Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
I relax into the feeling of his tongue dragging through my folds and then spearing inside me. Okay, this is better than nice. At least Wolf appreciates a good tongue fucking. He moves up to suck on my clit, drawing a little moan from my lips. “Fuck.”
Behind him, the door swings silently open.
My orgasm is bearing down on me, and at some point my hands found their way into his hair, so it doesn’t register at first that we’re no longer alone. At least until the masked man steps into the bathroom.
Did I think the silver fox with his tongue in my pussy had a dangerous aura? What a joke. My blood practically ices over the moment he steps into the room. His mask is a stylized skull with cheekbones that seem sharper than they should be, eye sockets deep enough that I can’t see his eyes, and teeth hiding his mouth. He’s dressed in a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up and jeans, both totally nondescript. His mundane clothing doesn’t detract from the menace rolling off him in waves.
This is the real Wolf.
He eases the door shut behind him and leans against it, arms crossed.
Oh fuck. I’m in so much trouble. I try to pull on not-Wolf’s hair to get him off me, but he just moans and sucks my clit harder. Even with fear so thick in my throat that I can taste it—or maybe because of it—my orgasm rises again, sharper this time. “Stop,” I murmur. He doesn’t stop. And then it’s too late. I come with a cry that feels like a warning.
A warning he doesn’t heed. As soon as I orgasm, not-Wolf shoves to his feet, and his hands go to the front of his pants. He never gets a chance to get his cock out.
My Wolf moves. He grabs a fistful of the man’s hair and yanks his head back. I barely get a chance to scream before he slices a long knife over the man’s throat. Hot blood sprays my chest and thighs and pussy.
The body slumps to the ground, and Wolf takes his place. “You’ve been a bad girl, Red.” And that, that is the voice that’s been talking low and threatening to me on the other end of the phone.
“I—”
He grabs my hips and jerks me off the counter while spinning me around to pin me against it. In the mirror, his mask makes him look like a death god, come to punish me for my transgressions.
At my feet, the body is still twitching. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Wolf leans down until the cool surface of his mask touches my face. “Always so eager to give this pussy away to those undeserving.” He spears two fingers into me from behind.
I cry out, and I can’t begin to say if it’s in protest or demand for more. I brace my hands on the counter and tilt my hips, giving him better access. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” He wedges a third finger into me. He’s being rough, but fuck, it feels good. “But you will be.”
Against all reason, pleasure coils tightly inside me. He’s found my G-spot, and he’s working it in rough, short strokes. I can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything but make a pathetic whimpering sound. “Wolf, please.”
He jerks his fingers out of me and flips me to face him. “Back on the counter.”
I resume my position on the bathroom counter. He clasps my throat loosely with one gloved hand. It kills me that I can’t see his eyes. I might as well be touched by some otherworld being. Too much distance, and yet I love it all the same.
“Open your legs for me and accept your punishment.”
I don’t hesitate. I spread my legs for him and moan against his hand around my throat as he shoves three fingers back into me. He circles my clit with his thumb and curls his fingers against my G-spot.
“Oh, f—”
“What did I tell you about that language, Red?” He presses down on my throat, cutting off my air even as he winds me up higher and higher.
It feels so fucking good that I attempt to drag in a breath, but there’s no air to be had. I wrap my hands around his wrist, trying to get him to back off, but he just pins me harder. He’s not crushing me, but I can’t fucking breathe, and holy shit, oh gods.
I orgasm. It’s as if every bit of my panic transforms into pleasure, and he eases his palm back so I can drag in a long inhale of sweet oxygen, and then I’m coming even harder. It feels like my bladder is going to give out, and I squirt all over his hand and forearm. Only then does he start fucking me slowly with his fingers, in long strokes that draw my orgasm out. I look down and belatedly realize he’s still wearing his leather gloves.