“If you want it, ask me in 1950s slang.”
I looked at him over my shoulder, my pleasure-suffused brain trying to understand what the hell he was talking about.And then I did, and I was pissed.“You have got… to be freaking… kidding me!”
A dark eyebrow quirked, and an evil little smile played at the corner of his mouth.“Show me how much of a woman you are,” he said, parroting my own words back to me.
“I’m about to, any second now!”
But any second turned into any minute, because that bastard knew me, too.And he was clearly bent on justice.Sweet, sweet justice, or on driving me crazy, because he suddenly slowed things down.
Way down.
He started kissing my neck, gently tonguing the mark he’d made earlier, like this was the time for foreplay.Or an appetizer when I was ready for the main course!Which continued not to be served.
Instead, he played around with a nipple, leaving me aching and thrusting into his hand the same way he’d done to me.Only I didn’t have the luxury of a barrier, wool or otherwise, to lessen the sensation.It was just a knowing touch on warm, bare flesh, teasing, teasing, teasing, until the little nub was as hard as it was going to get, and I was wet enough to float theTitanic.
And nothing.
He was driving me completely insane, and I wasn’t the only one.His wolf was too near the surface tonight not to take an interest in the proceedings, and he did not understand what the trouble was.He kept howling at Cyrus to please his lady already, which, yeah, what he said!
But Cyrus ignored him.So I woke up my own wolf so she could help my cause, only that wasn’t what happened.She and Cyrus’s alter ego bounded around a little, as they always did when meeting each other, as if they’d been away for a year instead of a few hours or days.And then, once she understood the problem, they decided that the best way to assist would be a demonstration, as they were also a mated pair.And started proving that by getting busy in metaphysical space, which only made things worse!
Her boundless enthusiasm bled over into me, heightening my need, which was already intense.Making me gasp and writhe and swear against the goddamned sofa back, while she, the wanton hussy, made no attempt to get Cyrus’s other half to slap him into shape.Instead, she distracted his wolf, losing me my only ally.
And making Cyrus chuckle, because he was following all of this, too.
“Damn it!”I panted.“Stop being adick!”
This brilliant argument did not appear to sway him.And just as I’d been able to tease him without finishing the job, he drew on extensive knowledge of my preferences to bring me to the brink over and over and over andover.But never letting me finish.
“Goddamn...you!”
“Think Marilyn Monroe,” he whispered, bending over to whisper in my ear—and changing positions yet again.
“No!Go back!Go back!”
“Or Betty Grable.Or Jayne Mansfield—”
“You know… those were all… blondes!”I snarled.
“Or the divine Betty Paige, the exquisite Jane Russell, the immortal Sophia Loren—”
“How are you able… to think… this clearly?”I asked.
“You know why.”
He did something that had my toes curling and my eyes disappearing into my skull, possibly permanently.
“Say it,” he ordered.
“Oh, God.”
“Sayyy iiiitttt—”
“You’re abastard!”
“You know, I can do this all day.”
And the damned thing was, he could.Were stamina was legendary, but my patience wasn’t!Or my sanity!
