"Y-yes." Panting, I reach down and yank the gusset of my panties aside for him.
Garrett groans. "Oh yeah, baby. That's it. Offer that sweet little pussy to me."
His digits are huge. They glide over my slit, which is embarrassingly wet. I tip my pelvis down to meet his touch, urge him on. He works his middle finger inside me.
It's been forever since I've had sex, and I'm sure it shows because I'm almost orgasming the second his digit pumps inside me. I don't recognize the sounds coming from my throat.
Garrett adds a second finger, stretching me.
I throw my head back on his shoulder, crying out with pleasure.
He thrusts them in and out, uses the heel of his hand against my clit until I'm nearly weeping with desire. When he abruptly pulls them out, my pussy clutches on emptiness. He delivers a sharp slap, right between my legs. "Naughty girl," he growls in my ear.
My hips jack up.
He spanks my pussy again. A third time. Then, like he knows I'm about to blow, he shoves two fingers inside me and fucks me hard and rough, not holding back, delivering the intensity and speed I need to crest the peak.
I shriek and throw my head back on his shoulder, digging my nails into his forearms as I ride his digits, my hips bucking, pussy clenching, toes curling. My orgasm goes on and on while Garrett holds his fingers wedged inside me and I come all over them.
God help me. I've never lost control like that. Never allowed anyone to give me so much pleasure or to see me out of my mind.
He eases them out as I coast down the other side, my body going limp against his. His lips find my shoulder and he smooths my panties back in place. "That's it, naughty girl," he murmurs in my ear, then rearranges me to face him once more.
He brushes a strand of hair back from my face. "My naughty little human." He emphasizes the last word, looking me in the eye, and it all comes rushing back. He's a werewolf, and he knows I know.
I tense. What's he going to do?
But werewolves don't exist. I must have been off my rocker. "I'm not crazy," I blurt.
His stern look softens a fraction. "I never said you were."
"Are you... you're not-"
He arches a brow. "Not what?"
"Werewolves don't exist," I repeat my assertion from earlier, but my gaze falls to his tattooed knuckles. The phases of the moon.
Oh God. He's definitely a werewolf.
I try to bolt again, but he holds me easily, his arm like a steel band around my waist.
"Wh-" I clear my throat. "What are you going to do with me?"
"I don't know. First I need you to answer some questions for me." He sounds serious now.
"Like what?"
He shifts me to the side. Taking my hands, he turns them over, examining my arms. "Are you hurt at all, baby?"
Biting back tears, I shake my head. There he goes, taking care of me again.
"Good." He lifts me from his knee and sits me on the coffee table in front of him, holding both my hands in one of his big paws. The intensity of his gaze makes me blush again. At last, he asks, "How did you know?"
I try to jerk my hands free, but he holds me fast, adding his other hand almost like he's comforting me, rather than holding me captive. I pull harder.
"Hey," he says. "Settle down. I'm not going to hurt you, but I do need you to answer me."
"There is no answer," I rasp. I don't talk about my visions, ever. Last time I did, I was thirteen, and it cost me my foster home. I learned quickly that people don't like having their secrets spilled for them. I don't know how I let my knowing slip this time.
Garrett just waits, holding me without effort, saying nothing.
I slump. He's not going to let me go until I tell him. "Sometimes I just know things," I mumble. "I see them, like fast-forward pictures."
"What do you mean?"
I stare at a hole in his jeans, wishing I had just stayed at Foxfire's place. Sent a moving company to get my stuff, found a way to avoid Garrett for the rest of my life.
But I didn't. Because, deep down, I wanted to see him. Needed to know if the vision was true.
"Amber?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I really don't. Sometimes I see stuff I wish I hadn't. Like dead people or the future-usually something bad, like accidents or deaths." I remember asking my foster mom why the two buildings in New York caught fire and fell-two months before the 9/11 attacks. That family returned me in a hurry after it came true. "I don't do it on purpose. I hate it, actually."
"You're psychic."
I jerk my hand out of his and swipe at my face. My hair's fallen out of my updo. I probably look a mess. Crazy Amber, the psychic. All I need is to carry a deck of Tarot cards, wear flowy skirts, and cover my apartment with crystals. Oh, and burn incense. Then I can hang up a shingle and tell fortunes.
Garrett's watching me, stone cold serious. I swallow hard. I know he's a werewolf. Probably something he doesn't want getting out.
My fear from earlier returns: I might die tonight. But no, if he wanted me to die, he would've let me fall off the balcony. Unless he needed to question me first.
"Did you tell your friend?"
Right. This is what he needed to know. "Foxfire? No. She passed out on the way home."
"Are you going to tell her?"
"No." My voice cracks. "No way. I'm not going to tell anyone. I don't need people thinking I'm crazy." Knowing I'm crazy.
"Are you just saying what I want to hear?"
"Do I seem like the sort of woman to blow smoke up your butt?"
He grins, a devastating smile that makes my insides quiver. "You did say you're an attorney." But he releases my hands, dropping his huge palms onto my knees. I stare at the tattooed knuckles, the large fingers caressing me. I never knew legs could be so erotic. I'm still dizzy from my last orgasm, but I wouldn't be opposed to round two.
"Would you give me your word?"
I nod once then several more times. Is that really all he wants? A promise I won't talk?
He squeezes my knees. "Thank you. Listen, I don't want to threaten you... but wolves don't like humans to know about us."
"Well, I didn't exactly ask to know."
He crooks that smile at me again, making my limbs turn liquid. "I know that, Amber. I just want you to understand that you and I are going to have big problems if you talk."
"You'll spank me again?" Damn, I was supposed to sound annoyed, not breathy and fluttery. As if I want to be bare-assed over his lap again. Oh wait. I totally do.
"Did you like your spanking, Amber?" His voice rumbles, deep and seductive.
"No." I want to stand up, but he's leaning forward, rough palms on my thighs, and I would have to push him away. Touching him would be dangerous.
"I think you did." Sexy wrinkles appear in the corner of his eyes. He's laughing at me.
"If I told someone you were a werewolf, what would you do to me?" I ask, mostly to kill the mood.
His blue eyes turn to ice chips. His hands squeeze my knees, and I wonder that I ever thought his touch sexy. My body freezes, as I stare down a predator.
"You don't want to know," he rumbles, totally serious. The threat in his eye effectively kills the sexy mood.
"All right, then." I find my voice somehow. "I don't need to know. I won't tell anyone, on the pain of death." I try to say that last part like it's a little joke but fumble it. My stomach feels like a bottomless pit.
His big body relaxes. After a moment, so does mine.
"Good girl," he says.
A sigh escapes me, so big it rattles my bones.
"Come here," he murmurs, and gathers me in his arms. I stay stiff, stunned, before melting against him.
"I'm sorry if I scared you tonight." His voice reverberates in his big chest. His hand soothes up and down my back. It feels so damn good.
"Oh, I wasn't scared. I normally climb down from my balcony at two in the morning."
His chuckle warms me. "I really like you, Amber." He stands and sets me on my feet, as if he hasn't turned my world upside down. "I hope we have an understanding?"
"Yeah. My lips are sealed."
"Good girl."
Fuck. Those words.
I raise my chin. "I'm reserving the right to sue you for assault and battery."
He grins again. A toothy, wolfish grin that makes my pussy clench. He reaches down and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I would apologize," he purrs. "Except I'm not sorry at all. I enjoyed seeing that gorgeous little ass of yours. And those panties-" He makes a satisfied, growly sound. Yep, another clench. "Come on, baby. It's late, and you should get some rest." He leads me out, a palm on my back. I thought he might just close his door behind me, but he escorts me to my apartment like a gentleman. We stand in front of the door a second before I remember.
"Crap. It's locked."
"I'll get it. I'm good with locks."
He disappears back into his apartment and re-emerges with a wrench and another small tool.
"You're going to pick my lock?"
"It's a good skill to have, not that I use it much. I'm more of a huff and puff and blow your door down kinda guy."
A half-hysterical laugh bubbles out of my throat. "You don't keep a master key to all the apartments? Wouldn't that be easier?"
"This is more fun. Wanna learn how? I'll teach you. It's actually pretty easy. Come on," he says when I hesitate. "Unless the princess is too good to get her hands dirty."
"No," I scoff.
"This is what happens when you hang with a bad boy." He winks, and gives me the wrench.
He talks me through breaking and entering while slouching against the wall. "Okay, so the tension wrench goes into the bottom of the key hole. No-" His large hand swallows mine, and I jerk.