Big Bad Wolfie novel Chapter 45

Wolfie looked at me with golden fire in his eyes, and I immediately got defensive.

  "Oh! Don't you give me that look! You — !"

I had a whole rant ready about how he had no right to drag me anywhere, how he wasn't allowed to be mad, and how much I absolutely despise him.

. . . Then it all puffed out of existence when his lips slammed onto mine.

They came down on me hard and fast and vengeful.

My mind went so crazy it was silent.

Then all my senses came back with a resounding NO.

But I couldn't stop my hands from gripping the back of his head and forcing him impossibly closer if I tried.

Crap, he's going crazy and it's driving me crazy.

His and his wolf's scents are mingling and heating up my usually cold blooded self.

Speaking of his wolf, a.k.a Malaki, he's on the verge of breaking out.

  Wolfie's entire being is shaking. His skin feels even tighter and hotter to the touch than usual with all the muscle bulging against it. Almost like it's trying to break out.

  As much as I crave to see his wolf, I don't know if a side room of a club is the best place to unleash him.

  Also, I'm pretty sure he's the one putting most of the animalistic ideas in Wolfie's head.

Forcefully marking me, for instance.

My mind flashed back to the present, the one with Wolfie's lips on mine, when I felt one of his canines bite into my lower lip.

It made a very uncharacteristic squeak come out of my mouth that we're not going to talk about.

All anyone needs to know is that it drove him crazier.

His arms around me got more frantic in their search to feel every inch of me. I almost didn't feel it when he rammed us into a wall.

I barely registered that he set me on a counter. The only thing that truly clicked, was when he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back.

It didn't hurt, it was just very clear I wasn't going anywhere.

He started attacking my neck. My mind is going haywire.

I feel like my entire being is betraying me. The closer he gets to his mark, the more I hate him and want him off.

But at the same time, never want him to stop.

I focused on my feeble breaths for a second.

"Wait, stop," I mumbled pathetically.

Goddess, that practically sounded like a plead for more.

He surprised me by tearing himself back — of course not too far — but enough to be able to look at me. His eyes are crazy.

I know I say this a lot, but I mean it every time, his eyes are more animalistic and alight than I've ever seen them.

"Must get scents off," the sound rumbled from the back of his throat.

He went back to his open mouthed and aggressive kisses on my neck.

I couldn't stop squirming in his iron hold. I feel like I'm being set on fire.

Why is he always doing that?

Apparently he wanted me to stop squirming though, because his grip tightened almost — but not quite — painfully.

A growl tore through the air as he gritted into my ear. "Mine!"

He went back to attacking my neck, a little more aggressively.

I only panted in response.

He didn't like that.

He gripped my hair tighter and pressed me impossibly closer between the wall and him.

Now I know how peanut butter and jelly feel.

Half of me is jeally and the other half is crying with conflicting emotions.

But then he bit down on my mark and it felt like I literally just took a hit of all the best drugs.

And without the terrifying needles! How lucky.

"Mine!" He growled again loudly into my neck, and bit down even harder, demanding my full attention and a response. My tummy turned at his power move. He's trying to show me who's boss.

I'm sure I'll have a problem with it later, but I can't seem to find myself having one now.

I let out another embarrassing sound that was a mix between a squeak and a yelp.

Crap, I'm putty in his hands.

. . . Oh well, screw it.

I gave a weak nod.

"Say it!" He bellowed, removing the intoxicating torture from my mark, but not letting up on his attack on my neck.

He started working his way back up to my face.

"Yours," I panted.

His chest rumbled in approval.

Holy frick, I can't take this. He's too intoxicating and I'm too drunk on him to think straight.

"Mine," I mumbled on autopilot as I brought his lips to mine to kiss him slowly.

Somehow, my hands ended up under his shirt, and the kiss isn't slow anymore. It's back to being fast and crazed.

He went to reach under my shirt as well, but only found the knot I had tied very tightly into my shirt.

He growled in frustration at how it wasn't budging.

I found myself giggling and exploring more of his chest while he struggled.