Page 30 of House of Wolves
“And you don’t?”
“No.” My voice holds no confidence.
“Then why are you straining to reach between your legs?” I whip my head around my room, my throat constricting. “Are you watching me right now?”
He laughs. “So you are tempted to touch yourself. You play a big game, Carmen, but I can always read you. Even now, I can feel your arousal through the phone.”
“And what about you? I bet you're rubbing your hand over your cock, imagining my ass grinding against you,” I say with annoyance.
“No, I’m imagining much more than that.”
I rub at myself from the outside of my shorts. It’s subconscious, and I hate myself for it, but his words make my body unable to control. “Like what?” I hate the question. Even as I try to mask it disdainfully, it comes out much too breathy.
“I’m imagining you straddling me, rubbing your velvet cunt up my length. Nearly getting off just from the texture of me.”
“Can’t even fuck me in your fantasies, huh?”
He tsks. “Carmen, real men don’t fuck right away. I have to get you soft and malleable for me first, so you’re squelching around my cock.”
Somehow, my hand has made its way down my shorts and beneath my soaking underwear. I move slowly as if Brick can hear me if I pick up my pace. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what his oddly sensual words are doing to me. A heavy breath escapes me, and I clamp my lips, but it’s too late. I can hear the smile on his stupid face. He goes on, “I’d let you slide over my dick until you can’t take it anymore, clenching me in your small hands and positioning my swollen head at your entrance, but I’d pull you back.”
I scoff, my fingers now circling my clit, annoyed but too aroused to do anything else.
He continues. “No, I won’t let you ride my cock until you beg me to fuck you.”
I laugh this time. “I’d never beg you. I won’t have to.”
“Oh, you sound so sure.”
“If my cunt was anywhere near you, you’d come from the sight of it.”
“Maybe,” he offers. “But I can keep coming, little wolf.” What the fuck is with his new nickname for me? I can’t say I hate it. At least not right now, with my ecstasy mixing in with my hate. “I’d use my cum to help me fit. It won’t be easy to sheath inside of you, but I’d make it work. I’d make it so good for you.”
I’m lost now, unable to think of words, only moans leaving my lips. I’ve ended up on my back somehow, my fingers rubbing my sensitive bud without caution. My brain clouds with his words, imagining his hand down my panties.
“That’s it. Moan for me. Just like that.” I cry out, not letting up the pressure. “Oh, fuck.” he whimpers, and I realize he’s probably touching himself too. I have to know. “Where are your hands, Brick?” I ask.
“Wrapped around my cock.”
I moan, my brain picturing him lounging in a dark room, his legs spread wide as he yanks himself from tip to base. I’d do anything to see him right now.
“God, Carmen. You’d feel so much better. I’d already been filling you by now.”
My orgasm washes over me. I edged myself even to make it this long. I scream out, wringing out every last drop. Bricks moans echo in my ear, eliciting another wave of ecstasy.
Only a moment of silence passes between us as we catch our breaths. I wait for him to sputter apologies and hang up. Whenever he shows me any level of attraction, it seems to be against his will. But to my surprise, his commanding voice doesn’t waver. “Don’t make plans Sunday morning. I’ll pick you up at ten.” He hangs up. Leaving me sated, confused, and pissed the fuck off.
14
Truffle Pig
Menalwaysthinkthey’reso clever whenever they propose a surprise date. It’s sweet in theory, but in reality, it’s annoying as shit trying to figure out what to wear. We could go deep sea scuba diving for all I know, and I could land on a ball gown. I settled on a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan. It’s the morning, after all, so my ensemble shouldn’t require any frills.
I stand in my driveway, arms crossed over my chest, and not letting amusement grace my face as Brick pulls in. He parks, giving a tight-lipped smile. I guess he’s not opening the door for me. My stomach bundles at the thought of our conversation yesterday as I stomp to the passenger side and climb inside.
“Hello,” I say, not brave enough to meet his eyes. He just nods as a greeting before backing out and driving down the road.
If I thought the car ride was awkward during our last date, I was gravely mistaken. The silence coating us brings a whole new meaning to the word uncomfortable. One minute, Brick is stoic and uncaring; the next, hate lights his eyes, and then bam, he turns into a dungeon Daddy and whispers dirty things into my ear and drags orgasms from me without even touching my skin. This must be one of the most infuriating things about Brick, and boy, there is a lot. I can’t pretend it doesn’t thrill me, but most of all, it makes me hate him even more. My secret spy seduction act fairs much more difficult with a target like Brick.
