Page 60 of Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

“You never said,” I whisper.

He reaches up, touches my neck. “I’m telling you now.”

But things have changed. “No.”

“Gigi…” His brow furrows.

“No, Jarett.” My eyes burn. I’m so frigging scared that I’ll lose grip that I’ll start to cry. “I don’t even know you anymore. Who are you? Because one thing’s for sure, you’re not who you were when you met me.”

“But I am.” His gaze drops. “I am, Gigi. It’s me.”

“Really? Merc said you’re in a gang, Are you? Tell me the truth.”

His hand shifts on my neck, his fingers digging into my hair, gentle this time. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Holy crap. I push on his rock-hard chest. “Get off me.”

“Gigi—”

“Get. Off.”

He pulls his hand back, jaw tightening. “I told you I’m not a good guy. I dunno what the fuck you want from me.”

And I don’t know what I want, either, what to think. What to make of him.

My hands are still on his chest. He hasn’t moved away. And I’m not really trying to shove him back. So close, I can see the flecks of blue and gold in his eyes, the long dark lashes, the fine stubble on his jaw, his lips.

His lashes lower, and he leans in. His mouth takes mine in a hot kiss, and my hands slide up to grip his big shoulders.

Oh man. He tastes good. Every lick and thrust of his tongue winds up the pressure in my belly tighter. I pull on him, trying to get closer—where just seconds ago I was pushing him away.

He’s still on his knees, and I bend over him as we kiss and kiss, and then his hands slip under my dress. I moan when his fingers tug my panties aside and stroke me where I’m so hot and desperate for him.

He draws back just enough to breathe. “Wanna stop me?” he murmurs against my stinging lips. “Tell me now, or I’m gonna make you come so hard you’ll scream, doll.”

“I won’t…” I’m panting, burning, needing. “Jarett…”

I’m ready to beg. Endless nights of touching myself in my bed mean nothing—I need him to touch me. I have a feeling it won’t be the same.

“Tell me,” he says again.

“Touch me.”

He smiles, then. Not a smirk, not an arrogant grin, but a real smile. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

He yanks my panties down my legs, spreads my thighs, and buries his head between my legs. No warning, no escape.

His lips close over my swollen clit and suck until I cry out, writhing on the seat. I drop back, hitting the backrest, my thighs falling open wider, my eyes fluttering closed as his fingers part me, spread me apart and push into me.

He lets go of my clit only to lick my pussy, his tongue flat, dragging over every nerve ending, making me sob. My body is a live wire, jumping at every sensation.

I don’t know what to do with my hands on his shoulders. I lift them to his head, like he did to me before, and stroke the soft strands. His tongue swirls around my clit, lashes at it while his fingers fuck me slowly, deeply, and my hips lift from the chair.

Oh God. I thought it’d be better than my own hand, but this… this is going to break me to pieces. The pressure is mounting and mounting, bowing my body. I drop one hand from his silky hair to the chair, to anchor myself.

His teeth close gently over my clit, and I cry out. My God, this is so much, too much, just perfect, and I want… more. Gripping the edge of the chair in one hand, his hair in the other, I’m about to come apart. I’m rocking shamelessly against his face, and he sucks harder on my clit, his fingers scissoring inside me, his thumb teasing my back entrance…

I scream as I come, just as he promised. Who knew I was a screamer?

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