Jared
I open my mouth to argue but she lifts her chin at that stubborn angle I find so adorable.
Fuck.
My fingers curl up with frustration, but punching a wall isn’t going to help. Angelina’s pulled back, cutting me off. As she should.
I’m not part of her future. It’s wrong of me to try to insinuate myself into it. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her give up on her dream. To wither away and die under the expectations of prescribed perfection.
She kicks off her flip flops and heads into the kitchen.
I follow, unable to stay out of her business. She takes out lettuce and tomatoes, puts them in a bowl.
It may be exactly what she wants to eat right now, but the sight of it makes my wolf growl. She thinks she weighs too much to be a ballerina. She’s been starving herself to fit into some mold that I want to fucking destroy right now.
“Is that what you want to eat?” I ask, sounding grouchier than I mean to.
She whirls and puts her hands on her hips, one leg jutting out. “I can’t eat street tacos and beer with you every night, wolfie.” She slaps the sides of her hips. “Wouldn’t want to get a fat letter from the faculty.”
A real snarl comes out of my throat. I prowl closer. “Do you think you need to lose weight?” There’s danger in my tone, but she doesn’t recognize it. Or if she does, she’s ignoring it because she’s shutting me down.
“Five or ten pounds lighter would be ideal.”
I cage her against the counter.”No baby, you’re perfect.” Too perfect for me. Way outta my league. I grit my teeth. Fuck those dance professors. I better not ever meet them, because there’s no telling what my wolf would do to the people who made my girl cry.
I wish she could be my girl forever so I could protect her from the world. Maybe after we split, I’ll keep an eye on her. Have my wolf check on her. ‘Cause that’s not fucking pathetic.
But no, this girl doesn’t need protection. She just needs to get out from under the weight of other people’s expectation. To start living for herself.
“Fuck ideal. Do you think you need to lose weight?”
She’s holding her breath. Neither of us moves. My body is up against hers, but barely touching.
“No.” She sounds relieved when she says it. “If I did, I would’ve already lost it. I don’t want to look like a toothpick.”
“That’s my girl.” I lower my lips to her forehead and press them to her smooth skin.
“I’ll make the salad-or I’ll go buy us some fucking steak, if you want it.”
She laughs, the puff of air hitting my throat.
“I want you to make the list of what you need for the show. Not for me. For you. It will help you get clear on exactly what you need.”
“Oh, well-”
I step out of her way. “I mean right now, Angelina. Sketch it out. It’s important to take action on your dreams. Take this one small step right now.”
“Fine,” she says in that sassy way that gets me harder than stone.
Does she remember what I promised to do the next time she said it? But hell, I shouldn’t, not when-
She sneaks a guilty look, like she’s checking to see if I noticed.
Hunger hits me. My cock punches out, straining against my jeans.
Angelina laughs and darts past me.
Foolish, foolish girl.
Does she have any idea what happens when you goad a wolf into the chase? I catch her and swoop her up over my shoulder in about two seconds flat.
Her giggle tells me she wants this and fuck if that doesn’t release the dam on my self-control. I smack her upturned ass and jog into the bedroom. I drop her onto her feet and turn her to face the bed. I’m not ready to start spanking yet, though. I wrap one arm around her waist and cup her mons, rubbing the seam of her shorts into her slit.
She writhes, pushing back against me, her breath ragged.
I slow my movements. “You know what’s going to happen now?”
“You’re going to spank me?” She sounds breathless.
“That’s right, baby.” I unbutton her miniscule shorts and let them drop to the floor. Her tank top is easy to peel off. “Take off your bra and panties.” I like taking her clothes off, but I also enjoy making her bare herself for me. That way I know I’m not bulldozing her.
She looks over her shoulder at me-a redheaded coquette-and it’s all I can do to keep from shoving her over the bed, spreading her wide and pounding into that sweet pussy until she’s hoarse.
But no. I get to spank her first. A pleasure I will relish until the day I die.
“Panties off.” I make my voice firm. Or maybe that’s my need bleeding into my tone. Either way, she jumps to obey, hooking her thumbs in the waistband and slipping them down her legs.
I work to control my breath. The scent of her arousal fills the room and my hands have already found her bare skin, gripping her hips with authority. “Bend over, baby.”
She rests her hands on the bed.
“All the way over. And baby? When I’m disciplining you, answer me with respect.”
I know she has no clue what I’m talking about. I’m not even into BDSM, except that wolves are over the top dominant. But I’m dying to hear the words from her lips. “Say, yes, daddy.”
She lays her torso on the bed. “Yes, daddy.” Her voice wobbles, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s with need, judging by her scent.
I give her the lightest of slaps. I don’t want to scare her-not now, not ever.
She moans and waggles her ass.