The Denver Alpha
My cheek presses against the wood surface of the desktop as he grips the nape of my neck, his other hand yanking my yoga pants and underwear down my thighs in one swift motion.
“I think I’ll need to do something about that smart mouth, too,” Cole growls, dropping a hand between my legs and dragging his fingers along my slit, coating them with my wetness. “Just as I thought,” he taunts. “You’re fucking soaked. You get off on behaving badly, don’t you Juliet?”
“Maybe,” I pant. “What are you gonna do about it?”
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