Chapter Five: Caught By The Wolf

Aurelia

The girl was still trembling beneath him, gasping into the sheets, completely oblivious. But Chase didn’t look away from me. His hips slowed to a torturous grind, that thick, slick length dragging in and out of her with deliberate cruelty as he held my stare through the crack in the door.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smirk, like dark promise and pure threat wrapped together.

Sweat gleamed on his chest, his abs flexing with every controlled thrust. His eyes burned straight through me, pinning me in place more effectively than his hands ever could.

He knew exactly what I’d seen. Exactly what it had done to me.

Heat flooded my face, my chest, pooling low and shameful between my thighs. My knees nearly buckled.

I stumbled backward and bolted down the hall. I didn’t stop until I was inside my room. I slammed the door shut, and with trembling fingers, I turned the lock.

I pressed my back to the wood, chest heaving, my thighs clenched against the ache that watching him had left behind.

Shit.

He’d seen me watching. I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor, trying to drag air into my lungs. Trying to erase the image of him, magnificent, brutal, and impossibly huge, moving inside her like he owned every inch of pleasure in the world.

Minutes crawled by. The house was silent again, or maybe my pulse was just too loud to hear anything else.

Then came the loud BANG!

A fist pounded against my door, hard enough to rattle the frame. I jolted, a startled gasp tearing from my throat.

BANG! Another one, heavy, impatient, commanding.

“Open the door, Little Lamb.”

His voice rolled through the wood, low and frighteningly deep, laced with dark velvet and raw danger.

It wasn’t a request. It was a predator’s growl, the kind that made prey freeze and beg at the same time.

My breath hitched. Every nerve in my body lit up, terror and heat twisting together until I couldn’t tell them apart.

“I know you’re in there,” he said, quieter now, but somehow worse. Closer. Like his mouth was pressed to the door. “I can hear you breathing. I can practically smell how wet you got watching me fuck her.”

Oh God.

My thighs pressed tighter together, traitorous and desperate.

“Open the door,” he commanded again, his voice dropping even lower, rough with promise. “Or I’ll break it down and drag you out myself. And when I do, Little Lamb… I won’t be gentle.”

Silence stretched slowly, thick and electric. My hand hovered over the lock, shaking. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

I waited behind the locked door, my back pressed flat against the wood, every muscle coiled tight.

My heart was beating so loud I was sure he could hear it through the walls. Minutes dragged like hours.

I waited until I could only hear the distant rumble of thunder fading into silence. He was gone.

Or so I told myself.

With shaking fingers, I turned the lock, slowly and silently, then eased the door open just a crack. The hallway was empty. Good.

I exhaled, a shaky breath of relief. The second I stepped forward, a hand shot out of the darkness like a striking snake, fingers clamping around my throat and locking me in place with terrifying precision.

The door slammed wide against the wall. Chase filled the frame, shirtless now, sweat still glistening on his carved chest and abs from what he’d been doing minutes ago.

His dark hair was wild, grey eyes blazing with something feral and victorious. The scent of sex and heat rolled off him, thick and overwhelming.

He pushed me back into the room without effort, kicking the door shut behind us with his heel.

“Oh, Little Lamb,” he murmured roughly, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

My back hit the wall beside my bed, his grip on my throat firm enough to pin me, loose enough that I could still drag in ragged breaths.

His thumb stroked once along my racing pulse, like he was savoring the proof of how much he terrified me. How much he affected me.

I hated that my body responded, heat flooding the apex of my thighs, my nipples tightening against the thin fabric of my sleep shirt, thighs pressing together against the ache he’d planted earlier.

“Let go,” I managed, but it came out breathless, weak.

His lips curved into that cruel, beautiful smirk. “No.”

He stepped closer, crowding me, his bare chest brushing my breasts through the cotton. The heat of him was scorching. His free hand braced against the wall beside my head, caging me completely.

“You watched me fuck her,” he said quietly, each word cutting me like a blade. “Stood there in the dark like a needy little voyeur, getting off on it.”

My face burned from shame. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie.” His fingers flexed on my throat, a warning squeeze that made my breath hitch. “I saw your face. I saw how hard you were breathing, how you couldn’t look away when I buried myself in her.”

He leaned in, his full lips grazing my ear, voice dropping to a growl. “You were imagining it was you, weren’t you? Bent over, taking every inch, screaming my name.”

A helpless sound escaped me, half protest, half something shamefully close to agreement.

His thigh nudged between mine, forcing them apart, pressing right against the damp heat I couldn’t hide. I gasped at the contact, my hips jerking involuntarily.

“That’s it,” he rasped, rocking forward once slowly. “Soaked already just from watching, from knowing what I can do.”

I clawed at his wrist, trying to pry his hand from my throat, but he didn’t budge. “I hate you.”

“Yeah?” He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his own burning. “Good. Hate me while I make you come apart.”

Then his mouth crashed onto mine. No gentleness. No hesitation. Only raw, punishing hunger.

He kissed like he wanted to devour every lie I’d ever told myself about not wanting this. His tongue took mine, demanding, dominating, tasting of whiskey and sin. I fought for half a second, teeth nipping, hands shoving, then melted against him with a broken moan I couldn’t hold back.

He groaned into my mouth, grip tightening on my throat as his other hand slid down my body, rough and possessive, cupping my breast, thumb flicking over my nipple until I arched into him.

When he finally tore his mouth away, we were both breathing like we’d run miles.

“You opened the door,” he said against my lips, voice ragged. “You let the wolf in.”

His hand left my throat, sliding down between us and under the waistband of my sleep shorts without asking.

I grabbed his wrist, but it was too late. One thick finger dragged through my wetness mercilessly and I cried out, my legs nearly giving out.

“That’s for watching,” he growled. A second finger joined, pushing inside me with devastating ease. “This is for running.”

He curled them and stroked once twice, his thumb circling my clit with merciless precision.

“And when you come screaming my name, Little Lamb,” he whispered with his eyes locked on mine, a dark and triumphant glint in his eyes, “that’s for thinking you could ever hide from me.”

My head fell back against the wall, my hips rocking shamelessly into his hand.

I was already lost.

“Take my fingers like the dirty little slut you are,” he rasped, his voice smoky and thick with lust, thrusting those two thick fingers in quick, brutal strokes that stole the air right from my lungs.

I cried out, my back arching off the wall as he drove deeper, curling them hard against that spot that made sparks explode behind my eyes.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed throughout the room.

“Chase? Baby, are you in there?” His girlfriend’s voice.

Shit.