Wild Hunger
She lifted her chin. "No."
His eyes narrowed. "All right."
Unease pricked at her. Trick generally wasn't the type to back down when he wanted something, especially during sex. His mouth took hers again, tongue sinking inside and exploring every crevice as he backed her against the tiled wall. He raised one of her arms, and she felt something wrap around her wrist. He did the same thing with the other, and then her foggy brain remembered . . . suction cup restraints.
Well, fuck. She'd noticed them before. He'd taunted her that he'd use them one day, when she was least expecting it. Well, she sure hadn't seen it coming just now.
Trick hummed in satisfaction at the perfect picture she made right then. "Cuffed, helpless, and mine to play with."
The "helpless" part both pricked at her pride and fueled her need. Frankie might have fought him, if only for the fun of it, but she sensed that he needed this. Needed to lose himself in what they had. Needed the control that he'd no doubt shed tonight while he did what he had to do. So rather than fighting him, she remained still. And that earned her a lazy, lopsided grin.
Trick trailed his fingers down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, down to her stomach. "You look so fucking hot right now, Frankie." His cock was full and heavy, throbbing like a bitch. "My Frankie."
He kept his touch featherlight as he grazed his fingers over the plump lips of her pussy. He slipped his finger between her folds just enough to skim over her clit. Her hips jerked toward him, and he smiled. His mate had the most sensitive clit he'd ever come across in his life, and he loved to tease her endlessly. Loved pushing her as far as she could go. Which was why he said, "I think I'll come back to that later."
Ignoring her harsh curse, he closed his hands around her breasts and squeezed. "I fucking love your tits." He pushed them together as he licked from one nipple to the other. He sucked and licked and raked them with his teeth. With a choked moan, she arched into him as much as her restraints would allow. He thrust a finger into her hot little pussy and groaned. She was already wet, but . . . "I want you dripping for me." He scooped out some of the slickness and spread it over her clit. "Is this what you want?"
"You know it is." Frankie gasped as he caught her clit between two fingers and squeezed just a little. He slid his fingers forward and backward, rubbing both sides of her clit with each glide. Oh God. She hooked one leg over his hip to lock him in place as the tension built inside her. Every part of her ached for him. Responded to him. Craved him.
"Frankie, give me your throat."
She hissed. "Why do you want it so bad?"
"I need to know you'll give me anything. Everything." He sank his finger back into her pussy, scooped out more lube, and smeared it all over her clit. "There's only one thing I wouldn't do for you, Frankie—and that's let you go. I'll never give you freedom. But anything else? It's yours." He circled, rubbed, and pinched her clit. "Give me what I want."
Frankie squeezed her eyes shut. Even while she was out of her mind with need, her pride balked at his request. But the heart that he'd won and now totally owned wanted to give him whatever he needed. And the heart won out over her pride.
A growl rumbled out of Trick as she tipped her head back, giving him her throat. Like that, his control evaporated like mist. He tore open the Velcro cuffs to free her hands. "Hold on." He lifted her high and roughly dropped her on his cock. Her breath seemed to gust out of her lungs, but her pussy rippled around him. And he knew neither of them would last long.
He braced his hands against the wall, keeping his arms straight. "Ride me."
Frankie locked her legs around him as she gripped his shoulders and rode his cock like their survival depended on it. All the while, his mouth drove her insane—sucking on her neck, biting her earlobe, teasing her claiming bite, and whispering some seriously dirty fantasies down her ear.
"Come on, Frankie, fuck me." He slipped one wet finger inside the bud of her ass, and her pace faltered. "I didn't tell you to stop. Move." She resumed rising and falling, so that she was fucking both his cock and his finger. "Harder, Frankie, make yourself come."
And then it happened. White-hot pleasure blasted through Frankie like a hot wind, trapping a scream in her throat and making her pussy ripple around the cock that throbbed deep inside her. Just as it distantly occurred to her that he hadn't come, he lifted her off his cock and pushed on her shoulder.
"Get on your knees, Frankie," Trick growled. A little dazed, she did as she was told. "That's it. Open your mouth." The moment she parted those lips, he thrust inside. He wasn't careful or gentle. He gripped her hair as he fucked her mouth, frantically punching his hips. Then his release barreled into him and he exploded, blowing his load right down her throat.
He closed his eyes as it all drained out of him—the anger, the frustration, the thirst for vengeance. Slipping his hands under her arms, Trick pulled her to her feet. He held her to him, burying his face in her neck, rocking her loose body from side to side. "You always do that."
"What?" she slurred, weakly stroking his back.
"Bring me peace." He pressed a lingering kiss to her hair. "Missed you." Those few hours without her had felt a hell of a lot longer. Maybe because, for a while, he hadn't been himself.
"It was no fun going to bed without you. Let's not do that often."
He smiled. "Agreed." He breathed her in. His heart stuttered. "Our scents have mixed."
Frankie's nostrils flared, and she grinned. "That means the bond is strengthening, right?"
"Right. And now everyone will now you're mine just by your scent."
"I'd roll my eyes if I didn't get the same satisfaction from that idea." After they'd both washed their hair and rinsed away the suds, they stepped out of the shower and dried off. It wasn't until they were in bed—him on his back, her nestled against his side—that she spoke again. "I don't want to put a downer on the mood, and I know you'd rather not talk about it, but I'd like to know whether Drake—"
"He can never hurt you again."
Meaning he was dead, she thought. "Then what's troubling you?" She'd have expected him to feel better now that he'd had his vengeance. "You feel bad for killing him?"
"Fuck no." Sighing, Trick skimmed his fingers up and down her back. "He said that Morelli sent him to kidnap you." He relayed everything Drake had told him.
Frankie traced the lines and dips of his abs as she spoke. "He could be telling the truth. I mean, extremists have tried to provoke our kind into starting a war, but we formed The Movement instead. If they want the war bad enough, they need to try something else. And it would be smart to try to recruit a shifter they can work with. Not that I believe they wouldn't actually kill Morelli. He might not even believe that they'd let him live. They might simply be content on using each other."
"If he was telling the truth, Morelli planned to serve us to the extremists on a silver fucking platter." His wolf peeled back his upper lip.
"I'd say it's time for Trey to have a talk with him."