chapter 39

Yelping in surprise, I’m struggling to figure out what the hell is going on when Dayne leans back a little in his seat, one hand spanning my waist, and opens his mouth.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out what he wants. Me to feed him, apparently.

My wolf snarls, and charges at the cage I’ve locked her in.

Hastily, I turn to the plate to hide my eyes from Dayne, making it look like I’m eager to do what he wants.

Which means I’m now committed to going through with this ridiculous housewife fantasy Dayne’s cooked up for me.

Picking up a still-warm cookie, I let out a breath before I turn back around, mentally warning my wolf to stay quiet since an alpha wolf like Dayne will eat her for breakfast.

Still, it’s no easy task to break off a piece of the cookie and place it gently into Dayne’s mouth when everything inside me wants nothing more than to ram it down his throat.

Although he gazes down at me with bland indifference, not a hint of emotion crossing his face, something warns me he knows exactly what I want to do, and he finds it fucking hilarious.

Without warning, his mouth snaps shut, and I yank my hand back in time before his teeth close around my fingers, glaring at him until he raises an eyebrow at me.

Right. Submissive, my brain shrieks, glaring at alphas is not what we do. Ever.

Tearing my gaze away, I lower my eyes and as he chews, I take advantage of the opportunity to rein myself in by examining the office Dayne spends most of his time in. A room I haven’t seen until now.

Dayne’s office is as masculine as he is. The dark-stained desk is perfectly in keeping with the dark trims, window frame, and heavy bookcase.

In front of a fireplace is a large super soft white sheepskin rug I know is going to be the softest thing I’ve ever touched. The wolf in me craves nothing more than for me to strip and roll around on its plushness.

Beneath me, Dayne shifts, and turning to face him, I blink in surprise at the piece of cookie approaching my mouth.

I stare at it and then lift my gaze to his face. But when the cookie bumps against my bottom lip, I open my mouth and let him feed me.

He’s not in a hurry to move his fingers away after he’s slipped the cookie in my mouth as I was, even after I’ve finished chewing and swallowed.

His fingers brush against my bottom lip, and instinctively my tongue darts out, touching the tip of his finger. I find myself thinking about tasting more than his finger, and the idea of it has me feeling warm all over.

Not for the first time do I wonder how Dayne is able to trigger my arousal with so little effort.

“What about the land?” His sudden question startles me, and I peek up at his face, finding his gaze on my lips, but he’s frowning. “There’s more you haven’t discovered. Get investigators on it if you must. I don’t care how much it costs.”

Right. The accountant.

I listen for a little while longer as the guy goes on about other property and investments in Canada before I tune out, my gaze drifting to the open laptop on the desk.

It’s a photograph of a gorgeous log cabin set in the forests which looks vaguely familiar, and that’s about as much as I have time to think before Dayne is leaning forward and snapping the lid of the laptop shut, cutting off my view.

Rude.

I turn to find his eyes on the plate on the desk and take the hint. So, snatching up another piece of cookie, I place it in his mouth.

Except this time, I don’t move quick enough.

His mouth closes around a finger in a stinging bite, which makes me jump. But then he’s drawing the digit into his mouth, forming a tight seal around my finger as he sucks.

Although my gasp is full of sharp surprise, it’s not my only reaction to the warm pressure. I feel myself getting wet as my gaze remains locked on Dayne’s mouth.

Not that long ago he nearly brought me to climax playing with my breasts.

When he nods at his desk, I tug my hand free before grabbing for the glass of milk with a shaking hand, relieved to have something to distract myself from thoughts of Dayne making me orgasm from sucking on my fingers.

On and on it goes, me feeding him, him feeding pieces of cookie to me, making sure to draw my finger into his mouth until I’m shifting restlessly in his lap. And going by the bulge I feel growing beneath me, I’m not the only one this is having an effect on.

Finally, with the plate and glass empty, I rise. Only Dayne’s hand on my wrist stops me. But before I can ask him what he wants, he places my hand over the large bulge straining his pants.

My breath catches in my throat at the heat I feel coming off him, even through his jeans. And when his hand moves away, I dart a quick peek at his face and find him resting back in his seat, eyes on me.

Although he gives the impression of waiting patiently, there’s a tension around his mouth and the corner of his eyes, which tells me more emotions are stirring beneath the surface of his calm than he wants to reveal.

Returning my gaze to his pants, gently I stroke my hand over him until the need to touch him without his jeans being in the way becomes an urge I can no longer ignore. I unbutton Dayne’s pants and carefully draw the zip down.

I’m well and truly stunned at how quiet my wolf is since she was so furious before, and I’m still wearing this ridiculous apron which I’m convinced would only look good in an open fire. But she’s quiet now, as if she’s as curious about Dayne as I am.

He’s so large, I struggle to believe he fits inside me. The bulbous tip glistens with a clear liquid, and I brush my finger over him before raising my hand to my mouth. I touch my tongue to it, desperate to know what he tastes like.

“That isn’t acceptable.”

My eyes fly to Dayne’s face. And although he sounds annoyed, he has his gaze fixed on my mouth and his eyes are burning with a heat I can practically feel.

It’s not hard for me to figure out where he wants me to put my mouth. But with the taste of him in my mouth; salty, musky, earthy, I’m feeling ravenous.