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“I don’t know. Are you familiar with these wolves?”
“Oh, I know them. That pack has been in these woods longer than any human.”
“And no one’s ever been eaten?”
“Never.” He sounds amused. Like me being afraid of wolves is a cute quirk of mine and not a legit danger. “It sounds to me like the wolf was trying to comfort you. Have you ever had a dog come and sit against your leg? It’s a sign of solidarity.”
I wrinkle my brow and give him a quick glance. “I don’t think so.” Now I’m not so sure. Was the wolf really going to attack me? Maybe I was confused.
Brick pinches my nipple and flips me onto my back. I’m instantly wet. Totally ready. “You don’t have to be afraid of the big, bad wolf.” He straddles my waist and pins my wrists to the bed as he nips the soft side of my breast.
I gasp and arch into him. “Just the Big, Bad Boss?”
“Definitely him.” He swirls his tongue around my nipple.
I grip his head, running my fingers through his hair. “Am I still in trouble?”
“So much.” His voice is gravelly with lust. “I’m going to fuck you into submission, Windows.”
I arch. “Won’t happen,” I choke, but my hips roll beneath him, seeking firm contact.
“The submission or the fucking?”
I spread my legs, and our hips line up. “Submission.”
* * *
I wake up on the edge of an orgasm. This time there’s no confusion. I’m not in bed with Brick Blackthroat in the Berkshires because I left there Thanksgiving night.
I’m horny, alone, and in my childhood bedroom at my mom’s place.
Apparently the dream within a dream was my subconscious working overtime to process what happened over Thanksgiving.
I’m sure part of the problem was the way I left.
After Thanksgiving dinner, I was expecting–or maybe just hoping for–another round with the Big Bad Boss. Instead, he disappeared outside with his buddies, and then Billy showed up to tell me that the weather had cleared, and John had readied the helicopter.
That was it. No closure. No goodbye. I just get hustled out to the helipad by the guy who seems to despise me, and then I’m back in the city in time for pumpkin pie with my mom and brother.
Apparently, as soon as the storm cleared, it was time for “the help” to leave.
I haven’t heard a word from Brick–or maybe I should go back to thinking of him as Blackthroat–since.
I really need to talk to Aubrey. We’ve texted, but I need a full convo with the bestie. I pick up my phone and call.
“Oh my God, girl, tell me everything!” That’s how she answers. Because my short texts–I didn’t quit and Slept with the boss–were not nearly enough information. She and her mom are in New Jersey with her aunt and uncle for the holiday.
“Ugh. I don’t know where to start.”
Aubrey instantly sobers. “Wait, I thought things were good. What happened?”
Tears sting the back of my eyes. “They were good.” The memory of Brick spooning me to warm my body, apologizing, and the mad, crazy sex flood my brain with remembered pleasure. But then there was getting sent home without so much as a goodbye. “So I texted you about me getting lost in the storm and the sexy times.”
“Right.”
“And then I stayed for Thanksgiving dinner, which was weird and awkward, but not because of me–at least I don’t think. Because Brick and his mom don’t get along, and his sister invited her. Supposedly he was a dick to me partly because he didn’t want me to see his fucked up family.”
“Oh, wow.”
