Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
He braced his hands against the wall, keeping his arms straight. “Ride me.”
Frankie locked her legs around him as she gripped his shoulders and rode his cock like their survival depended on it. All the while, his mouth drove her insane—sucking on her neck, biting her earlobe, teasing her claiming bite, and whispering some seriously dirty fantasies down her ear.
“Come on, Frankie, fuck me.” He slipped one wet finger inside the bud of her ass, and her pace faltered. “I didn’t tell you to stop. Move.” She resumed rising and falling, so that she was fucking both his cock and his finger. “Harder, Frankie, make yourself come.”
And then it happened. White-hot pleasure blasted through Frankie like a hot wind, trapping a scream in her throat and making her pussy ripple around the cock that throbbed deep inside her. Just as it distantly occurred to her that he hadn’t come, he lifted her off his cock and pushed on her shoulder.
“Get on your knees, Frankie,” Trick growled. A little dazed, she did as she was told. “That’s it. Open your mouth.” The moment she parted those lips, he thrust inside. He wasn’t careful or gentle. He gripped her hair as he fucked her mouth, frantically punching his hips. Then his release barreled into him and he exploded, blowing his load right down her throat.
He closed his eyes as it all drained out of him—the anger, the frustration, the thirst for vengeance. Slipping his hands under her arms, Trick pulled her to her feet. He held her to him, burying his face in her neck, rocking her loose body from side to side. “You always do that.”
“What?” she slurred, weakly stroking his back.
“Bring me peace.” He pressed a lingering kiss to her hair. “Missed you.” Those few hours without her had felt a hell of a lot longer. Maybe because, for a while, he hadn’t been himself.
“It was no fun going to bed without you. Let’s not do that often.”
He smiled. “Agreed.” He breathed her in. His heart stuttered. “Our scents have mixed.”
Frankie’s nostrils flared, and she grinned. “That means the bond is strengthening, right?”
“Right. And now everyone will now you’re mine just by your scent.”
“I’d roll my eyes if I didn’t get the same satisfaction from that idea.” After they’d both washed their hair and rinsed away the suds, they stepped out of the shower and dried off. It wasn’t until they were in bed—him on his back, her nestled against his side—that she spoke again. “I don’t want to put a downer on the mood, and I know you’d rather not talk about it, but I’d like to know whether Drake—”
“He can never hurt you again.”
Meaning he was dead, she thought. “Then what’s troubling you?” She’d have expected him to feel better now that he’d had his vengeance. “You feel bad for killing him?”
“Fuck no.” Sighing, Trick skimmed his fingers up and down her back. “He said that Morelli sent him to kidnap you.” He relayed everything Drake had told him.
Frankie traced the lines and dips of his abs as she spoke. “He could be telling the truth. I mean, extremists have tried to provoke our kind into starting a war, but we formed The Movement instead. If they want the war bad enough, they need to try something else. And it would be smart to try to recruit a shifter they can work with. Not that I believe they wouldn’t actually kill Morelli. He might not even believe that they’d let him live. They might simply be content on using each other.”
“If he was telling the truth, Morelli planned to serve us to the extremists on a silver fucking platter.” His wolf peeled back his upper lip.
“I’d say it’s time for Trey to have a talk with him.”
“Tried that. Morelli’s number is no longer in use.” That could mean a lot of things—none of which he wanted to explore right then. “Let’s not talk anymore about that fucker.” Trick caught her hand and kissed her palm. “How did the rest of your night go?”
“Good.”
“No males were hanging around, trying to steal you from me?”
She chuckled. “No.”
“No one gave you any problems?”
“No.”
The slight hesitation before she spoke made him frown, especially since agitation briefly spiked down their bond. “What happened?”
She sighed. “I was going to tell you tomorrow. You have enough shit on your mind tonight.”
“I want to know.” He pulled her on top of him so he could better look her in the eye. “Tell me now.”
She bit her lip, resting her chin on his chest. “Rio was a little . . . unfriendly.”
Fucker. “Define unfriendly.”
“He basically indicated that, as I don’t have a dick, he believed I wasn’t what you needed. He thinks you’re gay—or at least mostly gay. And if what Marcus said is right, he’s bitter that pursuing you never worked out for him.”