Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Brick groans–a helpless sound. He wraps an arm around my waist and thrusts up now, lifting me to my toes with each pump. That’s better. Exactly where I need it.
“Yes…yes,” I cry out.
“Oh, fates.” Brick pumps harder, lifting and lowering me to meet his thrusts. It’s too much–I’m out of control, out of my mind, out of breath. But for once, I surrender.
I trust Brick to hold me up. To carry me through. To make me come.
He shouts, thrusting a few more times, then stays deep as he reaches around and rubs my clit. I come in a glorious burst of color and flavor and love.
His teeth graze my neck, and I find myself almost craving another bite–that satisfaction of his mark on me becoming visceral.
Time goes still. The aftershocks of our orgasms continue as we pant as one.
And then Brick takes over again, easing out of me, picking me up in a honeymoon carry and taking me out of the shower. He wraps a giant fluffy towel around me, nuzzling the spot on my shoulder that bears his bite mark. Slowly, reluctantly, he peels his hands off my bare arms and leaves my side to turn off the water.
Now that I’m looking at it up close, the gash on his side looks even worse. My brain comes back on line. “Was that made with teeth or claws?”
Brick
My darling mate. There’s no turning off that brilliant mind of hers. She’s already digging in, requesting more information for her to process.
“Teeth.” I dry her off, then wrap her in a fresh towel and pick her up to set her on the bathroom counter while I quickly towel off.
I’m surprised at how much I still physically need her.
I would have thought marking her would have taken the edge off, and it has, but not to the extent I expected. The entire time I was away this morning, my wolf was desperate to be with her.
Maybe it’s because I fear she’s in danger.
Or because I actually did go moon mad, and these are the after-effects. I’m still desperate to claim Madi, even though she’s already mine.
“What does the other guy look like?”
“I showed mercy.”
My father would’ve made him fight to the death for even having the audacity to challenge. I don’t think adding trauma to the shifter’s family–my pack members– strengthens my position as a leader.
“You heal quickly,” she observes.
There’s still so much she doesn’t know about us–including the basics like our healing properties and how a pack functions. She may have saved my life by coming to me in my moon madness, but we still have oceans to bridge.
Oceans I have no idea how to navigate.
“Yes. It will be gone in a few days. How is your wound?” I examine her puncture marks–the ones from my teeth. The site is not infected. It’s healed faster than a normal human wound because I’ve been licking it, and my saliva has healing properties, but it will still leave a scar.
She touches it. “I’m okay. No change since this morning.” She reminds me that I’ve already examined her today. Her voice has a note of stiffness in it that makes me wince.
“Brick…you literally locked me in here when you left. With a key. That is unacceptable.”
I knew this conversation was coming. At least my wolf is calm after giving her pleasure. Using the key was idiotic on my part, but I didn’t have time to explain myself, and my wolf was frantic to keep her safe.
I turn away. As a leader, I’m used to hiding weakness or indecision–and Madison is my weakness.
“I’m sorry. That was wrong, Madi. I heard about an uprising and had to make quick decisions about how to quell it. I was afraid for your safety–that’s the only reason I locked you inside. It was overkill, I know.”
“The next time you lock me inside here, I will set fire to your penthouse,” she says in that same efficient, professional way she negotiated her way to a raise. “Then we’ll see how safe it is to lock a human in an apartment with no exit.”
I sense the color drain from my face. I scrub my hand over it. “Right. Fire hazard.”
“Fire hazard. Prison–whatever you want to call it, it doesn’t work. You don’t lock me in a room or a building ever. I don’t care how scared you are for my safety. That doesn’t work for me.”
“I’m sorry, Madi.”
Some of her professionalism drops away, and I glimpse uncertainty in her gaze.
I step in close and cradle her face in my hands. “I know we still have a lot to figure out.”
She nods. “I thought we would be figuring things out. Together. Not you making unilateral Big Bad Boss decisions and locking me in your apartment.”
I wince again. “That was wrong. Let me make it up to you. I never got to court you properly. I’ll take you on a date tonight. Better yet, we could fly somewhere. Have you been to Paris? No–somewhere warm. A beach. Just you and me. A chance for us to get on the same page.”