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Bleary eyed, Cullen sat behind his desk, cradling his mug of dark roast coffee. He probably should have spent the night in Kenai, especially after indulging his need for a wet pussy after finishing with the blonde. But as he’d readied to leave, his cock had begun to lengthen and harden at the smell of ripe pussy that permeated the bar where he’d gone to have a second cigar and cup of coffee before heading home.
He sniffed the air and made the mistake of glancing around the room like the hungry wolf he was—his eye settling on the strawberry blonde, who stared back with open longing and lust. She didn’t look away like most of the submissives and she wasn’t dressed in black, white or red. Instead, she was in a paisley brocade corset in deep greens and blues and a dark blue thong that barely covered anything.
In other lifestyle clubs she might have been a Domme, but here all the dominants were male and all the submissives were female. Cullen had told himself he didn’t care, but he did. It made things so much easier when everybody knew their place. Her eyes had widened as she set her sights on him and began to walk towards him. He’d told himself to get up, leave, get to the airport, and fly home, but damn, she was hot.
“May I, Sir?” she asked demurely.
She sat when he nodded. “You may, but only if you know I’ve got…” he’d glanced at his watch, “about an hour at most.”
“Then might I suggest we find a place that suits you and get to it?”
He laughed. She was a bold little baggage. “And if I say right here; right now?”
“I would only ask: knees or back?”
Cullen helped her off his lap and slung her over his broad shoulder. “I won’t be gentle. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes, Sir,” she purred.
“Jules, is the room I had still free?”
The resident Dom smiled. “It is, Cullen. What is it about you?”
“It’s my big dick.”
Listening to everyone within earshot laughing, he headed back to the room where he’d tossed the woman face-down onto the bed, ripping her thong from her. “I’ll pay for it.”
“No need. It’s kind of a badge of honor around here to have Cullen Manchester rip something off a woman. Even at your harshest, you’re no sadist and always make sure your partner gets what she needs.”
“Good enough,” he said, stepping behind her, placing his hand on the nape of her neck and pressing down as he opened his fly with the other hand and then grasped her hip.
Cullen stepped between her legs, spreading them wide before allowing his cock to zero in on its target like a heat-seeking missile. He shoved in with a single push and groaned at the way her pussy had clamped down on him.
The hand on her neck moved to grip the top of her shoulder as his other hand tightened his hold on her hip, pulled her into position, and held her there. There was no gentle probing, no soft entry into her wet heat—he just sank to her depth in one long, powerful pass and groaned. The girl was even more primed than he’d thought, as his powerful possession of her wet pussy caused her to climax with a scream of intense pleasure.
Cullen’s thrusts were strong, true, and confident. He knew how to please a woman. Her sheath had trembled along his length as he’d pounded into her. He sent her over the edge a second time, causing her to cry out and her body to shake with the intensity of her orgasm. She gripped the bedclothes with tightly closed fists.
“God, you feel good,” he groaned as he continued to stroke in and out of her.
Her body shuddered as it began to ramp back up, coming online in renewed answer to his need, submitting to him completely. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, and she moaned as she writhed in his grip.
Cullen held her steady as he hammered her pussy, his size filling her completely, dominating her and driving her again into a spiral of pleasure she couldn’t escape. As she came a third time, he gave one last, deep, harsh thrust and then released her shoulder so he could grasp both hips as he ground against her, emptying himself for the second time that afternoon. Her pussy spasmed rhythmically, greedily milking his cock for every last drop of his cum as he savored his release.
There was a knock on the door and his beta, Shaw, came in without waiting for Cullen’s permission. Cullen normally didn’t stand on ceremony, but he was in a beastly mood. There was no real reason for it as he’d had his needs seen to the day before and he’d only had a single beer—so no hangover.
“Did it ever occur to you to wait for my permission to enter?” he growled low.
“Do you actually feel as bad as you look or are you just wanting to swing your big alpha dick around?” Shaw asked in a conversational tone of voice, making Cullen glare at him from over the rim of his coffee mug.
Shaw had been his best friend from the time they were children. He’d known he could never beat Cullen in a fight and that Cullen would most likely lead the Ghost Moon Pack. There had been no question in anyone’s mind that it would be Shaw who stood as beta when Cullen was chosen to lead.
Before Cullen could bite his head off, his cell phone rang. “Shit,” said Cullen, glancing at the caller ID. It was Colby Reynolds. The last thing he fucking needed was the smarmy lynx-shifter and his schemes. “What?” he growled.
“Considering the glowing reports I got from Janey, I would have expected you to be in a better mood.”
“Who the fuck is Janey?” snarled Cullen.
“The pretty strawberry blonde you tossed on a bed and had your way with.”
