He chuckles, the sound vibrating pleasantly against my chest. “I’ve spent years looking at architectural perfection, Ruby. I know beauty when I see it—even when it comes in unexpected packages.”
“Sweet talker.” I push him back toward the leather office chair, surprising both of us with my boldness. “Sit.”
He complies without hesitation, and the significance isn’t lost on me. In the boardroom, in public spaces, prey species never yield to predators. They’ve built an entire society around making sure we know our place. Yet here, in this intimate space, Percy—heir to the Porkwell empire—follows my lead without question.
The power of it sends a thrill through me that has nothing to do with my heat cycle, and everything to do with being acknowledged as an equal.
Or maybe, in this moment, even something more.
I straddle his lap feeling a rush of heat as his eyes widen. His hands immediately find my hips, steadying me as I grind my soaking panties against the impressive bulge in his boxers.
For once, I’m not the wolf trying to be heard in rooms designed to silence me. Here, he listens to every move, every sound I make.
He is completely at my mercy.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his thumbs tracing circles on my bare skin.
“Just thinking about how different this is,” I admit. “Out there, I’m just the angry wolf activist. In here…”
“In here, you’re Ruby,” he finishes. “And I’m just Percy. No family legacies, no species politics. Just us.”
It’s a beautiful thought. I wonder how long it can last.
“This is better than our meetings at City Hall,” he says, voice strained.
I nip at his ear, letting my teeth graze the sensitive flesh. “Speak for yourself. I enjoy watching you squirm during my public comments.”
His hands tighten on my hips, guiding my movements against him. “I noticed. You always wear red when you plan to eviscerate us publicly. Like a warning sign.”
I’m surprised he noticed. “Red is a power color.”
“It’s your color.” His mouth finds my breast, and coherent thought becomes significantly more challenging. He sucks my sensitive nipple into his mouth, sending a shiver through my core.
We move together with increasing urgency, and all pretense of professional decorum is abandoned. His boxers join my braon the floor, and soon, I’m sliding against him, slick with want.
Unable to wait any longer, I slide my panties to the side and sink down onto his thick hog. The sensation is exquisite—a perfect fullness, a connection that transcends our biological differences. We both gasp, frozen for a moment in mutual shock, at how right it feels. The heat of his body against mine, the gaspof pleasure that escapes his mouth unbidden, it all drives me wild.
Then instinct takes over.
I move on him with increasing confidence, setting a rhythm that has him gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. His mouth finds mine. Our kisses grow messier, more desperate as the tension builds.
“Ruby,” he groans against my lips. “You feel incredible.”
I should have some snarky response, some witty retort to maintain emotional distance. Instead, I whimper his name as he hits a spot inside me that sends sparks shooting up my spine.
The wolf in me—the primal, untamed part—begins to surface. My movements become more aggressive, my nails digging into his shoulders. A growl builds in my throat, rumbling out as he matches my intensity, thrusting up to meet each downward motion.
“That’s it,” he encourages, seemingly unafraid of my predator side emerging. “Let go, Ruby. Let me see you.”
Something about his acceptance, his encouragement of the very part of me society demands I suppress, pushes me closer to the edge. My head falls back, exposing my throat in a display of trust no wolf gives lightly.
Percy understands the significance. His mouth finds my throat, but instead of a dominant bite, he places gentle kisses along the vulnerable line of my neck.
The tenderness nearly undoes me.
“Percy,” I gasp, trembling on the verge. “I’m close.”
“I’ve got you,” he urges, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit with surprising dexterity.
