TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 8

chapter 8

Her p***y clamps down on my fingers so hard I feel it in my c**k, and she comes with a strangled cry that makes me want to throw her on the floor and fuck her until neither of us

can walk.

But I’ve got plans for her first.

I don’t stop until she’s limp and gasping, eyes glassy, completely wrung out.

“Holy shit,” she manages after a long moment.

I withdraw my fingers slowly and bring them to my mouth, licking her taste off while holding her gaze. Sweet and addictive and mine for the next week.

She makes a wounded sound, like I’ve just committed some kind of crime.

“Fucking delicious,” I tell her, then lift her off my lap like she weighs nothing. “Come on.

Shower.”

“I can walk-”

“You really can’t.” I head toward the bathroom. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

The shower is all marble and steam. I set her down on the counter and start the water, adjusting it until it’s just shy of scalding.

Ember stares at her reflection in the mirror–flushed cheeks, wild hair, swollen lips–like she

< CHAPTER 8. PLAYING WITH FIRE

doesn’t recognize herself. She looks thoroughly fucked, and we’re just getting started.

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I strip off the rest of my clothes and her eyes track every movement, lingering on the scars across my chest, the muscle, the half–hard c**k that’s already aching to be inside her again.

When the room fills with steam, I pull her into the shower and pin her against the tile.

She gasps at the heat, then gasps again when I run my hands over every inch of her body. I soap her up slowly–shoulders, breasts, hips, ass–then slide my hand between her thighs to clean the mess I made.

She whimpers, oversensitive, trying to close her legs.

“Stay still,” I command, my fingers gentle despite my tone. “Let me take care of you.”

She does, trembling under my hands, and something in my chest tightens at how easily she submits. How much she trusts me despite barely knowing me. The things I’ve done.

I tilt her head back and wash her hair, fingers massaging her scalp until she melts against me with a soft sigh.

“Are you always like this?” she asks quietly.

“Like what?”

“Intense. Over the top.”

I consider lying, then decide she deserves the truth.

“With most people, no. With you, apparently yes.” I rinse the soap from her hair, thumb stroking the back of her neck. “You bring out something I can’t explain. I don’t like it.”

She opens her eyes and looks at me like she’s trying to solve a puzzle.

I kill the moment before it gets dangerous. “Come on.”

I scoop her up bridal–style and carry her out of the bathroom, ignoring her weak protests. She’s already half–asleep against my shoulder, completely spent, and we haven’t even gotten

to the main event yet.

My bedroom is all black and floor–to–ceiling windows showing the snow–covered mountains glowing blue in the moonlight. The bed is massive–king–size, sheets expensive enough to bankrupt a small pack.

I drop her onto the mattress and peel away the towel, leaving her completely exposed.

“Stay there.”

She does, breathing shallow, pupils blown wide as I crawl onto the bed.

CHAPTER 8, PLAYING WITH FIRE

Here’s where I should tell her what I’m actually planning. Give her a fighting chance.

Instead, I start at her feet and work my way up, mapping every inch of her with my hands and tongue and mouth.

I kiss the arch of her foot, suck and bite, the inside of her ankle, up her calf to behind her knee where I bite just hard enough to make her gasp.

CHAPTER 8: THE SE.X EXPERIMENT

KNOX’S POV

“Knox, what are you-”

“Quiet.” I move higher, kissing and biting up her inner thigh until she’s squirming. “I’m conducting an experiment.”

“What kind of experiment?”

I look up at her, my hands spreading her thighs wider. “Seeing how many times I can make you come before you beg me to stop.”

Her eyes go wide. “That’s not–you can’t-‘

“Watch me.”

I bury my face between her legs and go to work.

She tastes like heaven and bad decisions, and I devour her like I’ve been starving for months.

Which, honestly, I have been.

Every boring pack dinner watching her sit quietly beside Gale, I wanted this. Wanted her spread out and desperate and making those sweet sounds just for me.

“I’m yours,” she gasps. “For the next week, I’m yours.”

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