Page 79 of Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

Giving in to him again. Giving myself up to his sexy voice and clever hands, his hot kisses and my need for him.

He leans in closer, until I see the different greens in his eyes, and flecks of gold swimming in the iris. “Say it,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“I want to hear you say it. Say you want me.”

Is he blind? Is he stupid? Can’t he see he has me at his mercy? And yet a stubborn part of me refuses to obey.

“Gigi.” His thumb stills between my legs, and he bends his head to bite at the side of my neck, jolting me with pinpricks of pain.

Still I say nothing.

He grunts, pulls his hand out of my panties, and yanks down the straps of my bra, down my arms, letting my breasts spill out.

He cups one, massages my nipple with his thumb, the same thumb that was between my legs seconds ago, and the scent of my arousal hits me. I moan, the pain/pleasure of his grip on my breast, on my sensitive nipple, shooting pleasure straight to my pussy.

Bending over, he takes the other nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and I cry out, a blaze making its way into my core. My hips roll restlessly. I need something.

I need him inside me.

His hot mouth lets go of my aching nipple, and he kisses my mouth, a quick, savage kiss that leaves me breathless.

“I want you,” he whispers against my lips, “I want you to want this. To want me.”

Not a question, or a demand. There’s a break in his voice, a hairline crack, an uncertainty I didn’t expect, and it makes me weak. Makes me wish I could tell him how I really feel.

But I don’t, and the moment stretches until it snaps.

He draws back. “Fine,” he says, still softly, voice still broken. “Let’s fuck.”

One moment I’m standing there in my underwear and boots, his thumb pressing on my clit, holding me prisoner—and the next I’m pushed down on my knees, in a position that’s starting to feel familiar when I’m with Jarett.

It feels wrong—after this foreplay, his request, this rare crack in his defenses, unless I imagined it?—that we seem to be right back where we started.

Where he’s using me for his pleasure, and no matter how sexy that is, deep down I’d been hoping… for something else. Something more.

I reach up and unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants, aroused and too hot, and yet wanting to cry. The backs of my eyes sting, and I have to swallow hard as I kneel there, my breasts bared, my panties soaked.

What am I doing? Why am I doing this to myself?

My vision is blurring, but my hands don’t want to stop. They tug on his pants, pulling them down, finding him bare underneath, as expected. I put my hand on his hard-on. My pussy clenches when I wrap my fingers around it, when he grunts low in his throat.

My mouth shouldn’t water at the sight, at the thick veins, the size of him. My body shouldn’t want him.

Not when dark memories keep welling up, threatening to drown me.

When he tears the foil packet open and hands me the condom, I put it on his cock, roll it down his length, just as I tell myself I should get up.

Get up and go. Fight the haze in my head, this maddening desire.

But his hands close around my forearms, and he pulls me back on my feet. I gasp when his hard cock presses into my stomach, hot and big.

His mouth curls into a crooked smirk, then he lifts one of my legs, boot and all, around his thigh, against his muscular ass, spreading me wide. Until I’m standing on tiptoes and straining, off-balance and at his mercy.

And then he shoves his cock into me.

It’s a slow push, and even so it’s too big, too much. My body rebels at the intrusion, my legs trying to close, keep him out, but he just lifts my leg higher and pushes deeper, making me cry out.

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