Page 18 of Wolfish Player (Steamy Latte Reads Collection #2)

THE AUTHOR

HEATHER

I cancel my gym membership. Between running laps across Grey Wolf’s floors and resistance training every time Adrian Wolfson opens his mouth, I don’t need it anymore.

I also don’t have the time.

But today, I’m wishing that I’d held onto my pass for a little while longer. I would kill to sit in the sauna for an hour or soak my feet in an ice bath.

My eyes are begging me to shut them for a few minutes, and since I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out, I head down to the reading nook floor.

The hammocks are occupied, and even the hard chairs are taken.

Sighing, I try the café, but there are no spaces there either.

Despite knowing that Mr. Wolfson would lose his shit if I took a break in his office, I can’t help taking the risk.

I unlock his door and walk over to his couch.

“Ahhhh…” I exhale as my back hits the soft cushions. I pull a blanket over my body and shut my eyes.

If he decides to fire me for this, at least I’ll be well-rested enough to curse him out one last time.

When I blink awake, he’s already there.

Towering over me, coffee in hand, brow arched like he’s been watching for far too long. He looks less like a boss and more like the grim reaper of naps.

“Are you having a good nap, Miss Barrett?” he asks.

“I was.” I hold back a groan and sit up.

“Where would you like me to be right now instead?” I ask.

“That’s a trick question.” He takes a slow sip from his mug. “If you’re that exhausted, you can lie back down.”

“Are you being serious or sarcastic?”

“The latter.” He sets his coffee on the table. “I’m curious why you didn’t just ask to go home to rest.”

“Because my boss would never allow it,” I say. “He thinks we’re all chasing billion-dollar checks and have a support staff like he does.”

“He would probably allow it once or twice.”

“Can you tape that to your desk as a reminder?”

“I’ll remember.”

“Okay, great.” I hate that he’s so close to me, that my body is suddenly full of energy and reacting to his presence.

“Can you go away now, then?” I ask. “I’d like to go home early but I can’t, so can you pretend like I’m away?”

He stares at me, a slight smirk on his lips. I feel my cheeks warming under his gaze, so I pull the covers over my face.

The edge of the couch dips and I feel him sitting at the end.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk in your sleep?” he asks.

“I’m not here, Mr. Wolfson.”

“You tend to say a lot of things that are quite inappropriate.”

“If you keep talking to me, I don’t want this to count as time taken off…”

He suddenly slides the heels off my feet, stunning me into silence as his palms press against my calves. The heat of his hands makes my head fall back against the couch before I can stop it, a low sound slipping from my throat.

“You really should be more careful about what you say when you’re asleep,” he murmurs, his thumbs digging harder into my muscles. “Something about how much you hate me… and how much you want me to fuck you anyway.”

My eyes snap open. “I did not say that. I was thinking about you ‘tasting’ me while going down on me, so that doesn’t make any sense.”

“I stand corrected,” he says. “That’s a better option anyway.”

My cheeks flame, and I suck in a gasp as I realize what I’ve admitted.

His smirk deepens as his hands move lower, his thumbs sweeping along my ankles, then sliding back up in slow, deliberate strokes. “You also begged me not to stop, you said you needed it.”

“ Lies .” My voice comes out higher than it should.

“You moaned when you said it.” He drags his hands higher, thumbs pressing just above my knees, holding me there a beat too long before pulling away. The loss of contact leaves my skin prickling.

“Is that what you really need?”

“That’s a really inappropriate question, Mr. Wolfson.”

“You can call me ‘Adrian’ for this…Is that what you need?”

“Maybe.”

“Yes or no?” He loosens his tie.

“Yes…”

He doesn’t wait for another word. His hands slide up the insides of my thighs, spreading me wide as he drops to his knees at the edge of the couch.

“Adrian—” I choke out, but my protest melts into a gasp as his mouth finds me through my panties, hot breath soaking straight through the fabric.

“Shut up and let me taste you,” he growls, yanking the lace aside.

His tongue drags a slow, torturous line up my slit, then plunges deep, and I buck so hard against his face that he pins my hips down with both hands. The sound is obscene—wet, greedy, unrestrained—like he’s starved for me, like he won’t stop until he’s devoured every part of me.

“ Fuck …” My hands claw at the couch cushions, then his hair, pulling him closer, but he doesn’t need encouragement. He eats me like he owns me, tongue circling, plunging, sucking my clit until my thighs shake uncontrollably.

“Don’t you dare close your legs,” he warns between licks, voice low and wicked. “You do, and I stop.”

I force myself open wider, gasping when he groans against me, like the taste of me is better than anything he’s ever had.

He slips two fingers inside me without warning, curling them at just the right spot while his tongue lashes harder. I cry out, helpless, grinding shamelessly against his mouth, the heat building so fast it’s unbearable.

“Yes… Adrian, don’t stop—please don’t stop?—”

“That’s what you begged for in your sleep,” he murmurs, lips brushing my swollen clit. “Beg louder.”

“Please—fuck—please!” My voice breaks as my body bows up off the couch.

And then I come undone.

The orgasm rips through me so violently I scream, trembling against his mouth as he keeps licking, keeps sucking, wringing every last wave out of me until I collapse in a boneless heap.

When I finally manage to breathe, he pulls back just enough to smirk up at me, lips glistening, eyes dark with hunger. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then runs his fingers through my hair, possessive and taunting.

“When was the last time you wrote on your book?”

“A couple weeks ago.” I’m still coming down. “I wrote two chapters.”

“Hm.” His gaze lingers on me, unreadable, before he finally stands.

“Do you feel better now, Miss Barrett?” His tone shifts as if his mouth wasn’t just on me.

I can only nod.

“Good.” He straightens his cuffs. “You can make up the time I spent massaging and tasting you by coming in three hours early tomorrow. You’re welcome.”