Page 11 of If The Shoe Fits (A Howlin’ Good Fairytale Retelling #2)
chapter ten
H is words hang in the air.
A promise.
A challenge.
And a declaration all rolled into one.
And me? I’m just remain there, trying to remember the basics of breathing. You know, inhale, exhale, that sort of thing.
But it’s hard— really hard —when Wulfy groans, flexes his hips, and rubs his delicious hardness over the curve of my ass.
Hubba hubba.
“Okay,” I manage, my voice shaking as I fight to keep things professional despite the fact that my insides are doing the cha-cha.
“I believe that you believe what you’re saying. But just so you know, I won’t blame you when you change your mind.”
His glowing golden eyes narrow, but before he can argue, I steamroll ahead.
“Anyway, I hope it goes without saying—but just to set the record straight—I have not picked on your daughter. Cyndi is a…” I pause, searching for the right word, but his indulgent smile stops me short.
“She’s a handful,” he supplies, his tone softening.
And then I see it.
A flicker of something in his expression—recognition, maybe even a touch of embarrassment. His handsome face turns ruddy, and despite everything, compassion rises inside me like the tide.
“I’ve been letting her run roughshod over me since she was a toddler,” he admits, raking a hand through his thick, dark hair. “But that’s my fault. If I’ve been lax in my fatherly duties, it’s only because I’m a softy when it comes to my only child.”
Oh, great.
Just what I needed—another reason to find this man insufferably attractive.
A doting dad who knows his faults? Someone get me a fan and some ice water because I might just faint.
There go my ovaries. Lighting up like the fourth of July.
“I completely understand,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I don’t have children of my own, but I feel protective of my students, too. Cyndi is bright, and she has wonderful charisma. I just wish she’d use it to help the shyer kids. I mean, Wulfy, your daughter has leadership potential written all over her.”
His lips quirk up into a soft smile. “That she does. And I am sorry if she’s been causing trouble, and I will investigate. But Dora,” he says, his voice dropping an octave, “I won’t change my mind. Not about us.”
Before I can argue, he dips his head and presses a soft, lingering kiss to my temple.
“Wulfy,” I whimper, my resolve crumbling under the weight of his tenderness.
“Enough talk of kids,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly deeper now, rich and velvety like melted chocolate. “I’m concerned with something else right now.”
His arms tighten around me, and suddenly, I’m half sprawled across his impossibly broad chest.
The heat wafting off him is intoxicating, seeping into my bones and warming me to the marrow. And his scent— Goddess, his scent.
It’s that blasted snickerdoodle cookies and cinnamon, and I’m about five seconds away from either devouring him or demanding he bake me something.
“You smell like dessert,” I mutter, half delirious, my head falling against his shoulder.
His low chuckle rumbles through me like a purr. “And you, Sweet Witch, smell like trouble.”
I open my mouth to retort, but before I can get a word out, his lips find the curve of my jaw, trailing soft kisses that send lightning bolts shooting through my veins.
Oh, boy. He’s right. I am in so much trouble.
“Isn’t it better when we get along?” he asks, rubbing his big hands up and down my back, over my butt till he’s gripping my thick thighs, positioning me just right.
“Yeah. Um, but you said something. I mean, what else are you concerned with?” I ask, trying for a business-like tone I sure as shenanigans don’t feel.
“This,” he murmurs.
Next thing I know, Wulfy is holding me in place with one heavy hand on the back of my neck while he crushes his lips to mine.
Every thought I have goes flying right out of my brain as if it never existed.
I become a thing of instinct. Pure passion and lust roar through my veins as I fuse my mouth to his and kiss him back for all I’m worth.
It feels so good.
So right.
But no. This is wrong. I mean, he doesn’t really— oh hell, that feels good.
You have to stop this, Dora.
Oh, shut up , I tell my inner voice.
I turn myself completely, opening my legs, so I am sitting astride the big, sexy Werewolf.
He is so deliciously hard for me, and I can’t help it. I rock my body against his, loving how he feels.
“That’s it, Sweet Witch. Use me. Show me what you need to feel good,” he growls into my mouth.
His delectable tongue swirls around mine, and it’s been so long since I felt anything even remotely close to this, I don’t push him away like I should.
Nope.
Instead, I hold on tight.
Magic might rule my life, and sure, I teach ethics and morals.
But what’s so immoral about chasing my passion?
“You taste divine, my Dora,” he murmurs, nipping my bottom lip with his.
His mouth ghosted over mine, making me quiver and ache for him in my most secret naughty places.
For some reason, I truly believe this Wolf has exactly what I need.
“Damn straight, I do. I am the only one who does,” he grunts, lifting my skirt to toy with the edges of my soaked-through panties.
“Oh, that feels good,” I moan as his fingers snake beneath them.
He licks into my mouth with his dexterous tongue and strokes my slick sex with his fingers.
I pant and whimper, wanting him closer.
“Anything you want,” he growls.
Clothing gets moved aside.
“Wait,” I whisper, and I know I am going to hate myself for stopping him.
So why bother?
“I know you want it, Sweet Witch. Tell me you want me. Say yes,”
He’s right.
I do want it.
I want him.
“Yes. I want you,” I say, going for broke.
I might regret this tomorrow.
But I know it will be worse if I walk away.
Sure, I’ll lose a piece of myself I can’t afford to lose.
But sometimes a Witch has to take a chance.
I’ll risk it for this.
For him.
“Do it. Risk it for us, Sweet Witch. Pick me,” he begs.
The expression in his golden eyes is achingly tender. His large, callused hands brush back a lock of my hair. I swear his scent seems to increase.
Like it’s more concentrated, and it is all I can do not to resort to licking the cinnamon sugar sweetness right off his skin.
“My Dora. You’re mine now. All mine. Now, let me make you feel good,” he growls, and his devilish grin is nearly my undoing.
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I am about half a second to believing him.
Sure, that way lies madness.
But I push all negativity out of my mind, and I open my mouth, sucking on his tongue.
With nothing barring his entrance now, all it takes is the slide of his zipper, and the shift of my hips.
Then he’s right there. Huge and hard.
His thick mushroomed tip is leaking with need. I gasp and clutch at his shoulders.
He is so close to where I need him. But still too far.
Then Wulfy growls as he grips the base of his dick and presses it inside, splitting me open.
Having sex with the boss is not why I came in here today.
Losing my mind over the sexy as sin Werewolf is surely not a good idea.
But I can’t stop.
I can’t deny this anymore than I can stop the phases of the moon or the turning tide.
But even though I’m a slave to my passions, I won’t let him mate me. I can’t.
“Stop!” I shout and he freezes, both of us are breathing like marathon runners.
“What? Am I hurting you?”
“No! No, but we need rules.”
“Rules? Like what, Sweet Witch,” he growls and flexes, pressing the base of his cock firmly against my clit.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
“I can make it better.”
“Stop distracting me. Back to the rules. Just fucking. No biting. Got it?” I tell him as he begins to move.
“Oh, I’m fucking you. I’m fucking you until you can’t remember your own name, my Sweet. But fine. I agree. No biting yet . But soon, my Sweet Witch. Soon.”
Then neither of us is capable of speech. His body is perfect. The curves of his muscles move against my soft body as he strokes into me just right. All I feel is heat, impossible heat. It encompasses me. Makes me feel beautiful, cherished, sexy.
“You are my Dora. My sweet. Mine,” he growls, moving faster, harder, and sliding deeper.
Stars explode behind my eyes as I fly higher than I ever thought possible.