Page 15 of Howling
My cock is a piece of art, and I spent years learning how to use it to my best advantage.
Once she’s dickmatzied, she won’t be able to resist me.
I have it decorated all fancy with tattoos and sparkling bling.
Girls find it fascinating, often worshiping it on their knees.
When she doesn’t immediately fall at my feet, I scowl and huff out an aggravated sigh. “Please.”
I don’t care that I sound like an ungrateful prick. It’s more important that she put distance between herself and the fox. She purses her lips, eyes narrowed as she surveys me, and I find myself standing up straighter…which annoys me even more.
I grit my teeth, doing my best to smile, determined to charm the chit. Unfortunately, I don’t think I pulled it off, if the way she grimaces in return is any indication.
“Go.” Tyler nudges her gently, then snatches the pan from the ground where it dropped during the struggle and places it on the stove. “Sit and watch me work.”
It’s the flirty wink he sends her that pushes me over the edge. A growl rumbles in my chest, and I glare at the cocky little shit. He won’t be laughing tomorrow when I make him run laps…while I chase his ass.
I swallow the sound abruptly when the girl does what he says, sauntering toward me with a neutral expression. But she’s looking at me. I count that as a win. When she passes in front of me, taking a seat in the chair I indicated, my beast finally relaxes.
I’m not even conscious of leaning over to sniff her hair, unbothered in the least that I’m acting like a creep. It’s driving me wild that I can’t scent her at all. The sweet smell of magic lingers in the air, obscuring everything. I practically have to inhale the strands before I finally catch the delicious whiff of tangy lemons and sunshine.
The silken strands of her hair brush against my arm, and I shiver as pure lust courses through me at the contact. Thoughts of wrapping her hair around my fist, then wrapping my hand around my cock to jack myself off, fill my head, and cum leaks from my cock at the provocative image.
I’m unaware that I’m licking my lips until Tyler scowls and minutely shakes his head in warning. Fuck him. The poor bastard is just jealous. I smirk, my beast pleased that she’s within touching distance, the creature pretending that she chose us over him by taking the seat we offered.
I’m so distracted that I completely miss when her sharp elbow flies back and catches me in my diaphragm just right. Normally, I would shrug off such a simple blow, but she put so much power behind it that air whooshes out of my lungs in a rush. A grunt leaves me as I stumble back, and nearly a full minute passes before I can take a wheezing breath.
Maybe I should be pissed, but I’m even more fascinated by the woman.
Her scent is fucking delicious, and my fangs—like my erection—won’t go away, leaving me like an adolescent boy scenting his first pussy.
My fascination is dangerous. The logical side of me wants to fling her out the door, lock it, and wash my hands of her. My baser urges want me to toss her on the island, strip her bare, and feast on her cunt until she’s begging for mercy.
I’m a manwhore, I admit it, often going where my dick points, but I’ve never had such a stark reaction to a woman. My beast is practically panting over the bitch.
I don’t like the switch in roles.
It’s my job to leave the woman wanting more, not the other way around, and it makes me even more wary of her…but not enough to demand she scram.
She did save Tyler—twice, if what he said is to be believed. I refuse to owe anyone a favor, so I suck it up and keep my mouth shut. It has nothing to do with the thought of her leaving hungry and vulnerable, and I quickly banish that disturbing thought.
Emotions, especially feelings for the opposite sex, only lead to trouble.
I smother my concern for the girl, refusing to feel anything for her but apathy. After supper, she will be out the door, and we will never see her again.
I rub my chest when my beast hisses in displeasure, then he slams shut the connection between us, leaving me alone in my own head for the first time since puberty. It feels like half my senses vanish, leaving me cut off and adrift, like a drunk trying to walk a tightrope.
I glare at the girl, placing the blame right where it belongs—on her.
Just as I surmised, she’s already spreading chaos into our lives.
I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re never the same again.
CHAPTER FIVE
FRANKIE
“Dante,” Foxy snaps, glaring at the man hovering behind me. “Stop creeping on our guest and offer her a drink.”
