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I like giving messy blowjobs. And I love the way Carson’s looking down at me right now.

“Did you win?” I whisper so his friends can’t hear me.

“Yeah,” he pants. “I fucking did.” Carson grips my arms and helps me crawl out from under his desk.

“What’s your score?” Wait. All the monitors have been turned off. “I thought you—”

Carson smashes his mouth to mine and lifts me off the ground. “That was naughty of you.”

“You mean that was very giving of me.” I yelp when he drops me on the couch. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be playing your game!”

“I’d rather play yours, little vixen.” He snatches the book I’d discarded and hands it to me. “Start reading.”

Confusion makes me silent. But then he drops down by my feet and spreads my legs. “Start. Reading. Out loud.”

While I try to mutter out the first sentence, Carson descends on my pussy and puts his trash-talking mouth to good use. That double-dicked billionaire werewolf is nothing compared to my man.

With Carson’s devious tongue fucking me, I don’t even get through the first page.

Chapter 19

Carson

It’s been a week since Mak left my house. I still can’t stop thinking about her. We’ve texted a bit, but she hasn’t come over again, and I’ve yet to visit her place. The tension growing in my chest hurts like a bitch. I can’t get her out of my mind.

It’s unsettling.

I’m not a fan of attachments. I’m not into instalove or even instalust. I need a lot of things working together in just the right way for it to speak a language I’ll respond to. That probably sounds high maintenance, but I’ve never claimed to be perfect. I’m nowhere close to it.

Mak didn’t spend the night after I made her come three times on my tongue while she tried to groan, grind, and grunt through one page of that smut book. I wanted her to stay, but she declined. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from begging her. Mak was being smarter than I was by leaving when she did.

Only now I can’t concentrate on shit.

I’ve got a convention coming up, two art shows to attend, and I’m still waiting to hear back about a contest I submitted to. Not to mention thousands of boudoir photos to sift through and edit. Plus, I have a book signing to plan for where I’ll be taking photos of authors doing their thing and now I need to make sure I can schedule time with some of the cover models joining them. Every opportunity that comes my way, I take when it’s career driven.

I also have three back-to-back sessions today at the studio.

My life is busy enough without adding pining over a woman to my to do list.

Speaking of photos, I never did show Mak hers. I keep thinking I can use it as a tactic to bring her back to my house again, but why bother? I don’t need an excuse. I can ask her to come over and she either will or she won’t. The files will be emailed to her regardless. I just haven’t done it yet.

Why am I floundering?

Damnit, this woman is fucking me up.

“Hey boss, you want a coffee?”

I look up at Chloe and sigh. “Yeah. Get me whatever is strongest. I don’t even care if it tastes good or not.” I’m dog tired because I haven’t slept in days and no amount of jerking off, lifting weights, or tv will ease my anxiety. Might as well feed the demon some caffeine to make it worse.

I’ve got about an hour before my next client comes in. I should be setting up for it. Instead, I pull out my cell and scroll through my contacts to find the one I haven’t called since my last downward spiral.

They pick up on the second ring. “Hey, man. It’s been a long fucking time.”

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s been crazy busy. How are things going for you?”

“Good as it gets.” There’s silence for a moment. “What’s up? You and I both know you didn’t call without a good reason.”

My ass drops onto the bed I should be remaking. “I think I fucked up.”