Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Oh I’m going to give it to you, Windows.” He eases in.
My breath catches at the stretch and the sweetness.
He catches my hip with one hand. “I’m going to give it to you hard. This is punishment, remember?”
God, yes! I choke on a little cry of excitement when he thrusts all the way in. Despite his words, he’s going slowly, giving me time to adjust to taking him fully before he starts to pump in earnest.
When he does, I’m in ecstasy. The rhythmic thrusts satisfy me at first then drive me wild as my need builds. Brick pulls out and flips me around, lifting one of my knees over his arm to spread me wide. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, and he’s standing over me so that when he lines his cock up and drills down into me, it goes deep.
I gasp and pant, claw at his thighs, his forearms. I’m seized with that panic that comes on the moment before I really come–when I’m terrified of losing control but realize it’s too late.
Brick must see it on my face because he pounds into me harder, locking gazes with me, his eyes glowing with a strange trick of the light. The eye contact terrifies me even more. The intensity.
I’m completely vulnerable to this man–not just sexually. Not financially. But emotionally. I’m afraid I’ll let him see the real me, and he’ll find me inadequate.
I hold my breath.
My orgasm crashes through me, and the panic washes into pleasure. Into trust and contentment. Deep satisfaction.
“Thank you,” I find myself saying before I check the words.
But I am grateful. I’m awash in gratitude and softness.
Brick leans forward and presses a static kiss to my lips again. He makes contact and holds a beat. It’s not perfunctory, it’s more like a reassurance. Like he saw my fear, and it was unfounded.
He won’t be cruel with me anymore. Not tonight, anyway.
Chapter Thirty-One
Madi
Blackthroat holds my hand when we go out to the dining room. I try to ignore the crazy things it does to my insides. The excitement and flutters it produces. The nerves.
I felt a little sick with myself over demanding more pay. I don’t know–it cheapened things in a way I didn’t anticipate. Here Blackthroat had just bared his soul to me–or as much as I suspect he ever bares it–and I’d thrown things back into the employer-employee realm. As if he hadn’t just saved my life, been worried sick over me and then made me come.
I’m self-reflective enough to know it was a defense mechanism. Keeping the game firmly in place helps me find my footing. I can be his administrative assistant. I’m very good at it. But I don’t really know how to be his lover. Or someone he might care about. In fact, it terrifies me. I both want it and don’t want it at the same time.
Because this is a guy who, if I let him in, could really destroy my heart. And I’m not going to be that young woman my mom was–left pregnant and alone by her rich boyfriend whose family didn’t deem her worthy.
Also… whoa. He cares about me? At least, enough to not want me to die in a helicopter or snow storm. This is a guy who hates most everyone, so I am taking that as the hugest compliment ever, whether it means he has actual, deep feelings for me or just a passing attraction and doesn’t want me to die.
When we reach the living room, a small boy playing on the carpet jumps up and cries, “Uncle Brick!” He runs, takes one vaulting step on the couch and hurls his little body through the air, over a coffee table in the craziest flying leap I’ve ever seen.
Blackthroat catches him and spins around. “Whoa, buddy. That was fast. I almost didn’t see you coming.”
My heart squeezes. There’s something so meltingly sexy about discovering a gruff alpha-hole has a sweet side with children.
“Oh my God, did you see how far he flew?” I exclaim. Because, seriously. I’ve never seen a kid jump that far. I swear he just vaulted fifteen feet. Maybe my spatial orientation is off. “How was that possible? You have a superkid for a nephew.”
“Madison, this is Auggie, short for August. He’s Ruby and Eagle’s son.”
“Hi Auggie. Your Uncle Brick calls me Madison, but I prefer Madi.”
Blackthroat’s lips twitch,and he settles a hand on my lower back. I find it both protective and comforting. Almost–dare I say–affectionate.
“How old are you Auggie?” I ask the exuberant child.
“Five.” He holds up five fingers then sprints away.
A younger girl skids over in her rainbow tights and a unicorn sweater dress. She has big brown eyes with long lashes and a cherubic face. She can’t be more than three. “Did you rescue your assistant, Uncle Brick?” she asks. She has to slow down over the word ass-is-tant.