Page 79 of Ravaged Wolf
“Seducing youall the way.” My cheeks flame. The line might work for a female who wears high heels and long nails and those stockings that connect to your underwear with plastic bands, but I sound like I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m just making stuff up, which is not too far from the truth.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Are you?”
“Yes.” It’s a very determinedyes. It is not a confidentyes.
“Same,” I say. “I’m nervous.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.”
“I’ll stop any time you say. Immediately.”
“Okay.” We stare at each other, breathing hard, wanting and scared, nothing else in the world except the two of us. “I need you to do it. I—I can’t. I don’t know what to do next.”
“Okay,” he says. For a second, he’s silent, his jaw working, the pulse in his throat jumping. “Sit on the bed.”
I sink down on the edge, my thighs pressed tight together. My pussy throbs. My breasts ache.
“Lie back.”
I do. The frame creaks. I stare at the rough rafters and fold my hands over my waist.
There’s a soft thud. I crane my neck to see. Trevor has gone to his knees. The butterflies in my belly go bonkers.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“I’m embarrassed.”
“I’m so fucking excited. You smell so good, even from here. I can’t wait until you let me closer.”
Ieeklike a mouse.
He laughs, low and throaty.
“Okay, but I can’t look.”
“All right.” He rests his calloused palms on the top of my legs and nuzzles my thigh with his rough cheek. He drops a kiss on each of my knees. “Spread these.”
I squeak again and do what he says. He chuckles. His breath is warm on my skin. I drop my head back on the bed. My face is on fire, and every inch of my skin prickles with heat. He can see everything.I’venever seen me from that angle.
My knees clamp together out of reflex, but his hands are already holding me open, smoothing up my thighs as his shoulders brace my legs apart.
The room is quiet except for my shallow pants.
“You’re okay,” he says. “You’re so beautiful.” He presses a kiss to my mound, right above my achy clit.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. It feels wrong to keep them clasped on my stomach. I stick them straight at my sides and clutch the quilt.
“Trevor,” I gasp. I don’t know if I’m urging him on or asking for reassurance or what. My brain is a fuzzball. My body is vibrating.
“You’re okay,” he repeats, lifting my legs and placing my heels on the edge of the bed. “Let your knees fall open.”
I can’t. I’ll look like an obscene frog.
“Show me your pussy,” he says, gently nipping the plump bit of my inner thigh. “I’m your mate.”
