Page 29 of House of Wolves
Shit. A movie at his place would be the perfect situation for some spying. We’d make out, fuck, I could get him drunk again, he’d pass out, and then I could snoop through his shit. The idea excites me more than it should. I want to protest, but I hesitate. Whatever he has planned could still work. A date could always end up back in his bed.
I didn’t even say yes to the date. I might have plans.
You don’t have plans.
How do you know? I have a very active social life, thank you very much.
If you had plans, you would have said that before mentioning The Godfather.
Maybe I made plans since you’re stalling.
His reply doesn’t return immediately, and I smile, assuming I bested him. My phone rings, and horror washes over me. He wants to have a phone call. Ew. I let it go to voicemail, but he immediately calls me again. I sigh and pick up. “What?”
“What? How about hello?”
“Why are you calling? And how the fuck did you even get my number?”
He scoffs. “I’m a Sergeant. I have my ways, and I’m trying to plan something with you. Your messages are cryptic as fuck. I just need to know if you’re available tomorrow morning.”
“It depends.”
“Depends?”
“Yeah, depends on what you have in mind.”
“Can’t it be a surprise?”
Considering he’s a potential murderer, no, but I don’t say this. “Does it involve me getting hurt?”
He sighs. “Why would I bring you on a date where you get hurt?”
“I don’t know. Your last date involved you getting hammered drunk and me having to carry your huge ass back to my house. You’re lucky I’m a werewolf, or I’d never be able to manage.”
His voice softens. “I know I’m sorry. I was just… nervous.” He sounds sincere, and I feel bad for shitting on him. Only for a moment, though, and then I remember who he is. “I want to make it up to you, so I’ve planned something that will be fun and won’t involve alcohol.”
“Hmm.” I want to make him squirm.
After a moment of silence, he clears his voice. “Besides, I didn’t think the ending of our date was that horrible for you.”
I’m frozen in shock. Did he just say what I thought he said? Yes, we’re supposed to go on another date, and maybe I’m giving him a harder time than I should, but it’s an unspoken rule that we don’t bring up what happened in my bed. Especially for him since he left in such haste, obviously regretful. Does he think he can make me squirm, and I’ll fold? He should know me better than that.
“It was clearly a good time for you,” I reply.
“Clearly, but it could have been better.” Okay, ouch. Sure, I didn’t even touch his cock, but I’d like to think even my ass rubbing against his shaft was earth-shattering.
“What if that’s the best you're going to get?” I reply.
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know yet.”
His voice is low, airy, and thick. “You screamed my name with just an ounce of my attention. Imagine the sounds I could pull from you with my cock buried deep inside of you.” I pull the phone away from my ear, looking down at it with my mouth agape. There’s no fucking way he just said that to me. Who does he think he is? I adjust myself, sitting crisscross on my bed. My wet panties grab my attention. I like this more than I should. I probably made him sweat enough. I returned the phone to my ear, listening to his breath on the other end.
“And you came just from the feel of me. If I let you fuck me, you’d never recover.”
His voice shifts an octave lower. “Don’t worry about me, little wolf. You won’t catch me protesting if you want to ride me for hours.”
I scoff even as my hand clenches outside my lounge shorts. “You wish.”
