Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

I swear to God he was staring at my pulse.

All thoughts of cops and decency fled my head.

“Really,” I managed. “Touching is good too?—”

God, had my voice always gotten all pathetic and breathy like that when I was turned on?

“You sure you’re okay with this? I was um…Mmmm…” He licked his lips, his hips rubbing against mine in an entirely distracting way. It was unpracticed but enthusiastic. Like he wasn’t sure how to make this work, but sure as fuck wanted to. “Mmm, fuck.” My stranger ground down harder, and I couldn’t help the way my hips jolted up to meet him. “Shit, I can’t think when you do that.”

His eyes flashed again.

“I don’t want you to think.”

My dick was now fully hard, straining against my jeans as he fanned his large, molten hot hands along my hips and squeezed tight enough I was sure I’d bruise.

With a frown, Handsome seemed to decide the angle was not, in fact, good enough.

Because a second later, he yanked my pelvis up, easy as flipping a goddamn pancake. His tongue poked out of the corner of his lips as he concentrated, a needy rumble building in his chest as he grabbed one of my thighs, forced my legs wider, and lined our dicks up.

And that was…fuck yeah.

Fuck.

Handsome rutted me hard against him, like I was a fucking toy for his pleasure. Like I weighed nothing at all, not six-foot-something and two hundred plus pounds of muscled jock.

“No thinking,” Handsome moaned, sweat beading at his temple, his hips jerking into mine in an uncoordinated rhythm that made me feel half-drunk. “If you think, you might make me stop.”

“Not likely,” I could hardly get the words out, my earlier bravado gone as he fucked me through my clothes with my ass off the bench, his big hands clenched around my body. I should not have liked being manhandled like this. It was wrong. I shouldn’t. But I did. I really fucking did.

All my life I’d been the strong one.

I was supposed to be the one doing the manhandling, not the other way around.

So why did this feel so good?

Why did it feel like for the first time in my life I wasn’t pretending during sex?

I spared one last second to think about how bad of an idea this was—but ultimately—my dick decided for me. I may not have known what my limits were before we’d gotten into the truck, but now that we were here, I was finding I was a lot more flexible than I’d ever known. In more ways than one.

Because the truth was, while I’d never thought I’d have sex with a man, that wasn’t the shocking part of all of this. It was what he was that made all the difference. A wolf.

Lydia would’ve made me shoot him on sight.

And that, somehow, only made me more sure that I was making the right choice.

“Please let me taste you,” Handsome murmured for a second time. I wasn’t sure if he was asking my permission or not, so I figured I’d just give it to him anyway.

“Yes.”

He licked his lips, our cocks aligned, the hard length of him rub, rub, rubbing against mine. His was larger than mine, even through denim, a frankly monstrous dick rutting against my own. I tracked the movement of his tongue before my gaze snapped to the heave of his pecs as he took a shuddering breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and groaned. Almost like he was holding back. Like he had to center himself. Like there was something about the way I was looking at him that was really fucking doing it for him.

Or…like he’d just come.

My eyes widened.

Wait.

Fuck.