Page 61 of Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

It hurts, that’s how hard I’m clenching down there, my legs shaking, my pussy pulsing like a heart. Holy shit, this is so crazy good. His mouth is still on me, and I’m still rocking, unable to stop as the waves of pleasure crash through me.

The ceiling has a long crack bisecting it. I’m staring at it, sprawled on the chair, legs open, my panties on the floor.

Jarret is kneeling in front of me, looking smug.

Or satisfied?

Smug. Definitely.

“I should go.” I tug down the skirt of my dress, but it’s really short, not really covering me up. “Crap.”

“Hey.” He reaches down, adjusts himself through his pants. Is he hard again

? “That was beautiful.”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Now I know how you taste.” He wipes at his glistening lips and smiles.

“How then?”

“Like fucking sunlight. Like pleasure.”

Why is he saying those things? Those beautiful, confusing things.

“I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have stayed.” I bite my lip, my breath catching, a lump in my throat. Now the pleasure has ebbed, I can’t imagine what got into me. “I have to go.”

His smile fades. Slowly he gets up, picking up my panties. Before he gives them to me, he lifts them to his nose and inhales, eyes closing.

I snatch the lacy scrap from his hand and pull my panties on, avoiding his gaze.

I really shouldn’t have stayed, shouldn’t have given in. I know I’m right. I’m sure of it.

But as he limps over to the table and leans his hip against it, looking at me with those luminous wolf eyes full of shadows, I’m not sure I could have done anything else.

The apartment is cold as I walk to the door. Sweat is drying on my skin, making me shiver.

“Here,” he says, and his deep voice makes me shiver for an entirely different reason. He holds my jacket out to me, and I grab it and drag it on.

I can’t even remember removing it. This whole evening is like a strange dream.

“You could stay,” he says quietly.

“No, I should go.”

He arches a dark brow. “Kay, gimme your hand.”

My hand?

He brandishes a chipped ballpoint pen. He reaches for me and scribbles something on the palm of my hand. It tickles.

“What are you doing?” I tug my hand away.

“My number. If you need help in the future.”

“It wasn’t help for me.”

“I know. Your friend.” He shrugs. “That’s what you say you want.”

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