Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Before I can draw a breath, I’m coming, my internal muscles squeezing and tightening around his thick cock, my hips bucking against his, making his pumping finger stretch my anus wider as my clit grinds down on his root. I’m gushing, my fluids dripping onto the floor in my first female ejaculation.
“Oh my God!” If I sound shocked, it’s because I am.
No matter, Brick takes care of me, carrying me to the bed and laying me down, our bodies still intimately connected.
“Oh my God,” I repeat, incapable of anything more than babble.
“That’s right, little girl. Who makes you come so hard you forget your name?”
I orgasm again, my inner thighs squeezing around his hips, muscles shivering with the release. “You do,” I rasp. “My Big Bad Boss.”
When my vision clears, I realize Brick is smiling down at me. His normally stoic or even severe expression is transformed in the swoon worthy grin.
I blink up at him, my heart melting and joining the puddle that is my body. “What?”
He removes his finger from my ass, but rocks into me with his still erect dick. “You heard some words after I called you little girl.”
I laugh. “Don’t count it as a win. My frontal lobe was temporarily incapacitated.”
“Mmm.” He rocks in and out again, his lids drooping in pleasure. “Marry me, Madi.”
It shouldn’t be a surprise that he proposed. He tried in Greece, and I’m wearing his ring already. Still, this time, I have the fairytale reaction–the kind you’re supposed to have when the man of your dreams asks you to marry him.
I lose my breath. See moons dance across the ceiling.
Fall further in love.
“Okay, Big Bad,” I whisper.
He flashes another one of those panty-melting smiles. It’s hard to imagine I’ll ever be able to reason again with the few brain cells that haven’t gone south.
He pulls out of me. “Good thing you said yes.”
“Why is that?”
“I was about ready to show you that you’re mine.” He rolls me to my belly and delivers a few light spanks.
I cover my ass, laughing. “Yes. I’m definitely yours.” I roll back over. “So…if this is a medieval sort of marriage, am I expected to be your breeder? Oh.” I remember why Brick’s pack rejected me. “I guess I would muddy the bloodline.”
Brick climbs over me, pinning my wrists to the mattress beside my head. “Not would. Will. You’re having my pups.”
I roll my hips to meet his. “Am I?”
“Yes. Preferably as soon as possible, but I’m open to negotiation.” He nibbles at my neck, his cock lengthening between my legs. “I know how good you are at getting your way with me.”
I scrape my fingernails along the back of his neck. “I’m going to need at least four years before we start that discussion. I’m taking the helm of a major cosmetics company.”
His brows pop. “You are?”
I nod. “Yes. Eleanor says she’s leaving me controlling interest, and I’d better come and learn at her side before she bites it for good.”
Brick appears slightly alarmed. He goes still. “Damn. I…don’t want to manage without you, but I understand. That’s a big opportunity.”
“If we’re going to be partners in this relationship, I can’t go back to working under you.”
A wicked glimmer appears in Brick’s eyes. “Oh, I intend to keep you working under me the majority of the time. We’ll just need a new title for you,” he rumbles, rocking his pelvis so the head of his cock slides over my entrance again.
“Like what?”
He shoves into me without any assistance from his hands. “Mrs. Blackthroat.”
I gasp at the sudden thrust, sore from all our sex play. My lids droop as he arcs in and out of me, starting up a slow rhythm. “I’m keeping my own last name, Big Bad.”
He slows his rhythm and lowers his head to kiss me. “Mrs. Blackthroat,” he murmurs.
I laugh. “I prefer Madi.”
“Madi. Madison. Mate. Wife.” He thrusts in harder, building momentum.
I arch, my body so attuned to his now that my own need rises and surges in concert with his. “I’m not your wife, yet, Big Bad,” I remind him. “There will need to be a wedding first.”
“Ah yes.” He shifts his grip to brace one hand against the headboard. “The wedding. We’ll do all your human rituals. Every one of them–engagement party, bridal showers, bachelorette festivus. No prenup, of course. I want the human law to reflect pack law. What’s mine is yours.”
His eyes change to gold, warning me he’s about to come. I dig my nails into his shoulders, rock my pelvis to take him deeper. We peak at the same time, our orgasms gasped out with mingled breath, our bodies locked together. I receive him, and he gives.
“Mrs. Blackthroat,” he murmurs, rolling us onto our sides, our bodies still connected.
My lids close in pleasure. “Evans-Blackthroat,” I mumble, my lips grazing his throat.