and bend to snag the waistband of my pants, yanking them back up. I don’t bother wiping the cum off the door. Hopefully, she’ll smell it and know that I know what she was doing. Maybe that will embarrass her and make those pale cheeks turn a soft pink.
Mmmm … I like that idea more than I should.
I stride quickly out of the room before I can dwell on why Elena’s taken all my fantasies down a dark, twisted path. I nearly run headlong into Matthew, who’s in the main rec room of the basement, folded clothes in one hand, the scent of onions trailing from him. No, not him. I look over to the bar and there are two fresh trays with sandwiches, apples, and trail mix.
“I thought you’d want fresh … everything. And your guest,”—this time he uses the word with a bit less hesitance than last time—“will probably want to be dressed before the elite team arrives.”
Fuck.
I’d nearly forgotten I’d ordered them to come over, that was how completely captivating and distracting my little she-wolf was.
I toss Matthew a nod of thanks and he puts the clothing down on one of the brown leather recliners before turning to head back up the stairs.
I call out to stop him. “Matthew! One last thing.” I reach down into the pocket of my pants for the key to the storage room. I fish it out and hold it out. “You can have this back.”
He comes forward and plucks it out of my hand. “Excellent.” I can hear the relief in his tone.
Unfortunately, my next words quell it. “I need the key to the door at the top of the stairs instead. Ms. DeMarkus will be staying down here.”
Matthew swallows hard but, just like everyone who works for me, he knows to keep his mouth shut. He fiddles with his key ring, flipping through the keys with aplinkand aplonkuntil he finds the right one, extracts it, and hands it to me. “Will she be staying awhile sir?” he asks.
“Oh, she’ll be staying forever.” I give my butler a smirk as he nods—stoic as usual—and retreats and a tingle works its way up my spine.
I turn to see Elena standing in the doorway of the basement bedroom, her glare the cause of the sensation along my back. While I’m certain she wishes that laser gaze of hers could carve holes into me, all it does is make me want to shove her back into that bedroom and close the door behind us. She looks amazing, those fit muscular legs of hers on display.
I don’t ravish her, though the sight of her in that towel is porn worthy. My self-control practically makes me a fucking saint.
Instead, I grab a set of my more casual things from the stack that Matthew brought down and hold them out like a peace offering. “Why don’t you get dressed and then we’ll eat?”
“Oh, you’re feeding me now? Not locking me back up inside that torture chamber?” Her eyes glint furiously and her hands roughly and quickly snatch away the pile of clothes so she can clutch them to her chest.
I don’t bother to answer her because she’s being a pouty brat. I’m an alpha. I’ll do what I need to do to protect myself and my pack and I won’t apologize for it—not even to my mate. I turn my back on her and drop my sweats so that I can change into the casual slacks and gray button-up.
I hear a loud gasp behind me and then the tromp of feet as Elena rushes back into her room, pretending she’s offended and she doesn’t like what she sees. We both know that’s a lie. I work out two hours a day. Plus, her little bathroom performance lets me know all I need to know about our chemistry. It’s there—whether she wants to admit it or not. Our chemistry’s as strong as lightning—when I finally do strike, she’s going to get the shock of her life.
I get dressed and walk over to the bar to make myself a drink. I pour a double whiskey on the rocks and top it off with a bit of water, then grab a spoon to stir it.
Like a nice guy, I pour Elena a glass of wine before I realize I don’t know if she likes red or white. So, I pour another glass in another color—bases covered.
When Elena steps out of the bedroom, she looks adorably hilarious. She’s swimming in my clothes and though I’d guess she’s five foot five or so, she looks tiny in my things.
I’m not even sure how she got my pants to stay up on her waist because they’re at least four times too wide for her slender form. They cover her bare feet except for the tips of her toes, which peek out under the hem as she walks. My worn black San Francisco t-shirt, a remnant of my youth, is so baggy that I can’t see her figure. But her scent now mingles with mine, which sends an entirely different, entirely new sort of rush to my head—this sort of visceral pride, this pleasure, a sense of satisfaction.
I’m rubbing all of her clothes across my body before I give them to her from now on. Maybe I’ll even use her underthings to jerk off before I let her wear them. She’ll be conditioned to my scent … fucking hell, I’m getting worked up again. I need to eat. I’m light-headed. That’s what this is. That’s why I can’t focus. I had a fight, had to heal, and I haven’t eaten. Low blood sugar is driving me crazy.
I snag a sandwich from one of the plates. It’s still warm. Moon Goddess bless Matthew. He knows I hate cold sandwiches. Normally, I don’t make this much work for him. But nothing’s normal tonight, I realize as Elena stands near the bar and I stare at her delicate wrists as she traces a finger along her tray.
I realize what I’m doing—who the fuck looks at wrists?—and quickly set down my sandwich and wipe my hands on a cloth napkin from my tray before pushing both wine glasses toward her.
“Wine?” I ask.
Her gaze flickers over both glasses and then at my own whiskey. “We’re a little past the get the girl drunk and take her home phase.”
