His lips attached to mine as soon as we were out of the truck at the Pack House.
There was no hesitation this time, his hands wandered me like a sea captain searching for lost treasure. I wanted him, and he wanted me—there was no denying it anymore.
“Your room...” I pleaded breathlessly, not wanting to have sex in the open.
At least not for our first time.
His hands quickly trailed down over my rear end, and he hoisted me up my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me into the pack house, and up to his room. Nothing mattered in that moment, but him.
Step after step, my lips never left his.
I didn’t want gentle, compassionate sex. I wanted rough, raw aggression. The animalistic side of us that dominated who we were.
The darkness of his room enveloped us, and he tossed me upon the bed. I knew without hesitation that he was going to give me exactly what I wanted—what I desired.
