Текст книги "Wolf Bait"

Автор книги: Nina West

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter Twenty

I’ve always hated nylons.

They’re itchy and confining, and, without a doubt, I always end the day with a snag in them somewhere. My mama made me wear them to church growing up, even on the hottest summer days. She said it was improper to go bare legged. Only heathens do that, apparently. I guess my mama and the uniform decision-makers at Wolf agree on something, because one of the requirements is that all females must wear nylons with their uniform dresses.

And I still hate them.

I hate them so much that I sat in Henry’s living room and peeled them off with a loud sigh of relief. And the fitted pencil skirt that isn’t meant to be worn while wrestling with a fitted sheet? That came off fifteen minutes later, allowing me freedom to crawl around the king-sized mattress because the bloody corners of this ill-fitting elastic won’t stay down today.

I don’t bother putting them back on right away. I watched Henry’s boat float away with him, Belinda, and a dozen guests on board. He won’t be home for hours and, with my white button-down shirt barely covering my panties and my hair pulled up in a messy bun, cleaning Henry’s cabin suite has been a hundred times easier and faster, and a hundred times more comfortable.

Now finished, I push the nightstand back to its place and flip the switch to turn off the vacuum. Peaceful silence fills the cabin once again. I heave a sigh, giving my sore neck a rub.

“This is a new take on the uniform.”

I squeal and spin around to find Henry standing in the entrance to the bedroom, the nylons that I left on the couch dangling from his fingertips. His normally cool, guarded mask is off, but I can’t read the dark and thoughtful look that sits there now.

My face bursts into flames. “Your boat just left. You were on it! What are you doing back so soon?” The whir of the vacuum masked the sound of the door opening. I should probably be diving for my skirt, instead of standing here like a deer caught in headlights beside his bed, but I’m not sure that this moment could get any worse.

“I didn’t realize I’d have to check in to make sure my assistant was fully dressed before coming home,” he says dryly, loosening his tie with his free hand and tossing it onto his dresser.

“This uniform is not meant for maid work. I should be wearing a maid’s uniform, if you’re going to expect that I clean this place,” I say in weak defense, hiding one bare leg behind the other. There is no excuse for coming home to find your personal assistant half-naked in your suite.

Shit, shit, shit. I can’t stop screwing up with him. I don’t blame him if he finally decides to fire me. I have it coming.

Only, I’m pretty sure he won’t.

He reaches behind him and pulls the door, letting it coast shut. The simple action makes my stomach tighten with nervousness. And excitement. There’s something entirely erotic about being caught half-dressed in Henry’s room. “One of the guests on the boat had a family emergency that they needed to tend to. Given I had already done plenty of socializing, I decided to hop off when we returned. And I’m not exactly dressed for a boat ride.” He takes slow, measured steps toward me, until he’s only a few feet away. He slides his suit jacket off to lay it on the bed and I inhale deeply, the smell of his cologne intoxicating.

This is so inappropriate. “I’m sorry. This won’t happen again, I promise. Or the shower thing.” I swallow. “Or the spa thing.” I wonder if that confidentiality agreement extends to cover me from this kind of embarrassing situation.

Are we destined to be one inappropriate situation after the next, for the entire summer?

“That’s right. The spa thing.” He steps around me, circling me. It’s an unnerving, almost predatory move on his part. A shiver runs down my spine. “Tell me what you were doing in that room with Katie Montgomery?”

I swallow. He knows who she is, just like he knew who Lorraine was. Does he know everything about everyone? Or just everything about me? “Some personal grooming.”

“Eyebrows and underarms take no more than ten. Legs take much longer. You have no issues with facial hair. So that leaves only one place.”

I gasp when his hand slips between my legs to skate across my inner thighs.

My body responds despite my confusion, the throb between my legs that never truly abated since that day in the woods surging again. Is this really happening? Is he touching me there?

“If we are going to continue to work together, we need to be open and honest with each other from now on. So I’ll ask you again, because you never answered me the other day.” His eyes never leave my face, something dangerous gleaming in them now. “Did you enjoy watching me jerk off in the shower?”

I shut my eyes. He’s never going to let me forget that.

“Abbi.” It’s nearly a growl.

I let myself nod, my eyes still closed.

“Is that something you’ve seen before?”

I shake my head, unable to find my voice.

“Look at me.”

I force myself to open my eyes, to find him smiling. I trail his gaze as it drifts down over my bare legs. I was cursing the blouse’s length this morning when attempting to tuck it into the top of my skirt. Now, I couldn’t love it more for hiding my ratty white cotton underwear. I need to invest in some new pairs.

His strong hand grips my jaw, gentle but firm, forcing my head back until I meet his eyes. Finally, they’re unguarded. Finally, they show something that I recognize and can identify, even if I don’t believe it—desire.

Finally...

“It was not supposed to be like this. You were not supposed to have this kind of impact on me,” he whispers, leaning in to skim his wet lips over mine, never actually kissing me. Torturing me, as he has become so good at doing.

“I thought you didn’t like sweet.” I don’t know how I’m even capable of answering.

He smirks. “I don’t. But the idea of turning my sweet little assistant filthy is driving me insane.”

I gasp as his hand slides over the curve of my hip, his fingers curling around and then squeezing my small waist. Am I dreaming all this? Is Henry Wolf—my gorgeous billionaire boss who could have anyone he wants—lusting for me?

He edges around until my back is to his chest, the heat radiating off his body, his hand shifting to my other hip, his fingertips smoothing over my taut stomach. “You were jealous of your roommate yesterday. Tell me why. And be unabashedly honest. Please.”

I hesitate. Can I really talk to him so openly? “Because I wanted you to look at me like that. I wanted to be her.” But Rachel is fired, so maybe I don’t want to be her.

He chuckles against my ear, the vibration coursing all the way down to my nipples, tightening them. “She’s a dime a dozen. Do you want to know why I was looking at her like that?”

I nod. Do I? Henry’s so unpredictable, I can’t be sure that what comes out of his mouth won’t be hurtful.

“Because I’m guessing she was one of the roommates who you watched get tongue fucked. That’s what you saw, isn’t it?”

I open my mouth to deny it, but he pushes, “Don’t be shy with me. I don’t want shy.”

I nod and I feel his smile against my ear.

“I started to picture you getting wet while watching her. And the thought of you getting wet, of this body,” both his hands are on my hips, hovering over the elastic of my panties, gripping me tightly, “writhing naked on my bed, with your legs spread and waiting for me to teach you everything you’ve been missing.” The room is beginning to sway with his words. My legs wobble and his grip tightens. He won’t let me fall. “That’s why I was looking at her like that. I don’t want her.”

But apparently he wants me.

My skin flushes as one of his warm, large hands dips beneath the elastic of my panties to cup me between the legs. He groans. “Why did you do this?”

“I don’t know.”

“The truth,” he pushes, his hot, moist breath coating my skin. I tip my head to the side, hoping his mouth will find my neck.

“I wanted to be more like Rachel. Someone you might look at.” I pause. “Do you not like it?”

My knees buckle as his finger slides through my slit once, so slowly. “So you did it for me?”

“Yes.” I don’t... It’s hard to focus. Henry Wolf has his hand in my panties. He wants me.

His finger makes another pass, teasing my clit on its way past. “Fuck, you are soaked. Do you want me to stop?”

I should, for so many reasons. “No,” I whisper shakily. All of me is shaking, even my legs. But it’s not with fear. It’s with anticipation. “I thought this couldn’t happen.”

His hand stills and I’m afraid I said the wrong thing. Oh God, I hope I didn’t. These have been the longest days of my life. I can’t bear the idea of him stopping now.

I part my legs more, hoping he’ll get the message—that I don’t want him to stop.

“I don’t give a fuck about what we can and can’t do.” His free hand coils around the back of my long hair. He tugs my head, forcing it back against his chest until I can see him leaning over me, watching his hand work down below. “You said you would give Wolf everything you have.”

“I did,” I whisper. In my interview, I remember. And he remembers. “So I guess that means I have to give you everything I have.”

His lip curls into a smirk. “Are you willing to do that? Do you want to go back to Chicago knowing more than just some spineless idiot who let you go?”

If I give Henry myself—my body—I doubt I’ll ever think of Jed again. Though Henry may wreck me for all future men. But right now I don’t care about the future. All I care about is the next four months and that Henry’s thumbs are working on my panties, sliding them down until they’re tumbling to the soft, white rug beneath our feet. I step out of them gingerly. While I still have my shirt covering my vital areas, I feel naked next to his fully dressed frame.

“Abbi, answer me.”

I swallow. And nod. Yes, I want this. I want him.

He leads me backward to the edge of the bed by my hips, pulling me onto his lap as he sits, his hard dick pressing against my ass. His hands seize my inner thighs and he pulls my legs apart until they hang on either side of his thighs, and I’m spread wide open.

The full-length mirror that leans against the wall opposite us reflects the shocking image back at me.

“Don’t,” Henry purrs as my body tenses. His palms hold my thighs apart when I try to pull my legs closed, even pulling them farther apart. “There is nothing about this view that you should be hiding from me. In fact...” He lets go of one thigh to work the buttons of my blouse with quick, expert dexterity. Peeling the two sides away and over my shoulders, I’m soon in nothing but my bra.

With complete efficiency, he reaches back and unsnaps the hook, letting the plain cotton material fall to the carpet.

And now I am laid bare in front of a man for the first time in my life, in an explicit way.

His chest presses against my back with his deep exhale. His heated eyes roam my body’s reflection without shame; the sight of them on my breasts makes my nipples tighten with anticipation. “I knew they had to be real but...” His words drift off as he fills his hands with them, the pads of his thumbs running back and forth over the skin, sending shivers right down to my core.

As exposed as I am, I should be ill at ease, and yet his hands and eyes on my body are warming me from the inside out. He lets go of my breasts to skate his hands over my torso and taut belly, his fingers rubbing back and forth over the flat surface. “Are you still sore?”

He doesn’t have to elaborate; I know what he’s referring to. The light pink skin between my legs.

“A little.”

“They say to give it twenty-four hours.”

Twenty-four hours for what? Katie didn’t mention anything about that.

His right hand reaches down between my legs to slide a finger through the slit again, the act so much more intoxicating in my current predicament. But he doesn’t stop there this time. A light gasp escapes me as he pushes the tip of his index finger into me.

“Tell me the truth: has no one ever touched you like this?” he asks, his mouth pressed against the back of my neck.

“No.”

“Not even your ex?”

I shake my head, closing my eyes as my body welcomes the intrusion.

“Then I’m one lucky bastard.” He pulls his finger out and then slides it back inside again, just the very tip, over and over, at a painstakingly slow rhythm. “Watch me do it,” he commands, and I open my eyes to see the slick moisture coating his skin with each pass.

“You’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you?” He slides a second fingertip in, stretching me gently. I squirm a little against, but he doesn’t let up, his thumb reaching for my clit to rub against it. I can’t keep the soft whimper from escaping my lips.

“Good. Let me hear that.” All semblance of the cold Mr. Wolf has vanished. I have a soft and caring and sensual Henry now, and it makes me open up wider for him and grind my ass into his lap as his fingers probe me, pushing inside, until I feel a strange pressure.

“You’re going to give me your virgin pussy, aren’t you.” It’s not so much a question.

“Yes.” I want this man to have it. I want him to teach me everything he knows.

“Good. Take a deep breath for me, Abbi.”

I do, and he angles his hand, pushing his fingers in. I wince with the sudden pinch. It’s not unbearable, but it’s certainly uncomfortable.

It finally dawns on me what Henry did.

“You’ll thank me for doing that now instead of later.” He stills his hand as my body adjusts to having two fingers inside me, but his thumb keeps working small circles around my clit, rubbing with the perfect amount of pressure.

“Does that mean—”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry. You’re still a virgin. For now.” I turn my face to meet his, his chin settled on my shoulder. His mouth kicks up in a sexy smirk, but his eyes don’t shift, locked on what his hand is doing between my legs.

I need to feel his mouth pressed against mine, his tongue slipping against mine, so badly. He hasn’t made a move to kiss me yet, though. There’s no point hesitating anymore. I lean in and coast my lips over the corner of his mouth. His eyes snap to mine and then my mouth, his hand stilling, and I’m afraid I’ve done something wrong.

“Please?” I whisper.

With his free hand, he seizes the back of my head, fisting my hair and angling my head back to give his mouth full access. He takes it aggressively, his tongue invading my mouth, the taste of him overwhelming my senses.

Kissing is one thing I’ve had a lot of practice at, and yet this kiss...

I can’t handle the expertise with which he so quickly and so completely consumes me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth with abandon. It’s nearly more erotic than what he’s doing with his hand down below, and both things happening simultaneously is more than I can handle at once. I pull back from him slightly, sliding my tongue over the seam of his lips in a teasing manner as well as a silent plea that he guide me rather than dominate me.

It seems to work.

“Fuck, your mouth tastes sweet,” he whispers, and suddenly I’m shifting in his powerful arms. My back hits the mattress and his hard, fully clothed body is pressed against my side, my head resting on one of his arms, his hand roaming my naked flesh. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

My heart jumps in my chest at the thought of his lips down there. But that’s not happening now, I guess, because his mouth is back on mine and his hand begins its rhythmic motion, his fingers pumping in and out of me once again now that the pain has abated.

“Have you ever come before?”

I hesitate and it makes him growl.

“I’m going to know every square inch of your body very soon, Abbi. There’s no point hiding anything from me anymore. So tell me, have you orgasmed before?”

“Yes.” It comes out as a squeak.

He leaves my lips to peer down at me. “By touching yourself?”

I flush, but I can’t truly be ashamed right now, not with his hand inside me. “Obviously.”

He smirks. “Thinking of me?”

I nod. “That night that I saw Katie and Rachel... you know.”

“You enjoyed watching that, didn’t you?”

I purse my lips to hide my embarrassed smile. “I don’t know, honestly. It’s nothing like being with you.”

His fingers curl to find a sensitive spot deep inside and against my belly. He begins rubbing it, all while his thumb keeps working against my clit.

A strange mewling sound escapes my throat as pressure quickly builds inside me. I can feel the strange tingling in my spine that tells me my orgasm isn’t far behind. “What are you doing?” I pant and writhe against his hand, feeling drips of moisture running out of my body and down along my skin. I didn’t think it was possible to be this wet.

“I’m making you come.”

I’ve been hesitant to touch him, but now I reach up to grasp the back of his head and pull him in to my mouth, my fingers weaving through that thick mane of hair that I dreamed about doing this to. It’s even more exquisite than I imagined. My other hand grips his arms, my fingers stretching over the strain in his triceps. I tease inside his lips with the tip of my tongue, earning a deep growl and his mouth pressed hard against mine, his tongue slipping over mine, our saliva pooling and mixing together.

When I finally orgasm, it’s from a depth I never knew possible, my entire body convulsing, my screams neither quiet nor shy. Henry’s skilled hand doesn’t still, dragging every last muscle spasm out in waves until I’m left boneless, my legs splayed to either side, my energy drained. “I’ve never come like that before,” I whisper.

He slips his fingers out of me and stands. I watch him peel off his dress shirt and t-shirt, and toss them to the dresser. I don’t think I could ever get enough of his hard, muscular chest, his skin smooth and tan, his nipples tight.

“Sit up,” he commands, unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants. His knuckles skate across my lips “I can’t meet people with a raging hard-on.”

He wants a blow job. I shyly reach up to push the wool material of his pants away, my palm grazing against the prominent erection beneath his cotton briefs. It jumps in response. I don’t know how to do this.

“I have complete faith in you,” he whispers, as if he can read my mind. “Start by pulling it out.”

I gingerly push his pants down to his knees and then gently curl my fingertips around the elastic of his boxer briefs, tugging them down, stretching them around his front. His cock emerges, a long, thick rod, angled perfectly toward me.

I never expected to think of a cock as a beautiful thing, but Henry’s can only be described as such. It’s a healthy pinkish-purple, and smooth, the tip soft. I don’t know how my body will ever stretch to fit it inside me, but the pulsing sensation in my belly—only minutes after that mind-blowing orgasm—tells me I’m desperate to find out.

“It’s so big.” I sound like a silly girl when I say that, but it’s true. It was sizeable when I saw him in the shower, across the room. Now it’s literally staring me right in the face.

He smirks, waiting, his eyes blazing with heat and anticipation.

I wrap my hand around the bottom of it, my fingertips barely meeting. I imitate what I watched Henry do to himself, sliding my fist up and down along its length, enthralled with how silky and impossibly hard it feels.

“Exactly like that. Tighter.” I squeeze him and then look up to find him staring at me through hooded eyes, his lips parted. I lean forward and trace the tip of him with my tongue, where the bead of moisture sits on the end, tasting the saltiness.

“Do that again, but look up at me this time,” he demands, his voice turning husky.

I lean in and lick him again, my eyes never leaving his, earning his appreciative smile. He mouths “again,” and I do it again, only this time I take my time, twirling my tongue around his tip. I open my mouth wider and run it along the entire underside.

“Fuck,” he hisses. He curls his large hand around the back of my head and pulls me to him. I open wide to give him access to my mouth, hoping I’m doing it right as I close my lips over it. “Suck,” he commands and I do, feeling a gentle pull against my hair, his silent instruction for me to mimic my hand earlier. I grip his base tightly and slide my mouth up and down as far as I can go, which is surprisingly farther than I thought.

His grasp of my hair tightens and his hips begin to thrust.

“You have a pretty little mouth, Abbi. It’s so warm and wet and tight. Perfect for fucking.”

His words are so filthy and his cock is in my mouth and I can’t believe I’m doing this. And enjoying it immensely.

My mouth strains to fit him all over and over again, bits of drool escaping around the rim, but I don’t stop sucking on him. Sometimes my teeth scrape, but he only moans when that happens, so I think he’s okay with it.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, naked and with Henry’s cock pumping in and out of my mouth, my lips swollen, heady desire is building in my body again. While a little sore, I’m already desperate to spread my legs for his fingers—and more—to plunge inside me again.

“I’m close,” he whispers. “I need to come in your mouth. I need you to take it all in, Abbi. Swallow all of me.” His voice is pleading and desperate as if me not swallowing would ruin something monumental.

Of course I will. Right now, I’d do anything for this man.

His dick swells even more and his thrusts come harder and faster, until my eyes are watering from the strain. Then suddenly he cries out, and holds my head down, and a flood of warm salty liquid hits the back of my throat in burst after burst. So much cum.

He stills and then pulls out of my mouth, allowing me to swallow every last drop of it as he strokes the hair back off my face slowly, affectionately. I peer up at him in awe.

I just made Henry Wolf come with my mouth.

Now what?

The feel of his dark, hooded gaze drifting over my heavy breasts coaxes me to lie back and give him a better view. And, hopefully, to entice him. I’m still afraid this is some marathon dirty dream and I’m going to wake up before I feel him inside me.

“Oh, babe.” He chuckles as he steps forward to grip my bent knees, pushing against them until my legs are back and my pussy is spread wide, his eyes on it. “We need to give that beautiful, tight little hole a rest before I fuck it raw.”

I clench in anticipation, that deep throb intensifying again. He inhales deeply, and I know he can smell the muskiness in the air. Of me, ready for him. His words, coupled with his eyes, could make me come.

Releasing my legs, he takes several measured steps back, his cock still erect and bobbing. “I’m going to the gym before dinner. You can call it a day.” Just like that, the steely calm is back.

I watch his superb backside as he disappears behind the pocket door of the bathroom, pulling it closed all the way.

I slip on my panties and skirt, grab my pantyhose, and duck out, keeping my head down all the way to my cabin, my mind in a whirlwind over what I just did.