by Dannika Dark
“You need to stop… stop,” he bit out. “I’m about to—”
I circled my hips. “Not yet. I didn’t give you my permission.”
The next thing I knew, I was sailing through the air and onto my back. My head hung off the foot of the bed and he pounded into me—his mouth on my breasts and his scent in my nose. My God, I’d never felt anything so delicious! All the blood rushing to my head intensified the orgasm that was about to crash into us.
He dragged my body back onto the bed and settled his eyes on mine. His rhythm was relentless—each stroke even harder than the last, as if he were punishing me, and he filled me so completely that I’d never felt so taken. Wheeler maintained direct eye contact, and I could tell he liked the power play between us.
“Even… better… than I imagined,” he said between heated breaths. “Christ, your body feels so fucking good.”
I gripped the back of his neck and cried out—a bolt of pleasure taking siege and holding me hostage. My nails bit into his skin and I held on through the most powerful climax I’d ever experienced.
Wheeler didn’t stop. He pounded into me, faster, deeper. The headboard slammed against the wall and a book tumbled off.
“Pull my hair,” he said in a rough voice.
I moaned and gripped his hair in a tight fist.
“Harder,” he growled. “Punish me.”
Wheeler didn’t really want me to give him pain; he needed someone to take control of his pleasure. So I threw him off me.
With stunned eyes, he watched me turn onto my hands and knees, peering at him over my shoulder. I shook my derriere and gave him a sultry smile. “I’d rather you punish me. Show me how the big bad wolf likes it.”
Like a predator, he rose up on his knees and gripped my hips. Wheeler drove his shaft into me so hard that I cried out.
“You like this, kitty cat?” He reached around and stroked me with his fingers. “Did I mention how I like you waxed? Fuck…”
Now I understood the power of a wolf in the bedroom when he was in his domain. My insides heated, and I became so wet that he moaned profanities as he slapped his hips against my behind, creating one of the most erotic sounds.
I gripped the sheets, desire coiling tight. He moved faster, and when his fingers brushed over my sex again, I gasped.
Wheeler flipped me onto my back, never losing momentum. I gripped his taut biceps as if letting go meant falling off the earth. Pleasure quickly turned to agony on his face, and I knew he needed to find his release.
“Now,” I said, my voice firm before it fell to a soft breath. “Come inside me.”
His body quaked and he yelled out. Wheeler fell over me, out of breath. My senses were overwhelmed with his heat, his smell, the weight of his body, and the feel of his strong heart pounding against my chest.
Wheeler lifted his head and looked at me with concern. “You okay?”
“My heart is coming out of my chest,” I said between ragged breaths.
He lowered his head and whispered something I couldn’t hear.
I brushed a tangle of curls away from my face and looked vacantly off to the side.
Wheeler didn’t like that and pinched my chin, turning my head to face him. “Something wrong?”
“Do you want the truth? This is the part where you tell me I’m a swell fuck and put on your pants.”
His brows slanted in an angry line. “What?”
“Men have sex with me; they don’t sleep with me. There’s always a meeting, trip, or somewhere else they need to be. So they go. I don’t have any high expectations, and I don’t want you to feel guilty about putting on your pants and heading out. You don’t look like the cuddling type, and what would your family think? There’s no reason to give me that look.” I stroked the soft bristles on his chin. “I hope someday you can open up to Austin—or with your mate.”
“What mate?”
When I wriggled free, he gasped and sat up. I casually sauntered toward the short fridge. “The wolf you’ll find someday who makes your little tail wag,” I said with a grin.
Wheeler sat on the edge of the bed, wiping back his damp hair. “Maybe I’m not the mating kind.”
“Beer or water?”
“Beer.”
I pulled a longneck from the shelf and strolled back to the bed, standing in front of him and letting the chilly bottle touch his neck. “Can you open it?”
With a swift motion, he used his molars to bite on the cap, and it rolled to the floor.
“My big strong man,” I purred, playfully gripping the tangle of hair on top of his head.
He sucked down two long gulps and released an audible breath. “That hit the spot.”
I bent down and kissed the tip of his nose. “You can say that again.”
His cold tongue licked my nipple and I squealed.
“Come here.” He handed me the beer bottle and turned me around to sit on his lap.
“Hmm, I didn’t think Mr. Grumpy was the cuddling kind.” I took a baby sip and shivered when the bubbles slid down my throat. “Delish.”
Wheeler chuckled and squinted at me. “I like the way you talk.”
“I seem to recall our conversations going a completely different way.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Right there. You breathe fire like a dragon, but you’re a classy lady.”
Was he baiting me? That negative Nelly in my head began to doubt his words rang true. Classy? I rested my head on his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his arms around me.
“What’s on your mind?” He yawned as he set the bottle down.
“Misha.”
“She wasn’t in that house. My wolf can smell a cat within a five-mile radius.”
I laughed softly. “Well he must have loved our close encounter. Here, let me get up. I must be crushing your legs.” I bent forward and Wheeler pulled me back down.
“Stay right where you are.”
“You’ll lose circulation.”
He gave a closed-lip smile, playing with a curl of my hair. “That’d be a shame. Trapped in bed with a beautiful woman.”
I stroked his jaw. “You should trim off this stubble. I liked it better when you just had the beard around your mouth.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Jericho used to give me shit for that. Said women don’t like it.”
“Well,” I said, nipping on his earlobe, “this woman adores it.”
He leaned back onto the bed and pulled me on top of him. “Remind me to buy a razor.”
We fell into a deep kiss and then he shifted me to his right side. This was nice. I’d never been able to enjoy the feel of a man lying naked beside me without foreplay or sex. I liked his natural, musky smell. And my fingers couldn’t stop brushing over his soft chest hair—short, sparse, and pale brown. He bent his left knee and casually moved it back and forth, tucking his right arm behind his head.
“Do you smoke?” I asked.
“Nope. But after what we just did, I’d say that justifies a cigarette. You?”
“Does my kiss taste like smoke?”
“You taste like dark cherries.”
Well, that was one I hadn’t heard before. “Did you really like my chicken spaghetti?”
Wheeler chuckled. “Your mind is all over the place. If that’s just a sample of what you can do in the kitchen, then I might lock you in here for good. I love a woman who knows how to cook.”
“Mmmm, and I love a man with an appetite.”
Wheeler touched my eyelashes before stroking his finger over my brow. “How did you get such exotic eyes?”
His hand smoothed down my neck, across my breasts, and then between my legs. I lightly gasped—hot with desire once more. As I rolled onto my back, Wheeler’s teeth locked on my neck and lightly bit down. I moaned as his fingertips explored my sex and his heated breath skated against my skin.
A knock sounded at the door, and I stood up in a panic.
“Be chill,” Whee
ler said coolly. “I locked the door.”
“Naya! It’s Lexi.”
“Not a good time, girly!”
I heard keys jingling. “Naya, I’m coming in!”
I don’t even remember Wheeler moving. One minute I heard him say, “Shit,” and the next he was running.
Running where? Oh my God!
The key slid into the lock, Wheeler slipped on the spilled soda by the door, and I reached down and whirled a sheet around me when the door opened.
“This can’t wait, Naya. I have to sort out the stuff for the party now. Austin’s giving me a hard time, and he’s stressed out over the food order. He kicked me out of bed and said if he has to work late, then so do I.” She held her laptop in one hand and glanced down at the wet floor. “What the hell happened?”
The bathroom door slowly closed behind her but didn’t shut all the way.
“And why are you standing on the bed?” Lexi began to look around and I leapt onto the floor.
“Do have a seat on the sofa. I was just settling in for the night.”
She glanced at the tipped-over coffee table.
“Sorry,” I said apologetically. “I had a little tantrum because we didn’t get Delgado. I was hoping he’d be there.”
That seemed to convince her. She set her laptop on the sofa and bent over to pick up the coffee table. I walked toward her and my eyes widened like saucers when I saw Wheeler’s knife stuck in the wall.
I reached out and pulled it free, opening the drawer beside me and setting it on top of a fashion magazine.
Lexi stood up with a button between her fingers. “What’s this?”
I glanced at the door and noticed Wheeler must have snatched up his shirt. Goodness! Our clothes!
“It was hot in here. Do you mind grabbing the towel from the sink? I don’t want you to slip on the mess I made.”
While Lexi went to the sink and pulled open a drawer, I hurried back to the bed and stuffed the clothes and shoes in hiding places. I frantically looked around for any other signs that Wheeler was here, and then I realized his smell was all over me. Sweet Jesus! I rummaged through my bag and slipped into my nightie.
“Naya, this rag isn’t big enough to clean that mess. Let me grab a towel from the bathroom.”
“No! I’ll get it. Why don’t you make us a bowl of snacks while I clean up? I’m so sorry about the mess, sweetie. I’ve always been a little dramatic,” I said with an artificial smile.
I pushed through the bathroom door and felt Wheeler in front of me holding a stack of towels. A small squirt sounded in the darkness, and the sweet scent of my Chanel perfume sifted across my chest. I curved my hand around to his rear and gave it a tight squeeze before closing the door.
Lexi and I had a lot of work to do, including a few calls I had to make to complete our orders and schedule delivery.
It took three hours.
But sitting on that sofa, knowing I had Wheeler in my control—naked in that dark, tiny room—thrilled my mischievous nature immensely.
Chapter 17
Wheeler’s feelings for Naya hadn’t changed—he still felt loathing and lust. Lust for obvious reasons in that she was an intelligent woman who pleasured him in ways that no other woman had. Loathing because he sat in her bathroom for hours listening to them ramble on about fountains and drapery. He had begun to wonder if Naya was holding him hostage, because each time Lexi would wind down the conversation, Naya would insist they look at another page on the Internet. Whenever Lexi agreed, Naya would release a devilish laugh. The kind that made him want to bend Naya over his knee and give her a spanking.
He could have slept in that bathroom had he not been so damn scared of snoring. Jesus, Lexi would have kicked him out of the pack for sure. She would have accused him of using Naya—maybe even by force based on how the room had been left in disarray.
What he’d experienced with Naya went beyond sex. Wheeler’s compulsive actions had been out of control. When he’d ripped her blouse, he feared her reaction. He feared the magnitude of his desire for a woman whose animal represented death for him. But she’d taken hold of the reins, and that excited him. Suddenly the women in his past had become inconsequential; none of them had ever given him what he truly craved in bed. Not just sex, but acceptance. Intimacy. He’d spilled his darkest secrets to a woman who didn’t turn away. Naya didn’t look at him like she would a monster; she looked at him like she would a man.
And a monster is exactly what he saw reflecting back at him in the mirror. During his captivity, they had denied him contact with the outside world. No one had known his whereabouts, and he’d later found out Ben hadn’t even told the family he’d gone missing. Wheeler had given himself over to the underworld of cage fighting to save his brother, knowing he might never see his family again. Most fighters only lasted for so long before they lost to someone more deadly. Death was the inevitable outcome; it was just a matter of time.
Wheeler had not only survived, he’d quickly gained a reputation in the underground world of cage fights. It wasn’t long before they had put him in with the panthers. Usually panthers went against one another for the highest-paying fights, but his owner thought Wheeler had potential and had arranged for a low-key match with a weak panther.
Wheeler’s wolf had won that battle. By then his animal had become bloodthirsty—never hesitating to lunge for the jugular as soon as Wheeler shifted.
It wasn’t long before hopelessness had crept into his heart with the realization he’d never see his family again. Most of the scars on his arms had partially healed, but not enough. He’d thought he’d die in that hellhole. But sometimes guards got too comfortable and made foolish mistakes.
It took a year after his escape before Wheeler got in touch with Ben. By then, Wheeler had found one of the best tattoo artists in the city to cover up his scars, but it was also a way to separate himself from Ben for good. They were too identical, so maybe doing this would be a little fuck you to him for stealing his identity. Wheeler could have hated him, but it was impossible to hate the other half of himself.
Ben obviously hadn’t thought he’d ever see Wheeler again. For a while, Wheeler believed he might actually change his ways. He’d promised, after all.
But the promises never lasted long before the gambling would start back up. Wheeler grew facial hair, kept the top of his hair longer, and dressed differently. There was no hiding the fact they were twins, but no one would ever mistake Wheeler for Ben again. Jesus, maybe he should have just started a new life away from his brother, but Austin would be forming a pack, and Wheeler wanted to be a part of it. Hell, he needed it. The wolf in him craved family and a sense of belonging. In order to do that, he had to forgive Ben. No matter how fucked up his brother was in the head, they were still born of the same seed. They shared the same DNA, even the same thoughts as they could finish each other’s sentences. Maybe sometimes you just have to love someone for who they’ll never be in order to move on with your life. Ben’s popularity among their brothers eclipsed his own, and for that reason, Wheeler couldn’t betray him.
After the cage fights, the first person he’d shifted around was Ben. His wolf didn’t attack his brother like he’d feared, but Wheeler knew he needed to make sure his wolf wasn’t aggressive or else he’d never be accepted into the pack. His nerves were on edge when Austin had introduced his wolf to his brothers. Part of the process included Austin staying in human form and asserting his dominance as the alpha. Wheeler thought for sure something would spook his wolf and he’d lunge at Austin, but no such thing had happened. Maybe his wolf sensed they were family, or maybe it had to do with them also being wolves.
Wheeler made a quiet decision that he would never shift around Naya. Ever. That could never happen. The panther fights were some of the most vicious he’d endured, and no way in hell would he risk putting her in danger.
After Lexi left the heat house, Naya rapped her knuckles lightly on the door and announced he was free to go. When he got u
p and opened the bathroom door, she’d already switched out the lights and had gone to bed. The only light in the room emanated from a dim nightlight behind the sink.
He eyed the doorknob, but something compelled him to stay.
“What are you doing?” she asked sleepily.
“Scoot over. We’re cuddling.”
She giggled in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Wheeler pulled the sheet over them and pressed their bodies together. She had put on a baby-doll nightie, and he couldn’t stop touching the lacy fabric. Damn, she was such a sexual creature, and he was so uptight about sex. Not the act of it, but sexuality itself.
The tenderness.
The vulnerability.
The intimacy.
Wheeler was no stranger to strip clubs, but the performances were impersonal and didn’t have the same effect on him as when Naya jutted her hip out and played with the collar of her blouse.
Let alone curled up next to him in a fucking nightie that had him rock hard in seconds. All he wanted to do was touch the long ribbons in front, smooth his hand over the silky fabric, and play with the lacy ruffles along the hem.
He’d never felt a need to sate a woman as badly as he did with Naya. It was no longer about his needs, but hers. Had any of the men in her life cared about her wants and desires? Obviously not if they took off after sex. And when he gently slid her panties down, he made sure her needs were met. Wheeler laughed when she argued, wanting to satisfy him in return. Nope. He wasn’t having it.
After they’d fallen asleep, he awoke to the feel of her beneath the sheets, sucking on him hard.
Naya was unabashed about her sexuality, but the best part of that damn night was falling asleep behind her with his face nestled in all those beautiful curls of hair. The smell of her, the feel, and hearing the small grunts and moans as she slept. The way her cold feet would seek out his legs for warmth, her soft breath skating across his arm. She looked like an angel. He hadn’t realized how satisfying it could be just to hold someone.