Taming the Wolf (8 page)

Tonight, on a night when the moon shone bright and full in the sky, she was going to catch a wolf.
Marcus Wolf, to be exact.
She figured she’d waited an appropriate length of time— twenty-four hours—to prove she wasn’t offering sex as payment for the generous donation he’d given FYI. And even if twenty-four hours wasn’t enough time, she didn’t care. For once in her life, she was going after what she wanted, and to hell with the consequences.
She’d set the plan in motion by calling his office that afternoon. His receptionist had put her through almost immediately.
“Hey, beautiful,” Marcus greeted her, the husky timbre of his voice pouring heat into her ear. “I was just thinking about you.”
Samara’s nipples got hard. She licked her lips. “Were you?”
“Yeah. You left your attaché case in my car. I figured you’d probably want it back at some point.”
She chuckled softly. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I was going to stop by your office today to pick it up, but I wanted to find out when you’d be there.”
“I have a meeting in half an hour. But I should be back around five-thirty, and then I’ll probably be here for the rest of the night buried in paperwork.”
Or buried in me. Samara smiled wickedly at the thought. “That works for me. I have a ton of things to do before I leave here anyway. If I drop by around seven, would that be too late?”
“Not at all,” Marcus murmured. “I’ll be here.”
After Samara hung up the phone, she finished what she’d been working on until five o’clock. Then she grabbed her belongings and left, surprising her employees, who were used to their boss pulling late nights at the office.
She’d spent a productive day making phone calls and drafting letters to neighborhood associations and corporations that had expressed an interest in participating in the Youth for the Arts and Literacy project. Now that FYI had the necessary funds to officially launch the venture, there was a lot or work to do.
But not tonight, thought Samara, climbing into her Avalon. She’d spent the last two years pouring blood, sweat and tears into preserving the Institute’s legacy of community service, doing whatever was necessary to keep the organization afloat. Dinner with Marcus last night had been about business.
Tonight was strictly for pleasure.
When she arrived home, she filled her tub with scented bath crystals from Victoria’s Secret and took a hot bath. When she’d finished, she rubbed mango body butter all over herself, slipped into the sexiest lingerie she owned, then stepped into a pair of sixinch stiletto heels she’d once bought on a whim and never really intended to wear. The shoes were downright lethal to walk in, but years of runway training—courtesy of her mother—had given Samara the confidence and skill to walk in just about anything. And her legs looked positively fierce in the stiletto heels, if she didn’t say so herself.
Slicking her lips with red and finger-combing her hair, Samara donned her black Burberry trench coat, cinched the belt around her waist, then left the house humming Beyoncé’s “Naughty Girl.”
Marcus’s law firm was strategically located on the northeast end of Massachusetts Avenue—close enough to the city’s political presence and Capitol Hillers, but easily accessible to the historic H Street urban corridor with its disenfranchised residents. His practice specialized in civil litigation on behalf of plaintiffs in personal injury, wrongful death, medical malpractice, environmental and products liability, defamation and a number of other tort cases.
The firm occupied the entire tenth floor of a large glass office building. Samara boarded the elevator. As she watched each passing floor number light up, anticipation grew within her until it was a throbbing ache between her thighs. She was horny as hell, but Marcus Wolf was the only man on earth who could satisfy her hunger.
Just seeing his name prominently displayed on the double glass doors made her body tingle all over. THE LAW OFFICES OF MARCUS WOLF & ASSOCIATES.
Watch out, counselor. Court is now in session.
Samara pushed open the door and entered the large reception area. Although it was after hours, a solitary lamp glowed from a table in the far corner of the room. Behind the U-shaped reception desk, boxes containing manila folders and office supplies waited to be unpacked and filed. Lush landscapes and seascapes captured on canvas hung on the gallery-white walls, which looked freshly painted.
Stepping further into the office, Samara called out, “Marcus?”
After another moment of silence, he answered, “Come on back, Samara.”
Taking a deep breath, she started down the corridor. As she walked, her heels sank into a thick pile of Berber that absorbed her footfalls.
Marcus’s office was located at the end of the hallway, confirmed by the brass nameplate on the door that read MARCUS WOLF, J.D., ESQ., FOUNDER AND CEO.
The man himself was seated behind an enormous mahogany desk in a large office suite featuring mahogany-paneled walls and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered an impressive view of the downtown skyline, now shadowed in nightfall. More cardboard boxes were piled on the floor and on a round worktable in the middle of the room.
Marcus was on the phone with a client. When he glanced up and saw Samara standing in the doorway, he went very still. Her nipples grew erect as his dark eyes slowly raked over her, taking in her long bare legs and sexy stiletto heels. She could tell, by the way his lids grew hooded, that he liked what he saw.
She couldn’t wait to show him more.
“Thanks again for calling, Mr. Toussaint,” Marcus said into the phone. “I look forward to meeting you tomorrow.”
Samara stepped into the office as he hung up the phone and slowly rose to his feet, never taking his eyes off hers. He’d shed his suit jacket and tie, and the sleeves of his gray pinstriped shirt were rolled to his elbows. He looked breathtakingly masculine, and sexy as all get out.
“You should know that the doors were unlocked,” she told him, toying with her belt strap. “If I’d been some deranged defendant who’d lost to you in court, you’d be in trouble right now, Mr. Wolf.”
His mouth twitched. “Is that right?” he murmured, rounding the desk to walk toward her. With each step that brought him closer, her heart drummed wildly in anticipation. When he’d reached her, he gazed down at her. “And what about you, Ms. Layton? Am I in any danger with you?”
Samara licked her lips into a sultry smile. “You tell me.” Without another word, she untied her trench coat and let it fall open to reveal her half-naked body.
Marcus’s eyes widened, and he swore softly under his breath. His gaze devoured her like she was the last morsel of food on a starving man’s plate.
“You like?” she whispered seductively.
He nodded wordlessly, his heavy-lidded eyes following her hands as she moved them slowly across her flat, softly muscled belly and up toward her ribcage. When she reached the underside of her breasts, she paused, then slowly, tantalizingly, squeezed herself.
Marcus closed his eyes and groaned as if he were in pain. “Samara…”
She loved the way he said her name, especially now, when he was so turned on she could feel the heat radiating from his body. It aroused her to know she could wield this power over him, this gorgeous, powerful man who could have any woman he wanted.
“Open your eyes, Marcus,” she softly commanded.
His thick, ebony lashes lifted to reveal eyes that glittered with desire. She felt a shiver of anticipation for what was to come.
Holding his gaze, she slid the trench coat from her shoulders with deliberate slowness and let it fall to the floor around her. He made a rough, inarticulate sound, then reached out and grabbed her, hauling her into his arms and kissing her so hungrily her head spun. With a soft moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and feasted on his lips and tongue until they were both groaning with need.
Breaking the kiss, Samara reached up and began to unbutton his shirt. He watched her, his lids at half-mast, his breathing shallow and ragged. When she’d finished her task, he shrugged out of his shirt and impatiently tossed it aside, then reached for her again.
But Samara had other ideas. Evading his grasp, she turned and crossed to the door with a provocative sway of her hips, feeling his burning gaze on her scantily clad body. Because she was a workaholic, she didn’t get to the gym as often as she would’ve liked, but she knew she looked good in the skimpy lingerie she wore, with her round breasts, shapely ass and long, curvy legs.
She closed and locked the door, just in case the cleaning crew hadn’t finished their nightly rounds yet. She didn’t want anything or anyone to interrupt the business she and Marcus were about to conduct.
As she turned and started back across the room, he watched her like a ravenous wolf about to pounce on its prey. With his chest bared, he was a magnificent sight to behold, with beautiful mahogany skin and muscles that rippled over broad shoulders and an impressively sculpted abdomen. Just looking at him made Samara want to go for a long, hard ride astride him. Her breath quickened at the thought.
Reaching him, she kissed his soft lips, then skated her open mouth along the rugged curve of his jaw. He cupped her bottom as she rained hot kisses down the smooth hardness of his chest. When she drew a dark nipple into her mouth, he shuddered. She laved and suckled the flat bud with her tongue until it hardened in response.
“Samara,” Marcus said, low and hoarse. “I—”
She pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him. Smoldering dark eyes followed her as she knelt in front of him and slowly unzipped his pants. She felt him tense as she reached inside his boxers, and then he groaned as her hand closed around his throbbing erection, freeing him. Just as she’d suspected, the man was hung, mouthwateringly so.
She felt a rush of heat between her thighs when she raised her gaze to his, and watched him watching her as she grasped the base of his long, thick penis and flicked her tongue over the head, snakelike. He sucked in a sharp breath.
“A hundred ways,” she murmured seductively, reminding him of the conversation they’d had in her office yesterday. “I can show you a hundred different ways how much I want you.”
She took him in her mouth, and he swore savagely and gripped the back of her head. She sucked him hard and greedily, using her lips and tongue, squeezing his swollen testicles in her hand until she tasted the salt of pre-cum juice. She swallowed and suckled him harder, faster, unbearably aroused by the ragged moans that erupted from his throat. Just when she thought he might explode in her mouth, he sank his hand into her hair and pulled her head back. The intensity of his smoldering gaze sent liquid fire blazing through her.
He lifted her in his arms, swept the contents of the desk to the floor, then set her down on it. He unhooked the front clasp of her bra and slid the straps off her shoulders, then cupped her breasts in his large hands. He pushed them together, taking both erect nipples into his mouth and suckling them. She gasped and arched her back, flames of ecstasy whipping through her body. She had never hungered for another man the way she did for Marcus.
“Ease up,” he whispered in her ear. She raised her hips, and he grasped her panties and dragged them slowly off her legs and over her stiletto heels. She watched, her breath trapped in her throat as he rubbed the scrap of red silk over his face, inhaling her scent. When his tongue flicked out to taste the crotch, she nearly climaxed; it was so blatantly erotic. He smiled, slow and sexy, before tucking her panties into his pants pocket, claiming possession.
“A souvenir,” he murmured. And then he just stood there, drinking his fill of her before whispering huskily, “You are so damn beautiful.”
Samara felt a shiver of warmth puddle in her groin. She closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath as he drew her right leg over his shoulder and began kissing his way slowly down her inner thigh, igniting a trail of fire along her nerve endings. Anticipation coiled inside her, tighter and tighter, until she thought she would die. At the first touch of his mouth on her, she threw back her head, a sharp cry escaping her throat. She moaned and gripped the edge of the desk for support as he licked her clitoris and the slippery folds of her sex, then plunged his tongue deep inside her.
Samara didn’t last even a minute. Marcus captured her wild cry in his mouth as she came apart in his arms, writhing against him as wetness ran down her upper thighs.
But that was just the appetizer. The main course had yet to be served.
Marcus reached inside his pants pocket, removed a condom from his wallet and quickly sheathed himself. Samara spread her thighs wide and he stepped between them, their gazes locked as she wrapped her legs around his waist. In one deep, mind-numbing thrust he filled her, groaning thickly as their bodies found a rhythm. When his hands slid down her back to grasp her bottom, she arched forward. His fingers kneaded her buttocks, lifting her off the desk and holding her tightly against him. He pounded in and out of her, thrusting so hard she felt his testicles slamming heavily against her.
“Oh God, oh God…” she whimpered over and over again, her nails digging into his back as she clung desperately to him. She’d never known that her body could burn with this kind of savage, unbridled lust.
Laying her down on the desk, Marcus lifted her legs higher around his torso, giving him a deeper angle of penetration. He felt huge inside her, huge and magnificently hard. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs. She stared at his face above hers—dark, handsome and powerfully sensual. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but tonight he was hers, hers for the taking and pleasuring.
As an exquisite pressure built inside her, her thighs began to shake uncontrollably. “I’m cumming,” she cried breathlessly. “Ohhh, Marcus…Marcus!”
Her hips arched off the desk as a blinding orgasm tore through her, rhythmically convulsing her body. The spasms were so intense she thought she would faint. A moment later, Marcus moaned and bucked against her as he came. Her flesh quivered from the impact of his powerful thrusts as he rode her through his release.
Moments later he collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath, his heart hammering against her own. Samara wrapped her arms around his back and burrowed her face in his neck, inhaling his delicious scent, mingled with the musk of their lovemaking.
They remained like that for several minutes, his throbbing penis buried inside her, her legs locked around his waist. At length he lifted his head and gazed down into her flushed face.