Wolf Gone Wild

He chuckled, holding my gaze as he inserted his index and middle finger all the way into his mouth, sucking them clean. His moan vibrated into the side of my rib cage where he leaned his weight against me, skin on skin.

“Fucking fantastic is right.” He stared up at me and slipped those two fingers back down along my pussy, a glorious slick glide down to my entrance, then he pumped inside.

“Oh shit, oh shit.”

Two deep thrusts of his fingers up to his knuckles and I was coming already. I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold on, but there was no way.

He launched up over me, still stroking his fingers deep. “No you fucking don’t. I want to hear you. Let me hear you come on my fingers, Evie.”

Arching my neck and my hips, I let out a throaty moan as the greatest orgasm ever rocked my world. His hot mouth was on my neck with a swift bite then his tongue was in my mouth, stroking hard, devouring every sound. His fingers were thrust deep, holding still as I throbbed around him. His kiss was rough and thorough and wonderful. He kept kissing me down, swallowing my little sounds, my panting breaths.

“So glad we’re out of the friend zone,” I muttered.

He laughed into the curve of my neck before planting a kiss there. He curved his palm over my mound, his fingers still partly inside me. He lifted his head from my neck to gaze down at his fingers working me. Those dark eyes promised a world of heady pleasure, and when I wasn’t wrung out from a super speedy orgasm like a wet noodle, I planned to partake of all those promises. Right now, all I could do was lay there and stare back at him, catching my breath.

He grazed his nose over mine. “Did that feel good?”

I laughed. “You know it did.”

“That was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He gave my little lady a firm squeeze, like a good handshake that says I’ll see you again soon, then he eased his fingers out and pulled my panties and sleep shorts back up my hips. “I was planning to do that a little differently, but…”

“Differently how?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I was getting ready to go down on you and let you come on my tongue.”

My brain fizzled a second, imagining what glorious heaven that would feel like.

He made sure my shorts were right, then he lowered my tank and slid his hand up over the material to leisurely cup my breast. It wasn’t a sexual touch, but it definitely was a possessive one.

“You just went faster than I thought.”

I swallowed my pride because, hell, I hadn’t been with a guy in a long time. And I sure as shit hadn’t been this turned on in like forever. “Sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t be sorry.” He blew out a breath then licked his lips as he stared at my mouth. “I’ll take care of that fantasy of mine next time.”

“Next time? There will be a next time then?”

A pause for a soft, sultry kiss, then his voice all smoky baritone rumbled, “There will be many, many next times.” Another dip and melding of mouths without tongue. “Now roll over and get some sleep. Hopefully, you won’t have trouble now.”

It just hit me like a dummy that he gave me that fantastic orgasm so I could relax. And sleep. Jeesh.

“You know, for a big, bad werewolf, you sure are sweet.”

He rolled my body to face away from him, then pulled me completely flush into the curve of his body, his bare chest pumping major heat into my back. It felt delicious.

“You sure you don’t want some, uh…you know.” I nudged back with my bum. “Reciprocation?”

His mouth was on the slope of my neck and shoulder. I swear I felt his cock twitch, but he made no move to thrust against me.

“No,” he said calmly, pressing the sweetest, softest kisses to my neck before nuzzling his nose into my hair and squeezing his arm tight around my waist. “This is all I need right now.”

“Just this?”

“Yep. Just this.”

“You sure?”

He tightened his hold. “Very.”

I settled my head onto the pillow, but couldn’t help but ask, “Because if you want—”

His fingers dug into my ribs, tickling, and I squealed into the pillow with a huff of laughter. Then I felt teeth on my neck, and I stilled.

“Sleep, Evie,” he whispered, kissing me where he’d bitten.

I let out a contented sigh, wondering if I could possibly fall asleep with this gorgeous hunk of man pressed up against me from behind. Funny, even after I’d met Mateo’s wolf firsthand at the haunted house and knowing there was a scary-ass witch who’d put a black magic curse on him, I still felt safer in his arms than anywhere else.

I fell asleep faster than ever.

Chapter 25

~MATEO~

I woke up alone to the screeching sound of what I thought was someone singing. Very badly.

In the kitchen, I could hear the chatter of Evie and her sisters, as well as one of them singing—or trying to sing—“Think of Me” from the Phantom of the Opera. Might as well roll out of bed since there was no way I could sleep through that.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I remembered the night before and smiled. Even though my morning wood was as painful as ever, I was somehow satisfied.

What? No cocky, asshole-ish remarks?

I’m not talking to you right now.

Fine by me.

I was rested, content, and strangely relaxed. There was no question that it was all because I slept with Evie in my arms last night.

Imagine what you’d feel like if you’d fucked her like I told you to before you fell asleep.

I thought you weren’t talking to me?

Silence again. Good.

I glanced around the room, taking in her bedroom. It was simple with a dash of quirky. Like her. I chuckled at the unicorn-farting-a-rainbow lamp and the Wolverine clock on the nightstand. Warmth pooled at the center of my chest, especially when I saw her cute pajamas tossed on a chair. My cock stiffened more when I remembered sliding my hands into those pajamas last night.

I looked around and found my shirt from last night folded at the foot of the bed like Evie wanted me to find it. After shrugging into it, I caught sight of her tablet on the nightstand. Glancing at the door, I tuned into the voices in the kitchen, able to make out the distinctly deeper voice of Jules, the throaty, friendly voice of Evie, and the higher-pitched, sweet voice of Clara.

I stared at the tablet and walked over to the nightstand. I shouldn’t invade her privacy. I really shouldn’t.

You really should. Why’s she keeping secrets from us?

She isn’t keeping secrets. It’s just private, whatever she’s working on in here.

Doooo it.

Having Alpha whisper in my ear all day was like having a devil on my shoulder.

That’s right, bitch. I’m your devil. Now open it.

The problem was, there was no angel on the other shoulder. And sometimes, Alpha was so fucking hard to resist.

I snatched up the tablet and opened it, surprised to find it unlocked. It was already open in a software program called Clip Studio Paint Pro. The file at the top read Witches in the City. It was obviously her own artwork.

“Wow.”

It was an illustrated comic, currently at fifty pages long. I started flipping to the next screen and the next. Some were divided into full-page spreads, others were half and quarter with amazing different angles. After being completely stupefied by her talent, I slowed down and read some of the story. It was Fred, their rooster, strutting into a ballroom, wearing a black silk bowtie next to a woman with pink dyed hair in a black cocktail dress.

They swaggered into the party with upturned chins, or actually one upturned chin and one beak, while the onlookers gasped in shock. It was obviously Violet, though the host of the party greeted her as Lily.

Just. Wow.

It was about her and her sisters. I skimmed through the rest, completely blown away by her skill. Why wasn’t she publishing these? Were there more?

I closed the file and scrolled down to some Adobe Photoshop files in a folder called Works in Progress. My heart pounded out of my chest when I saw a folder titled Mr. Wolfman.

“No way.”

Clicking it open, I sat back on the bed and skimmed through sketch after sketch…of me. Close-ups, angles from above, profiles, long distance of me on the street, of me working in my studio, clothes on, shirtless, and a lengthy portfolio study of my arms and hands.

Yeah, baby. Someone wants Daddy’s hands on her.

I was floored and shocked and turned on all at the same time. A lot of the sketches were nothing but rough drafts, but some had been detailed and fleshed out with layers of color and contour lines in Adobe.

The giant printer next to her desktop on the desk could also double as a scanner. Closing the tablet, I went to the desk and pulled out the top drawer on the right. It was deep and filled with single page sketches. The one sitting on top made me drop into the desk chair.

I lifted the black and white sketch of me walking down Magazine—I could tell because French Truck Coffee was behind me—wearing my hoodie, one hand in my jeans pocket and the other holding a short leash that was attached to a wolf at my side.

Besides the fact that she’d obviously been studying me with unbelievable detail these past few weeks, I couldn’t get over the mastery of her craft. Her skill in drawing and technique in facial expression was easily better than most professionals in this trade.

Granted, I wasn’t a comic book expert like her, but I knew the artform well enough. Scott’s artwork was similar, though he only used charcoal medium. I couldn’t get over this.

Evie was a true artist, and yet she’d been hiding it.

Why?

Plates and forks clanged in the kitchen, and I heard the snarky addition of Violet to the boisterous voices. I wished I could have Evie alone so I could tell her how absolutely amazing she was, but it seemed that conversation would have to wait.

Tucking the sketch back into the drawer, I ducked into the hallway bathroom, took care of business, and found an extra, unopened toothbrush in the drawer, which I took the liberty to use before heading into the kitchen.