relief. Thank God. Tania had told her all about the disappearing clothes thing all the guys used, and… oh, Nelly. Her sister had been right. The trick belonged in the record books, in the oh-thank-you-baby-Jesus section.
Planting his fists on either side of her, Wick pushed upward to land on his knees. As he straddled her leg and palmed her walking cast, J.?J. ran the gauntlet, letting her gaze skim over him. She swallowed. Had she said strong earlier? Well, stacked sounded better. Ripped worked too, ’cause… holy moly. He was a golden-skinned god, muscle poured over bone, so hard-bodied he took her breath away. Anticipation sizzling in her veins, her mouth parted on a long, drawn-out sigh. The rip of Velcro sounded as Wick undid the straps holding her footwear in place.
J.?J. barely noticed. She was too busy staring, wondering if he would…
Curiosity made her reach out.
Licking over her bottom lip, she caressed him with her fingertip. His erection bobbed. White cream pearling on the tip, Wick twitched. Hands still cupping her calf, he cursed and closed his eyes. She stroked him again. His hips curled toward her as though asking for more. Growing bolder, she pushed up onto one elbow and wrapped her hand around him.
“My God, Wick.” Soft skin poured over hot steel. So hard. So thick. So ready to please her. “How about we put this to work?”
With a snarl, Wick ripped that last strap free. Gentle hands pulled the cast from her foot. Impatient ones flung it over the end of the bed. “Not until I taste you.”
The reminder of what he wanted to do to her set her cheeks on fire. As the blush spread, heating her face, J.?J. tightened her grip and stroked him from base to tip. “Later. We have lots of—”
“No. Now.”
With another “fuck,” he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand free. Hooking the waistband of her sweats, he peeled her out of her pants. The lacy panties went next, leaving her wearing nothing but skin. J.?J. froze as he looked her over, skimming her body with predatory intent. Possessiveness too. And in the moment, she felt owned… as though he held the deed to every inch of her. With a low growl, he cupped her breasts. His thumb brushed over her nipples, teasing her, exciting her, making her want as his gaze traveled to the dark curls at the junction of her thighs.
Breathing hard, she watched him swallow and… oh God. She knew what he was thinking. He was imagining what she tasted like there. She could see it on his face, hear the whisper in his mind, feel the anticipation rushing in his blood. The connection should’ve scared her. Instead it heightened the intensity, sending bliss unfurling like a whip. As each stroke lashed her, J.?J. lost control. She pulsed deep inside, squirmed on the sheets, the mere thought of having him between her thighs making her throb with anticipation.
“Please. Wick, please just—”
“As you wish.” Tracing her curves, he stroked over sensitive skin, his focus absolute. The heat of his mouth brushed over her belly, then drifted away. Needing an anchor to ground her, J.?J. buried her hands in his hair, begging without words to be taken. Leaving moist tracks on her skin, Wick paused to kiss her mound of top curls. “Invite me in, baby… I’m hungry.”
So was she, but J.?J. obeyed anyway and—
“Oh God. What are you… holy shit… oh… my… God!”
J.?J. writhed as he settled between her thighs. He showed no mercy, stroking deep with his tongue, licking between her folds, whipping her into a bliss-fueled frenzy. And she begged. Begged for release. Begged for more pleasure. Begged for him. Promised him whatever he wanted in return for the orgasm she could feel coming, but couldn’t catch. God, she wanted it. Needed the rush of delight, and for him to keep his word. He’d promised to ride her hard and make her scream. But even as she reminded him, he took his time, extending his enjoyment as he reveled in her taste. As he worshiped at the source, tongued the nub at the top of her sex, driving her mad as he drank deep and made her body weep.
“Mmm baby, you’re so wet. So hot. So fucking sweet.” Treating her to another round, he sucked harder, arching her spine off the mattress. As she whimpered, he growled, “Come for me, Jamison. Right now. I want to taste it.”
His words released her, flinging her into a pleasure palace of his making.
The explosion set her free, and as she flew into the bliss of rapture, Wick lifted his head from between her thighs. His hips replaced his mouth, pushing her legs wider. Whispering her name, he set the thick head of his shaft against her core and…
She came again the second he thrust deep.
Shockwaves lit off, drowning her in delight. Buried to the hilt inside her, he shouted, the sound half-roar, half-curse, and withdrew only to come right back. Flex and release. Thrust and retreat. He rocked her with the power of his body, giving her everything, taking it all, doing what he promised, making her scream his name as he pushed her to the brink, throbbed inside her, then followed her over the edge into oblivion.
A whole afternoon spent in sexual play.
Wick still couldn’t believe it. He’d not only survived, but thrived in the circle of a female’s arms.
Lucky bastard didn’t begin to describe him.
Still deep inside her, not wanting to let go, Wick gripped her hips and fell back onto the mattress. Breathing hard from the latest round of lovemaking, she moaned—amping him up, making him so proud his heart expanded—and slumped forward, falling into him, trusting him to catch her. Cupping her face, he kissed her again, licking into her mouth before enfolding her in his embrace. She murmured his name as her breasts touched down on his chest and… yum. She felt like heaven, and he couldn’t get enough: of the contact, of her inferno-like heat, and the way she trusted him to keep her safe. Skin-to-skin. Heart-to-heart. She made him believe she belonged to him. And as she nestled in, pressed her cheek to his heart, and sighed in contentment, Wick thanked his lucky stars yet again.
Beautiful, beautiful female. Precious beyond words.
“My God,” she mumbled, shifting her hips before she went boneless against him. The wiggle pushed him deeper inside her. Wick groaned, loving the raw burn of pleasure. Man, he was sensitive. So ready to go again. Insatiable when it came to her. Unable to get enough of what she did to him. “I had no idea it could be so good.”
Neither had he. Live and learn. An excellent way to go.
And he just might, considering Jamison’s appetite… and his need to appease it. She’d ridden him hard that last time. Liked being on top. Enjoyed watching him while she taunted and teased. Reveled in the rasp of his voice as he begged her for release. Another first. He didn’t beg. For anything. It was one of those rules he lived by, but… shit. She blew that to hell about an hour in, forcing him to submit while she took the wheel.
And drove him straight over the edge.
For the… well, he didn’t know what number that had been.
He’d lost count—along with his mind—somewhere after the second round. Now all he wanted to do was hold her and wallow in the afterglow of physical conquest. Hers over him. His over her. Wick didn’t care which qualified. It didn’t matter. Both worked for him, even though he knew it couldn’t last.
The thought weighed on his heart. A heavy burden to carry. Especially since their time together was almost up.
He could feel the stir in the lair. His brothers were awake, up for the night and busy helping Daimler prepare for the mating ceremony. Any minute now someone would come bang on his door… and steal Jamison away. Take her from his arms and tell her to get dressed. To do her part. To take her place around the sacred circle. Bare witness as Tania married a member of his pack.
Battling the urge to lock her in his room and keep her all to himself, Wick brushed her dark hair over her shoulder. One hand playing in the thick strands, he stroked the other down her back. She purred, stirring beneath his touch. He hummed. So soft. So sweet. So unabashed in her passion. “Jamison?”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me another secret.”
