Harley swore. “You’re a total asshole.”
He prowled toward her. “You sank the white ball, baby. You know what that means.” They’d agreed beforehand that if either of them did that or pocketed each other’s ball, a little sexual punishment would follow. Crowding her against the table, he put both their cue sticks aside and then sat her on the edge of the table. Standing between her thighs, he said, “Remember: you can’t come . . . unless you want to lose the entire game.”
Harley gasped as he bit her nipple right through the lace. “Remember: you only have two minutes.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll make them count.” He tugged down the babydoll, propping up her breasts, and latched on tight to a nipple. Knowing what she liked, he sucked and licked and grazed the hard bud with his teeth. The scent of her need rose and flooded his lungs, making his cock jerk. Her hands sifted in his hair, claws scraping his scalp—he fucking loved that.
As a hand delved under her babydoll and cupped her, Harley bit her lip. Her thong went with a snap, and then his finger skimmed through her slick folds. Feeling his hot mouth on her nipple, his finger teasing her folds, and the heel of his hand brushing over her clit . . . It was too much. Her pussy quivered, but she fought the orgasm that began to build.
“Come, baby,” he rumbled. “You know you want to.”
“Not gonna happen,” she rasped. Glancing at the wall clock, she smiled. “Two minutes are up.”
“You’re right,” he said, biting her nipple one last time before stepping back. Jesse sucked his finger clean, groaning. He wanted more of that taste on his tongue. Not yet.
Thighs trembling, Harley slid off the table. Her pussy throbbed and burned. Why the hell had she agreed to this? Because he’d wanted to play, which was a super rare thing for her mate. Jesse was a very serious wolf. Not in the sense that he didn’t smile or find amusement in things. It was that he had such a serious approach to life that, unlike other wolves, he didn’t play or joke much. Still . . . “Your rules are cruel.”
Jesse chuckled. “My wolf’s pissed at me too. He wants to watch you come and hear you scream. That’ll come later.”
“Cocky motherfucker.”
“Always so cranky when you’re horny.” He grabbed his cue stick. “My turn again.”
Harley knew exactly how to wipe that smug look off his face. As he sent another ball rolling into a pocket, she grabbed one of the dining chairs and turned it to face him. “My legs are a little shaky.” Sinking into the chair, she kept her legs open, giving him a very nice view of what she knew he wanted.
Jesse swallowed. “You truly are a little bitch.” He prepared to take his next shot, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from her swollen, glistening pussy. His mouth watered. Fisting his painfully hard cock, he gave himself a quick stroke.
“I’m sorry, am I distracting you again?” she asked sweetly. Then she closed her legs.
Jesse growled. “Open them.” That pussy was his. His to look at and taste and sink into whenever he wanted. “Do it, Harley. Show me what’s mine.”
“If you insist.” She very slowly spread her legs, leaning her head back slightly to expose her throat. He persistently asked her to give him her throat; sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t. She sensed that—in some weird way—he got off a little on not knowing whether or not she’d refuse him. “Time is ticking, Jesse. Of course, you can just end the game now . . . but that would make me the winner.”
Rolling back his shoulders, Jesse said, “I won’t lose this, Harley, no matter what you do.” And then he missed his damn shot. Smiling like . . . well, a cat who got the cream, his mate rose from the chair and sort of slinked her way to the table. Maybe it was because she was so utterly confident she had the upper hand, but she proceeded to effortlessly pocket three more balls.
“Just one ball left,” she taunted Jesse. “Then all I have to do is sink the black . . . and I win.”
As she lined up to take the next shot, he asked, “You ever been fucked in the ass, Harley?” And her ball almost sailed off the table.
She whirled on him. “Oh my God, I will kill you!”
He chuckled. “So close to winning . . . and yet you won’t.” He proved that by pocketing three balls in quick succession. All he had to do now was pocket the black. And he might have done just that if she hadn’t chosen that moment to once more sit on the chair, legs spread, and begin to play with her clit. “Harley, we agreed—”
“That we wouldn’t touch each other. We didn’t say we wouldn’t touch ourselves. You fisted your cock earlier and I never said anything.”
“I’ll bet money that you didn’t say anything about it because you planned to do this.”
She grinned, rubbing her clit. “You’d win that bet. But you won’t win this game. Nu-uh.”
“A demon. You’re a fucking demon.”
Harley laughed. “Take your shot so you can miss and I can end this game.” She slipped a finger inside her. “We both know that’s what will happen.”
He’d be damned if he let her win this. He bent over, aimed, and stupidly sank her freaking ball. That not only helped her, it earned him a punishment. Shit. Jesse cracked one side of his neck. “Well?”
“Come here.”
Fuck, just hearing her say the word “come” made his cock twitch. He was still so damn hard that it hurt to walk, but he stalked to where she sat on the dining chair. “Two minutes,” he reminded her, knowing it would be two minutes of utter torture. But he would not come.