Текст книги "Wicked Fall"

Автор книги: Sawyer Bennett

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Chapter 11

Woolf

I drain the last of the bourbon from my glass and set it down on the top of the bar, sliding it toward Stephanie. “Hit me again.”

Stephanie arches a lovely eyebrow upward but pours my second shot. “Something must be going on to cause the cool, calm, and collected Woolf Jennings to be sitting at The Wicked Horse and drinking a late lunch.”

She pushes the glass toward me and I reach out to take it, but on a whim, I circle my hand around her wrist instead. She gives a soft intake of breath and her eyes sparkle with anticipation. Stephanie likes having her wrists pinned.

“You’re due for a break,” I tell her, which I’m sure she’s not since we haven’t even opened yet, but I’m the boss, so whatever. I stroke my thumb over her pulse, feeling it beat hard against my skin. This is what I need. A few shots of liquid encouragement and a quick fuck in the office. That will get me back on track. Purge out the insanely obsessive thoughts of Callie that are holding me hostage.

The front door to the club opens, and I recognize Bridger’s frame entering against the haze of bright sunlight. The door closes, and he comes into focus. His eyes cut to the bar—maybe to the glass of bourbon or the way I’m holding Stephanie, who knows—but he scowls when he tips his gaze back to me.

“Hey man,” I say in welcome as he approaches us. “Stephanie and I were just about to hit the office for a little fuckfest. Come join us.”

Bridger doesn’t even stop his stride but looks over at Stephanie and says, “Sorry, darlin’. Not interested right now.”

He doesn’t look back at me as he walks past, but he does say, “I need to talk to you.”

Sighing, I let go of Stephanie’s wrist and take the glass of bourbon, shooting it straight down the back of my throat. Hissing out, I slap the glass on the bar. I give her a wink and a devilish grin. “Give me a few minutes and then come on back. It won’t take me that long to get him to change his mind.”

She laughs and picks up the glass. “Can’t wait.”

I turn from the bar and saunter back to our office.

Feeling good.

Going to tap some sweet pussy and then I’m going to be back in the saddle so to speak.

As soon as I enter the office, I can feel the anger vibrating off Bridger. He looks at me with dark eyes and says, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Huh?

“Well, I was getting ready to fuck Stephanie for a little afternoon quickie. Something I’ve done often and with you in attendance. What the hell is wrong with that?”

And even as I say it, my stomach cramps at the thought of fucking her, because that’s not who I really want. Not who I want at all.

“I want to know why you’re interested in that when you’ve got Callie Hayes.” His voice is hard with a measure of disdain.

“Callie Hayes?” I ask, playing dumb. Playing dumb because I’m not about to even give credence to his idea.

“Yeah,” he says with a frustrated grunt. “The beautiful girl who you fucked the other night and told me the next morning it was the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. Remember that?”

“Well, yeah… sure I said that,” I admit shamefully. “But that was just post-sex haze talking.”

“It was a full twelve hours after you blew a nut, asshole.”

I wince, because I know Bridger well and I know without a doubt I’m not going to win this argument. This man knows everything about me. Hell, he knows more about me than I do because the man is the most sentient person I’ve ever met. It also doesn’t help that I tell him practically everything. He knows everything that I do because I never hesitate to divulge. He’s one of those people that I know holds my confidence tightly and has uncanny wisdom which I respect. I tell him everything because I want him to impart that precious wisdom on me.

Hell… the minute I saw Bridger walk in the bar, I knew I wanted him to save me from the offer I had just made to Stephanie. I knew that he knew she wasn’t the right course for me to take, and that he would bail me out.

Now I need him to give me a push.

“I have nothing to offer her,” I tell Bridger with frustration as I sit down heavily on the couch.

He leans his ass on our desk, propping his hands by his hips. “You have everything to offer her.”

“Great sex?” I say with a colorless laugh.

“That’s a damn good start,” Bridger says seriously. “From there, it will develop.”

“What will develop?” I demand sarcastically of the all-knowing, all-seeing Bridger Payne. “A relationship? Love? Marriage and kids?”

“Possibly,” he says with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe nothing but great sex, but as I said, it’s a fucking awesome place to start.”

Shaking my head in denial, I argue, “That’s not me. I don’t want the responsibility of commitment. I want to do as I please when I want.”

Bridger says nothing. Just stares at me patiently, waits for me to make an attempt to work this out on my own. It pisses me off, but gives me the steam to keep talking it through.

“She and I are too different,” I point out. “She’s all sunshine and sweet lemonade. I’m like a thunderstorm and will roll right over her, ruining everything she is.”

“You’re a fucking poet,” Bridger says drily. “And yeah… that’s a damn good description of the two of you.”

“So why would I even attempt to snuff out that sunshine?” I ask in exasperation. “Why would I ever want to do that to her?”

Bridger gives a laugh as he pushes off from the desk. He walks over to the door and places his hand on the knob. “Dude… my money is on Callie. I think her sunshine is going to banish your thunderstorm in like a nanosecond.”

“What?” I ask in astonishment.

“You heard me. It doesn’t need repeating.”

Leaning forward on the couch, I scrub my hands over my face and then gaze in contemplation at the tips of my boots. Do I want to be influenced by Callie? I wouldn’t be lying when I say I’m drawn to her light. Everything about her makes me feel good.

Always has.

“Woolf,” Bridger says softly and I look up at him. “We’re tight, you and me.”

I nod.

“But I choose this lifestyle because it’s innately who I am. You followed me here, and I love every fucking minute of our journey together. But man, hear me when I say… you cannot stand beside me in my loneliness forever. It balances me, but partner… it will destroy you one day.”

Even as he says those words, I know they’re true. Otherwise, the sharp bite of pain in the middle of my chest wouldn’t feel so exquisitely honest. Maybe I’ve always known there was something more for me, but I was too afraid to ever give it credence. Or maybe I didn’t want to leave Bridger behind because I think he needs me.

Now Bridger is making me reconsider.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and Bridger turns the knob to open it. He doesn’t even look at Stephanie standing there. He knew it was her. Expected her. Knew that I told her to come back, because he knows me.

“Come on in, sugar,” he says while staring at me. “Woolf has something important he needs to do, but I decided I want to play a little.”

Callie’s got me on a nice chase this afternoon.

After I left The Wicked Horse, where I’m sure Stephanie and Bridger had a very nice time together, I drove out to The Double J. I assumed Callie would be there working, but her truck wasn’t there and it was locked up tight. I went in regardless to see if she had left a note, but nothing.

This concerned me because it wasn’t like Callie. She was too responsible, and it fired dread up within me. Perhaps I’d already run her off for good.

I quickly called Bridger, who told me that he’d seen Callie there earlier but that she looked like she was getting ready to leave. Asshole couldn’t have told me that when he was shooing me out the door an hour ago?

Now I’m making the forty-five minute drive back to Jackson, hoping she’s at her parents’ house.

I use the long drive to sift through my thoughts and try to organize them. I reflect on what Bridger told me today, and I focus on his confidence that Callie is good for me. That I wouldn’t destroy her. His money was on the girl.

This time.

I’m still not sure what I hope to accomplish by going to her house. She’s a woman, so I’m sure it will involve talking. I guess we have stuff to talk about, but personally, I hope it involves fucking.

Lots and lots and lots of fucking. While I’m recharging, we can talk.

And that is the dilemma. While I’m confident I can master and captivate her body, I’m not quite sure what to do with her heart. She has a big one. As big as the state of Wyoming, and it’s vulnerable. I’ve hurt it before, I know, and it’s something that’s always weighed on me from time to time.

But mostly I’m worried that I’m not truly cut out for a relationship. I don’t know why I think that, but I do. It’s possible because I’ve never had one, I’m afraid of the unknown. What terrifies me even more is that I love my lifestyle so much—an incredible nonstop orgy since college—that I won’t want anything different.

That Callie would not be enough to satisfy my appetites for the long term.

It shames me to feel this way, and yet I can’t help it. It’s the only thing I know. It’s my comfort.

It’s true that I followed Bridger into the lifestyle. Early on in our college years, he found solace in the depravity of meaningless sex and the thrill of pushing the kinkiest of boundaries. I just liked the meaningless sex, but Bridger truly needed it. It’s true… he’s happiest in his loneliness, and I’ve stood there right with him the entire way. Maybe that’s what makes me happy too?

But maybe something else will make me happier.

A sudden image bursts into my head, filled with bright, dazzling color. Callie and me… with children… walking along the Snake River with fishing poles in our hand.

I shake my head to dispel it, but a lingering warmth remains in my blood.

Fucking weird.

When I pull into Callie’s driveway, I see her truck sitting outside of the garage and a dark green sedan beside it. It could be any number of people stopping by to visit, so I don’t give it a second thought. As soon as I turn off the ignition, the front door opens and Callie steps out onto the front porch with a man.

Instantly, blistering rage rises within me at the thought of her being with someone else.

Callie… another man… walking out of her house.

But then I recognize the dude. Perfectly styled brown hair, sleek dress pants, and a crisp white dress shirt. Her dull fiancé, Will, who apparently has a kinky side under all that starch.

My rage is instantly replaced by fear and jealousy. He’s clearly back here to make amends and get Callie back. This only two days after I fucked her and left her once again, without a fucking peep out of me since. She’s a prime target right now, feeling all used and discarded.

I push the door of my truck open and hop out, walking up toward the porch. Neither of them see me as they stand close together talking.

As soon as my boot hits the bottom porch step, both of them turn to look at me. I spare a brief glance at Callie, whose eyes flare wide with surprise to see me there. Will doesn’t recognize me, and why should he? We met briefly at a Christmas party last year, and he was three sheets to the wind at the time. He gives me an uncertain smile, and I stalk right up to him.

When I’m two feet away, he must take stock of the murderous look on my face and he starts backing up. I keep pounding toward him, backing him all the way up into door. I don’t touch him, my hands hanging loosely by my sides, but then again, I don’t need to. The fact I tower over him by a good five inches and have a solid forty pounds on him, coupled with the menace I’m projecting, has him thoroughly cowed.

“Woolf,” Callie barks at me, but I ignore her.

I lean forward and get in his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Will cuts a nervous glance at Callie, his eyes silently begging her to save him.

Fucking pussy. How in the world she ever could have been attracted to this pecker is beyond me?

“Woolf,” Callie says in exasperation as she grabs ahold of my arm and attempts to pull me away. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Will actually gasps when Callie drops the “F” bomb, and my opinion of him sinks even lower.

“Callie,” Will says in disapproval as he attempts to straighten his body.

Only because I’d get no satisfaction out of pounding this twit into the ground, and also because I’m finding it wholly unsatisfying that he’s so scared of me, I back up a step.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Callie says as she lets me go and reaches around me to take Will by the arm. She pulls him away from me, and he looks immensely grateful. “Will… just go get a hotel room and we’ll meet up for breakfast tomorrow like we planned.”

He makes an attempt to be a man. Looks at me, and then back at Callie. “Um… do you need me to stay?”

She rolls her eyes at Will, shoots me a disgusted glare, and then looks back to him. “No, I’m fine. This is Woolf Jennings. You met him last year at Dad’s Christmas party. Normally, he’s not this much of a jackass.”

“That’s right,” I say pleasantly enough. “I’m normally a pretty nice dude except when someone fucks around on one of my friends.”

“Jesus, Callie,” Will snarls at her with a pained look. “Did you have to tell other people?”

I take another menacing step toward Will and Callie steps in between us, placing a soft hand on my chest to halt my progress. With her other hand, she pinches the bridge of her nose and rubs at what I’m thinking is a monster headache.

Created by Will, no doubt.

In a tired voice, Callie says, “Will… just go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Will gives a curt nod of his head and walks down the porch steps. When he clears the last one, her hand falls away from my chest and she watches him get in his car. When he pulls out of the driveway, she gives me a short glare before turning and walking into her house without a word to me.

She even attempts to shut the door on me, but I stick a quick leg out and manage to get my boot in between the door and the jamb before it closes. She looks over her shoulder at me in surprise and then turns away, walking into the kitchen.

“Go away, Woolf. I’ll see you at work on Monday,” she says in a tired voice.

I don’t respond but follow her right into the kitchen. “Are your parents here?”

“No,” she says in surprise as she turns to look at me. “Why would that—?”

That’s as far as she gets before I’m on her, taking her face in between my roughened palms and kissing the ever-loving fuck out of her. I had planned to talk when I got here, but apparently, I’ve got a new game plan that I’m making up as I go along. The terrible warring sensations of rage, jealousy, guilt, and desire overwhelming me, and because I suck at talking and excel at fucking, I decide to try that angle first.

Callie gasps the minute our lips touch, and then a silky moan floats up her throat and settles against my tongue. It tastes better than anything I’ve ever had in my mouth. One hand behind her head, another pressed into her lower back, and I pull her in so I can feel every single beautiful inch of her body flush against me.

I take a few steps, walking her backward into the stainless steel refrigerator, and when she’s good and truly trapped, I pull away from her slightly, drawing my one hand from the back of her head to grip her jaw. Her eyes are filled with lust and wariness, which is a hauntingly beautiful look. It makes my cock even harder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I stayed away from you. Okay?”

She nods against the hold I have on her.

“We’ll talk about Will and us later, okay?”

She nods again.

“I’m going to make you come now with my face between your legs, okay?”

“Oh, God,” she moans, and I drop to my knees before her.

Chapter 12

Callie

I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.

Woolf Jennings kneeling at my feet.

Beautifully unattainable Woolf Jennings, who has walked away from me on three prior occasions, now kneeling at my feet. I wonder how fast he’s going to walk away from me this time.

Woolf sits back on his haunches and skims his hands slowly up the outside of my denim-clad legs. When they reach my hips, he squeezes and in a low, husky, oh-so-very-sexy voice, he says, “Do you like having your pussy eaten?”

My face flushes hot, and I cut my gaze away from him because the naked lust in his eyes is too overwhelming.

He squeezes my hips again to get my attention. “Callie?”

I slowly look back down at him and whisper, “Um… I don’t know. Will didn’t really like to—”

“Fucking, pansy-ass motherfucker,” Woolf mutters as he squeezes a little too hard on my hips. “He never deserved you.”

“At least he wanted me,” I say with my chin rising, feeling the need to defend Will, or really, defend my choice of a man.

“I always wanted you, Callie,” he says, and I hear truth in his words. “I just didn’t think I should have you. Big difference.”

“And now?”

“And now I’m not going to fight it. Bridger says I should go for this, so I intend to.”

I give a mirthful chuckle. “That Bridger… Mr. Know-It-All.”

Woolf’s hands come to the button of my jeans, and he skillfully pops it open. He pinches the zipper and slowly slides it down before peeling the fly open. Leaning in, he places a whisper of a kiss on the skin just above the waistband of my panties.

“When I get done with you, you’re going to love having your pussy eaten,” he tells me with quiet confidence.

My hands rise up, my fingers sift into his hair, and I gently rub his scalp. He actually tilts his head, pushing into one of my palms with eyes closed and lets out a purr of satisfaction.

“Woolf,” I murmur and his eyes open up, gorgeously blue like the Wyoming sky. “I went to the doctor and got tested. I’m all good, and Will assured me he always wore protection.”

He gives me a slight nod with a smile, and then leans back from me slightly. His hand taps at one ankle. “Lift your foot.”

I do and he removes one of my boots, tossing it over his shoulder, before doing the same to the other leg. Woolf looks up at me and says, “Do me a favor, Cal. Take off your shirt and bra.”

Modesty overwhelms me, and I hesitate. Woolf has made me come three times, and he’s never seen me naked. What if my breasts aren’t large enough? Or I have cellulite on my thighs that grosses him out? Fuck… did I shave today? Yes, I think I did.

“Callie,” Woolf says gently, and my eyes lock with his. “Let me see those beautiful tits.”

I swallow hard and with shaking hands, lift the hem of the lightweight turtleneck I am wearing up and over my head, pulling it off. Giving a shake of my hair, I drop the shirt to the floor.

Woolf’s eyes gaze hungrily at my chest, and he licks his bottom lip. “Bra, too.”

I reach to the center front clasp and flick it open, slowly peeling it aside. My breasts are on the small side, or so I think, barely filling my B cup. But at least they’re perky, and I don’t have to look down to know my nipples are contracted into tight buds.

“Christ,” Woolf says almost as if in prayer. “So fucking beautiful.”

His hands get to work, pushing my jeans and underwear down together, deftly lifting each of my legs to pull the material free right along with my socks. And then I am completely and starkly naked in front of him as he once against leans back on his haunches and devours me with his eyes.

Another wave of modesty hits, and my hands come up to cover my breasts. He actually growls at me before they even get halfway there and says in a warning tone, “Your hands can touch your breasts but it only better be to pinch your nipples while I’m tongue fucking you, okay?”

“Oh, jeez,” I mutter.

Well… that was more of a moan.

Woolf grins at me as his hands come back to my hips. “Little Callie Hayes likes her some dirty talk, huh?”

My face goes red, but there is one thing I don’t like, and that’s Woolf referencing the Old Callie. He needs to know… I’m a big girl and while I’m fighting through some unease at this completely new experience, I’m also perfectly capable of handling the Big Bad Woolf.

Woolf chuckles as he takes in my blush, but I wipe that smile right off his face when I bring my hands all the way up and do exactly as he instructed. I pinch and twist my nipples with my fingers, giving a low moan of appreciation over how damn good that feels.

And that smile does indeed disappear and his eyes go dark with something that I can’t describe. It’s carnal and deeply possessive, and in this moment, I know Woolf is going to devour me.

With a large hand coming up to my stomach, Woolf gives me a slight push until I lean back against the refrigerator. The cold steel against my back feels amazing against my heated skin. He then gently picks up one leg and places it over his shoulder.

My hands freeze their motions and I stare in avid fascination down at him as he stares in frank appreciation at me. Or is that… reverence? A sharp pang of pleasure hits me square between the legs before he even touches me, and I almost become afraid of his touch. As if I won’t be able to handle it.

Woolf’s large hands are gentle as they go back to my hips, but only briefly before they are sliding inward. His fingers brush softly against my skin and then they are peeling me wide apart. I have only a brief moment of embarrassment that he has me so exposed and vulnerable standing in my kitchen completely naked, before he brings his mouth to me in what I can only describe as a hot, wet, openmouthed kiss against me.

A guttural sound tears loose and my knee buckles, causing strain on my other leg resting on his shoulder. Woolf merely moves one hand in between my legs so he can press his hand to my bare ass to help hold me steady, never once letting his mouth move from me.

If I thought Woolf’s fingers and dick were magical, I’d say his tongue is almost divine in nature. It seems to know exactly how to lick and flutter against me, putting the right amount of pressure and stimulation against my clit. He’s in between my legs no more than a minute before I feel myself starting to tighten up.

Woolf briefly pulls away and looks up at me. “Hands on your tits, baby.”

“Huh?” I ask in a daze as I realize my fingers are sunk deep into his hair, and I’ve got it in a death grip.

“Put those fingers to better use than scalping me and play with your tits,” he says with a smirk, his lips shiny wet from his ministrations.

I release his hair and cup my breasts, massaging them as requested. Woolf watches me a moment and when he’s satisfied, he returns his mouth to me. He alternates lazy circular licks with fast flutters and my hips start rotating against him—tilting forward, seeking more of his touch. He groans over my response and pushes against me harder, moving his tongue against me faster. Licking at me roughly, sucking my clit.

I look down at his dark head moving back and forth as he eats me alive, and I think to myself… Woolf Jennings has his tongue inside me.

Woolf Jennings is eating my pussy.

With a sharp slap of his tongue against my clit, I start to come, feeling it carefully break free with an exquisitely sharp burst of power that makes me cry out, just before it travels through my entire body like an unquenchable wave. Woolf presses harder and laps at me fervently, drawing out my orgasm until tears spring up in my eyes because the sensation is just too overwhelming. My hands fall to his head, and I actually shove him away from me.

With reluctance, Woolf gives in and lets me push his face back. He swipes his hand across his mouth and grins up at me. Gently lowering my leg to the floor, he says, “You taste so fucking good, Callie. I expect I’m going to be doing that quite a bit to you.”

I laugh nervously and suck in a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of my heart even though I feel prickles of pleasure still zinging through me. Woolf sits up straight on his knees, and he deftly opens his belt and jeans. He pushes them down his hips just far enough to pull his cock out, and I get my first really good look at it. While I felt its massive girth and length both with my hand and deep inside of me the other night, it’s quite a different story to see the beauty of it.

And it is incredibly beautiful.

I never gave much thought to that part of the male anatomy that made sex possible. Will’s wasn’t particularly big, but it wasn’t small. It filled me okay, but it was just… a penis.

This, though. This large, solid shaft is utterly magnificent with strong veins running down its length and a wide, flared head that has a bit of clear pre-cum dribbling from the slit. Woolf strokes it lazily with just his forefinger and thumb as he watches me checking out what is most definitely not just a penis.

It’s a cock.

Woolf holds his other hand out to me and with a wicked grin says, “Come on, darlin’. Climb aboard.”

He gives me a tug, and I step forward on shaky legs as he lowers back down until his ass rests on his heels. He pulls on me until I’m standing over his lap and urges me down. My hands balance myself on his shoulders, and I squat down toward that monstrous dick looming upward in anticipation. Woolf uses a hand on my hip and the other at the base of his shaft to guide our union.

When the head touches the outer lips of my pussy, Woolf drags it back and forth a few times and even thumps it once on my clit. I gasp and my eyes flare wide in surprise, causing Woolf to chuckle.

So many things I’m learning.

“Come on, Callie,” he says gruffly. “Sink that gorgeous pussy down on my cock. I want you to ride me, baby.”

And oh, God… he’s so sinfully bad. Filthy-talking boy who makes me want to do every dirty thing he commands of me.

I slowly push down onto him, feeling my flesh expand. Feeling the nip of pain as he invades me, knowing how good it’s going to feel when he’s all the way in.

Woolf groans as I drop down, and he has an almost pained look on his face as he watches his cock disappear into me. He looks up at me, huffs out a pent-up breath, and says, “God, Callie. You just don’t know how good you feel on me.”

My entire body goes almost liquid hearing him say that. It’s not just a generalized statement that pops out of your mouth during the heat of some really good sex. Woolf was saying that I feel good to him. He’s saying it in a way that means I feel better than anything he’s ever felt before, and as I lower myself all the way down on his erection, and he fills me up fuller than I’ve ever been before, I feel my heart start to fall prey to this dangerous wolf.

His hands come to my hips and he holds me there just a moment so he can kiss me. A deep, toe-curling kiss that causes me to hunger for something more. His hands slide down to my ass and he urges me to lift up. I keep my feet firmly planted on the slate tile of my mother’s designer kitchen, and I raise myself off his cock. When I get to the end… when I feel the head of his cock stretching me a bit before breaking free, I push back down on him roughly.

“Fuck yes,” Woolf hisses as he closes his eyes in rapture, and a thrill of power runs through me that I did that to him.

I rise up and fall back down on him, feeling myself getting wetter with every gliding stroke. Woolf holds me steady by my hips, uses his powerful arms to help my movements. I ride him faster and faster until my breasts are bouncing almost painfully. As I start to tire, I merely loop my arms over his shoulders and clasp my hands behind his head. I use his strong upper body to pull myself up and down on him. Woolf starts to take over, needing me to go faster and harder than I am. His hands under my ass grip me hard, and he practically bounces me up and down on his cock. He’s hitting me so deeply, so deliciously, I start to feel another orgasm building.

“Christ,” Woolf pants through gritted teeth. His cheek is pressed against mine as I hold onto him tight. “I’m so close but I don’t want to come yet. This feels too good.”

I can only grunt in response as he hits my g-spot over and over again, pounding another orgasm into me. It breaks free just as he slams me down and my arms and legs tighten around him so hard, he can’t lift me back up. So instead, he just holds me down on him tightly as I start to shudder and grinds his pelvis up and against mine. I let out a soft curse, a keening moan, and I bite his shoulder hard through the material of his shirt.

That’s when I realize I can feel him pulsing inside of me as he groans out his own release. He squeezes me so tight, I can’t breathe, yet I want him to hold me tighter. We both shake, our orgasms mingling with each other to where I can’t tell if the vibrations of pleasure are from him or me.

Probably both.

Our eruptions were epic and take time to fade. It takes several moments for our breathing to even. Woolf grazes his lips across mine before laying his forehead on my shoulder. He embraces me intimately while we are still melded together.

“I think you broke me,” Woolf murmurs lazily.

I giggle and my muscles involuntarily contract around him, which causes him to groan.

“I think my ovaries exploded,” I tell him as my face presses into his neck and his hand strokes my back.

“Let me see if I can walk, and if so, I’m taking you back to your bedroom for round two. Only then will I be able to hear what you have to say about your ex-douche.”

I cluck at him in disapproval, pulling my face back to look at him in censure.

He gives me a wide-eyed, innocent look. “What?”

“Be nice. He’s come crawling into town with his tail between his legs,” I say with admonishment.

Woolf snorts. “That’s just the end of the flogger that dom-bitch stuck in his ass.”

I gasp over his crude words. “Just stop it. Just don’t.”

“Are you defending him?” Woolf asks me with incredulity. “With my cock still deep inside of you and my cum leaking out, are you defending that asshole?”

“No,” I say in exasperation. “But I just don’t want you making this harder. And every time you remind me what a freak he is, it makes me feel foolish all over again.”

Immediate apology fills Woolf’s eyes, and his hands come to my face. He kisses me quickly and then pulls back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” I say as I place my fingers over his lips to silence him. “Now, I believe you mentioned something about a second round?”