Page 86 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

His hands trail down my sides, pulling my shirt up just enough to expose my stomach. His lips follow, hot and insistent, and I arch into him, my breath hitching.

“Jason—”

“Shh.” He looks up, his eyes dark and hungry. “Just let me take care of you.”

I nod, because I can’t argue with that.

He sits back on his heels, his hands moving to the button of my jeans. I lift my hips, letting him slide them off, his fingers brushing my thighs like a promise.

“You’re too good at this,” I breathe, already feeling the heat pooling low in my stomach.

“Practice,” he says, grinning that crooked grin of his.

“Cheeky.”

“You love that too.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, his mouth finding my clit with a precision that makes my back arch off the floor. My hands grip his hair, tugging as he takes his time, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second.

“Jason,” I gasp, my hips rocking against him.

He hums against me, the vibration sending sparks up my spine. His hands grip my thighs, holding me in place as he works me over with a patience that’s maddening and perfect all at once.

The world narrows to the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his hands, the soft sounds he’s pulling from me. And when I finally come, his name on my lips, he’s there, holding me steady.

He sits back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, that damn grin still plastered across his face.

“See?” He says, leaning in to kiss me again, slow and sweet. “Better than schedules.”

The warmth of his mouth still lingers on my skin as I try to sit up, my legs shaky beneath me. I reach for my laptop, the screen still glowing with unfinished schedules. “Okay, now Ireallyneed to?—”

“Nope.” Jason’s voice is low, a rumble that sends a joly down my spine. His hands are on my hips before I can protest. “I’m not done with you yet.”

I laugh, the sound breathless and light. “You’re insatiable.”

“Guilty.” His lips brush the nape of my neck, his stubble scratching in that way that makes me squirm. “And you love it.”

“Do I?” I tease, but my voice cracks when his hands slide up my sides, pushing my shirt up and over my head. The cool air hits my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of him pressed against my back.

“You do.” His voice is a growl now, rough and possessive, and it sends a thrill through me. His hands grab my hips, turning me until I’m on my knees, the wood floor cool beneath me.

He smirks, his hands sliding down to my waist, pulling me back until I’m flush against him.

“Now, stay still.”

I bite my lip, my heart racing as he positions his cocks at my entrance, teasing me. His grips my hips, steadying me as he presses forward, slow and deliberate. I gasp, my fingers digging into the floor as he fills me, the stretch sending sparks up my spine.

“Jason,” I breathe, my voice trembling.

“Shh.” His hands move to my shoulders, pulling me back against him as he starts to move, each thrust deep and unhurried. “Just feel it.”

I do. The rhythm of him, the way his hands grip me, the way his breath hitches against my neck—it’s all I can focus on. My hands slide forward, bracing against the floor as he picks up the pace, his hips slamming into mine with a force that makes me cry out.

“That’s it,” he growls, his hands tightening on my hips. “Let go.”

I do, my body arching as the pleasure builds, hot and overwhelming. His name spills from my lips, a broken chant as he drives into me, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.

“Jason, I?—”

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