Wolves at the Door - Lidiya Foxglove Page 0,28

chair back an inch. He fidgeted a little in his chair and took a slightly tortured breath that told me without even having to look that his cock was ready to claim me right then and there.

“Hurry up,” he said, his voice sharpening in the sexiest way.

I scraped up the last few spoonfuls as he asked for the check. We walked about a mile home mostly in quivering silence, his hand on my back, his jacket draped over his sleeve, hiding his arousal as we passed some retirees walking toward the restaurants.

When we got to the cottage, he slammed the door behind us and seized my wrists, leading me to the antique sofa.

“Not the sofa!” I said. “Antique upholstery!”

He grinned wickedly. “The table for you, then.”

“Or there’s this invention called a bed—oh!” His arm went around my hips and and scooped me up.

“No time for beds,” he said, sweeping aside all of the stuff on the table—flowers in a vase, a corded telephone, a container of pens—putting me down on the table. “I need you now.” He yanked my tights down to my boots and then he tugged on the boot laces. “Why don’t you have zippers on your boots?”

“I don’t like zippers.”

“At least I know—it isn’t often—someone tears your clothes off in a passionate rage,” he grunted, tearing them off my feet. Then he expertly removed his clothes—all of them. You know how most people manage to look a little more ridiculous when naked? Not Graham. He looked as comfortable as a Roman statue on display, and ohh goddess, that huge cock was coming for me.

“Condoms! I don’t have any condoms!” I cried. “I haven’t been making any birth control spells!”

“I got it,” he said smoothly, producing one from his wallet. I swear that rolling the condom down his shaft made it look even bigger, like the Magnum was quite snug. I guess I’m about to find out if I’m ready for one man, much less four, in real life, I thought.

Chapter Thirteen

Helena

The whole walk home I’d been wondering what it would be like to have this man make love to me and now I knew. It was delicious and overwhelming and I was groaning uncontrollably as he drove a little deeper with each thrust. Usually I need more of a warm up, but my imagination had already been running wild for long enough that I was soaking wet and once my body adjusted to his size, he could fuck me hard.

“Oh damn…” His fingers laced with mine, pressing on my palms, and he kissed me wherever his lips happened to fall—hair, cheek, neck…lips. I opened my mouth and nipped at his lip, keeping him there a moment longer. “Oh damn,” he repeated.

“Mmm…” We were incoherent. He was so strong I wondered how long he could go. I wondered how long I would last. Every stroke of his cock put stars in my eyes, and some tears in my eyes too, because the sensation was so achingly sweet and intense. I didn’t feel like I was anywhere near coming, though. I could already tell that when the orgasm came it was going to blow my mind, and it wouldn’t come too soon. It would build slowly until I was weeping for it.

Oh, maybe I already was.

“Graham…Graham…shit…you’re so strong…”

“Worth the wait?”

“Oh fuck…” I tossed my head and twisted a little under his touch, like I needed to get away, but also would rather die than succeed.

“God yes,” he said. He pulled the ponytail holder from my hair and then tugged down the zipper of my dress, skillfully peeling the dress up my curves, slowing down his rhythm but hardly stopping as he slid his hands worshipfully down my waist and hips.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “And pretty strong yourself.”

The phone rang.

The old phone sitting on the table. He glared at it. Definitely a bit of a groove-interrupter, but then, when you had a groove this deep…

He pushed my dress up over my breasts and bent down to give each nipple an affectionate nibble. I was getting wetter and wetter. I wondered if it was possible to not have an orgasm at all, but just to be at the mercy of the slow build. I was definitely pumping him up with power. I should be annoyed about it but it was hard to be upset about the way I felt like shooting stars of pleasure were coursing through my fingers and toes.

The answering machine beeped. “Graham, I know you rented this Airbnb!