Taming the Wolf

by Maureen Smith

  She frowned, setting down the newspaper. Just because Marcus had a humanitarian spirit didn’t mean he couldn’t also be a womanizer. Congress was filled with politicians who performed good

  Taming the Wolf

  deeds, but still cheated on their spouses. Some also accepted bribes under the table. When it came down to it, what Marcus did in his private life was none of her business.

  Unless she could use it to her advantage.

  Samara grew still as an idea formed in her mind. According to the article, Marcus was giving a lecture at his alma mater, Georgetown University, that evening. The event was free and opened to the public. Maybe if Samara showed up and…And what? After the way she’d insulted him in New York, she couldn’t very well walk right up to him tonight and ask for a large sum of money. She’d be lucky if he spoke to her at all. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try. And if he showed even the least bit of interest in her…well, she would definitely use that to her advantage.

  Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

  Chapter Three

  When Samara arrived at Georgetown University that evening, twenty minutes late thanks to a traffic accident, the auditorium was filled to standing room only. She

  joined a row of spectators lined up in the back, then quickly turned her attention to the podium, where Marcus Wolf was already speaking.

  Her heart gave an involuntary thump at the sight of him. Even from a distance, he looked fine as hell in a double-breasted charcoal-gray suit that accentuated his powerful build. He appeared relaxed and confident as he discussed the importance of civic engagement, exhorting the law students in attendance to make sure they were entering the profession for the right reasons—to change the world. The audience was riveted, and Samara could see why. Marcus Wolf was an incredible speaker, one of the most compelling she’d ever heard. And the sound of his deep, masculine voice set off a slow burn between her legs.

  It came as no surprise when, at the end of his presentation, Marcus received a rousing standing ovation that lasted at least three minutes. A flurry of questions followed, many from students who wanted to learn more about his journey to becoming one of the country’s leading tort attorneys. Others asked questions about some of the more controversial cases he’d successfully litigated in court. And several people wanted to know whether his firm was hiring and what kind of skills and qualifications he looked for in an associate.

  One dark-haired young woman stood and asked him why he wasn’t married yet, which drew a round of laughter as everyone in the room awaited Marcus’s response. Samara even found herself holding her breath.

  30A slow, lazy grin curved his mouth as he regarded the student. “Are you proposing?” he drawled.

  The girl actually blushed and gave him a flirtatious smile. “I am now. And if it helps my chances any, I’m graduating in the top three percent of my class next month.”

  Marcus nodded approvingly. “Talk to me afterward,” he told her with a wink, and the crowd reacted with more laughter, enjoying the playful exchange.

  Not surprisingly, the pretty brunette was the first in line to speak to him when the event was over. And she wasn’t alone.

  Standing in the back of the auditorium, Samara resigned herself to an unbearably long wait as throngs of people lined up to ask Marcus more questions and to get his autograph. Half an hour passed before the room finally began to empty.

  Seeing her chance, Samara drew a deep breath to calm her jittery nerves and approached Marcus just as he finished conversing with an older black gentleman.

  When Marcus’s gaze landed on hers, her mouth went dry. Up close, he was even finer than she remembered, with his dark, mesmerizing eyes and smooth mahogany skin. His firm, sensuous lips glistened with moisture as he sipped his water. Samara actually found herself envying the bottle of Evian.

  If Marcus was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. “Ms. Layton,” he murmured in polite greeting.

  “I really enjoyed your lecture,” Samara told him, smiling warmly. “It was very inspiring.”

  He inclined his head. “Glad you got something out of it.”

  “Definitely. And that was a great write-up about you in the Post. When we met on Saturday, you didn’t mention that you’d recently relocated to D.C.”

  His mouth twitched. “I would’ve gotten around to it eventually.”

  Her smile turned rueful. “If I’d given you a chance,” she translated.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Only because you’re too polite.”

  Marcus chuckled, and her belly flip-flopped at the low, sexy rumble.

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and watched as his heavy-lidded gaze followed the gesture. She knew the glossy red color she wore showed off her full lips to advantage. Thank you, MAC.

  She gave Marcus a knowing look. “You must give presentations all the time. Just how many marriage proposals have you received? Or have you lost count?”

  “Nah, this was a first.” The way his gaze lingered on her lips made her nipples harden. As if he sensed her body’s reaction, his dark eyes drifted lower, to the plunging neckline of the sheer red blouse she wore. Her skin burned as if he’d actually leaned down and brushed his mouth over her breast. She trembled at the thought.

  “A first, huh?” she murmured, her voice throaty with arousal. “I find that hard to believe.”

  His eyes returned slowly to her face. “Believe it,” he said huskily. “I always remember my firsts.”

  Heat pooled between Samara’s legs. Their gazes locked. The air between them crackled with sexual tension.

  “I must admit, Ms. Layton,” Marcus said softly. “I was a little surprised when I looked out into the audience tonight and saw you.”

  His words sent a thrill of pleasure through her. The fact that he’d picked her out in a roomful of over six hundred people meant more to her than he could ever know.

  “Despite the way I behaved in New York,” she heard herself telling him, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

  If Marcus’s eyes weren’t so dark, she would have sworn his pupils dilated. His nostrils flared slightly, and beneath the expensive suit jacket he wore, his chest seemed to rise and fall more rapidly. Trapped in the smoldering heat of his gaze, Samara felt her own breathing quicken. She hadn’t meant to blurt out the confession, but if Marcus kept devouring her with those sexy bedroom eyes, God only knew what else would come out of her mouth.

  Make love to me came to mind.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed two sharply dressed men and an attractive black woman hovering nearby, watching her and Marcus.

  “I shouldn’t hold you up any longer,” Samara murmured apologetically. “People are still waiting to speak to you.”

  He released her from his gaze long enough to meet the stares of the others with indifference. “Those are my senior associates. We’re supposed to be meeting for drinks after this.”

  “Well, in that case, I’d better let you go.” She reached out and touched his arm, letting her hand linger for a prolonged moment. “It was good to see you again, Mr. Wolf.”

  “Likewise,” he drawled.

  As Samara turned and walked away, she was acutely aware of him watching her, his gaze like a physical touch on her back. She knew the picture she made, with her short black skirt clinging to her curves and her stiletto heels accentuating the shapely expanse of her long legs. She was counting on Marcus appreciating the view— appreciating it enough to want more.

  She left the auditorium and started toward the double glass doors leading to the parking lot. A number of people were still milling about, chatting in small clusters or talking animatedly on cell phones.

  Before Samara reached the exit, she made a detour, rounding a corner and heading down an empty corridor that led to the restrooms.

  “Samara.”

  She turned to find Marcus striding purposefully toward her, his dark, intoxicating gaze locked
on hers. She waited, heart hammering wildly in her chest, anticipation pulsing through her veins.

  When he’d stopped before her, she stared up at him. “Marcus—”

  Without a word, he cupped her face in his large hands and crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue plunging inside and stroking deep.

  Samara eagerly responded, wrapping her arms around his neck and reaching on tiptoe to press herself more firmly against his hard, muscular body. Liquid heat coiled inside her, drawing tighter and tighter until she thought she’d explode. She’d never known there could be so much pleasure in a man’s hungry kiss. But it was more than just a kiss. It was an all over body experience, the way Marcus sucked on her tongue and rubbed his chest against her breasts, making them swell and her nipples harden to aching points.

  “I want something from you,” she breathed into his mouth, while she still had the presence of mind to warn him.

  “I’m counting on it,” he whispered huskily.

  Without breaking the kiss, he backed her up, one step at a time, through the open doorway of a dark, empty classroom. He shoved the door closed behind them, then backed her against the wall. He cupped her buttocks and lifted her off the floor as Samara wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt riding up her thighs. The bulge of his erection pressed against the lace crotch of her panties, making her hot and wet. Their lips met again, meshing and parting as the kiss grew wilder, more intense.

  Samara knew what they were doing was the epitome of insanity, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that she needed him, wanted him like nothing she’d ever wanted before. And the reality of this moment was even better than her fantasies.

  Dazedly she watched as Marcus reached inside the plunging neckline of her sheer silk blouse. She shivered as his knuckle grazed her skin, searing her to the bone. She sucked in a sharp breath when he cupped one lace-covered breast in his hand. Holding her gaze, he slipped a thumb inside her bra and rubbed it back and forth against her tight nipple, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. She rocked fitfully against him, trying to position the bulge in his pants right where she wanted it.

  With a soft, husky laugh, Marcus bent his head and drew her nipple into the silken heat of his mouth. A ragged moan escaped from her throat. Her back arched as his tongue caressed the sensitive peak, licking and sucking. She felt the pull of his mouth everywhere—in the pit of her stomach, in her trembling thighs, between them. He kissed his way to her other breast and treated it to the same delicious torment. All the while, his hips ground against hers in a slow, subtle rhythm that nearly made her cum.

  She caught his head between her hands and brought his mouth back to hers, kissing him greedily, showing him just how much she wanted him. As their tongues mated feverishly, he cupped her breasts in his hands, thumbing her wet nipples, rasping them. She writhed against him, mindless with need. She didn’t know how much more she could take without begging him to make love to her right where they were.

  His hands slid down her back, then grasped her bare buttocks beneath her hiked-up skirt. Samara’s heart pounded hard as his fingers edged toward her moist, aching center. Breathing became secondary to the heightened anticipation of his touch. She closed her eyes, then gasped as one finger slid beneath her panties and found her throbbing clitoris.

  Her eyes flew open, and she gazed up at him as he began to stroke the slick nub, slow and tantalizing, until a shaking moan rose up in her throat.

  Marcus watched her, devouring her with his gaze, his face hard and dark with passion. “You’re so wet,” he said, the words so low and guttural they were practically a growl. His fingers glided over the folds of her sex, spreading her slick wetness over swollen, sensitive flesh. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “You like that?” he whispered huskily.

  “Yes,” she moaned breathlessly, rocking against his hand. “That feels so good.”

  It was an understatement if she’d ever heard one, but she could barely speak, let alone think of better adjectives. Besides, she doubted there was a word to describe the sensual pleasure she was experiencing, the exquisite sensations overtaking her body.

  All thoughts ceased as Marcus slipped one thick finger deep inside her. She cried out hoarsely and clung to him. She felt the iron steel in his shoulders, the way his muscles bunched and flexed beneath his suit jacket.

  He lowered his head and slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her as his finger moved slow and deep. It was sensory overload, the sweetest torture she’d ever endured. Powerless against the sensual onslaught, Samara arched against his hand, meeting each deep, penetrating thrust with moans that he swallowed in his mouth. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pushed a second finger inside her.

  She cried out, her hips pumping wildly against him as the sensations intensified, burned. His fingers moved deeper and faster inside her. His thumb stroked her clitoris until her body began to convulse uncontrollably.

  “Marcus…Oh yes!” She rode his fingers as she climaxed, her thighs taut and shaking, waves of ecstasy bursting through her. The spasms ceased after several moments, releasing her from the grip of the most powerful orgasm she’d ever had in her life.

  Weak and spent, she dropped her head against Marcus’s solid chest and closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, and she felt a twinge of guilt that he’d done all the hard work and received so little in return.

  She lifted her head to survey his shadowed face in the moonlit darkness of the room. His eyes were glittering onyx as he gazed back at her, his lids at half-mast. Damn, he was sexy.

  “I’ve kept you from your friends,” was all she could say.

  Marcus chuckled, the sound low and rough and innately masculine. “You don’t hear me complaining.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “That’s because you’re too polite.”

  He chuckled again. “Get to know me a little better and you’ll see that I’m anything but polite.”

  Samara laughed, thinking just how much better she’d like to get to know him. In every wicked way imaginable.

  Reluctantly, she unwrapped her legs from his waist, and he eased her down and stepped back. While he adjusted his silk tie, she straightened her blouse and tugged her skirt back into place. Her inner thighs were slick with moisture. She’d cum all over Marcus’s hand, but instead of feeling self-conscious or ashamed, she felt only deliciously satisfied. And rather amazed. If Marcus Wolf could rock her world with just one finger, she could only imagine the kind of damage his rock-hard dick would do. Her nipples puckered at the mere thought.

  She retrieved her purse from the floor and reached inside for a business card. As she passed it to Marcus, their fingers brushed, and her skin tingled with awakened nerve endings. Their gazes met and held.

  “Call me sometime,” Samara murmured. Without waiting for his response, she turned and slipped quietly out of the room.

  1

  Marcus was still nursing a hard-on by the time he joined his colleagues at the downtown sports bar where they’d agreed to meet for drinks.

  As he sat down at the table, Donovan Ware, his former college roommate and current employee, sent a triumphant look at the blond-haired man seated across from him. “Ha, I was right! Pay up, Blair!”

  Scowling, Timothy Blair dug inside his wallet, retrieved a twenty-dollar bill and tossed it grudgingly across the table. “You got lucky this time, Ware,” he grumbled.

  Donovan laughed, cheerfully pocketing the money. Marcus watched the exchange with a raised brow. “Did I miss something?”

  Timothy threw him a disgruntled look. “You weren’t supposed to show up. I bet your buddy here you’d blow us off for that hot number you were talking to before we left.”

  Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. “Good to know the money I pay you guys is being put to good use. I’ll have a scotch,” he told the young redhead who appeared at their table to take his order.

  Her wid
e green eyes were latched onto his face. “Excuse me for asking, but aren’t you Marcus Wolf?”

  Marcus smiled lazily. “Last I checked.”

  She beamed. “Oh my God! I saw the article in today’s paper. I’m a huge fan of yours, Mr. Wolf. My name’s Meagan.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Meagan.”

  Excitedly, she tore off a sheet of paper from her notepad. “Could I have your autograph?”

  “Of course.” Marcus signed the paper and handed it back to the waitress, who clutched it to her chest as if it were a winning lottery ticket.

  “Thank you so much,” she gushed. “I’ll be right back with your drink.”

  As she moved off, Donovan grinned and shook his smooth bald head at Marcus. “You’re gonna have to start beating them off with a stick, man.”

  “Or you could just hand them over to me,” Timothy suggested. “Starting with that hottie back at the university. Man, she was beautiful.”

  Donovan snorted. “You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like that, Blair.”

  “And you would?”

  “Damn straight!”

  Marcus tuned out their bickering as his mind wandered back to the erotic encounter with Samara Layton. He still couldn’t believe it had happened. Since meeting her in New York on Saturday, he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind. When he first saw her tonight, standing in the back of the auditorium, he’d thought his mind was playing tricks on him. It was only after she’d stepped to him, and he found himself gazing down into those dark gypsy eyes, that he realized she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. When she smiled at him, his heart turned leaped. When she actually reached out and touched him, blood rushed straight to his groin. Her sultry confession—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you—had pretty much sealed the deal. What man in his right mind wouldn’t have followed her after hearing something like that?