Wickedly Built

December Ink

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 5,435
4 Ratings (4.0)

When you send a wolf with a hair-trigger to work for a woman with a short fuse, things can get electric. And when easy to irritate werewolf Ingel Duffy accidentally finds his mate, not so appropriately named Serenity, things get a bit messy. Wickedly Built is paranormal erotica at its best~fast, hot, and wild. READER BEWARE: contains explicit sex and language. Originally published by Ruthie's Club

Wickedly Built
4 Ratings (4.0)

Wickedly Built

December Ink

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 5,435
4 Ratings (4.0)
In Cart
In Wish List
Available formats
PDF
HTML
Cover Art by Sommer Marsden
Excerpt

EXCERPT COPYRIGHT Sommer Marsden/2009

“You go home.” I pointed to my friend. “You work,” I said, frowning and loving it. I planned on frowning for the rest of the day.

Daphne smooched me on the cheek and climbed into her shiny little sports car. “Okay, don’t eat him alive. Leave a few big pieces so they can identify his body.” She started the engine and gave us both little finger waves and off she went, spewing gravel.

Ingel turned to me and smiled again. His eyes flickered a gorgeous silver for a moment, and I forgot myself. I turned to flustered, smitten school girl with the shift in his gorgeous gaze. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” He tilted his head back like he was smelling something on the wind. Like when the faintest hint of a campfire could be detected on an autumn day.

“Make your eyes do that?”

“I don’t know what you mean. But I do need to get started because there’s a big storm coming. I don’t like to try to replace wood when it’s wet.”

I glanced up at the bright blue sky. Not a cloud to be seen. The sun was so bright it was nearly blinding. Storm? I sniffed the air. Nothing. Crazy man. I had hired a crazy man. “Yeah. Big ass storm. I can see that. Now let’s get moving Mr. Fix It. I’m not paying you to stand here and look sexy.” I clamped my hand over my mouth and he took a step toward me.

Somehow his jaw was more angular and his stubble suddenly out of control. His eyes were a mix of chocolate brown and sterling silver. “You smell good. You’d better go inside.” Ingel’s voice had gone to gravel and dust—a rusty unused sound that set the fine hair on my neck on end. I felt my pulse jackrabbit, and I stepped toward him instead of away. He pinned me so quickly I didn’t have time to react. His kiss was hot, crushing, and exactly as I imagined—scorching and demanding, making my heartbeat erratic and the beat of my cunt crazier still. I arched my hips toward him and then caught myself. I tugged and tugged until his steel grip released me, and I stumbled over the rotten boards.

“Um. Okay, here are the ones that are bad. And you need to fix those. Okay?” My voice was high and my lungs didn’t seem to know what to do with the air I was taking in. My pulse was beating like a war drum in my ears and a matching hot tempo sounded between my thighs.

Ingel looked down as if he had never seen rotten wood, let alone a porch made from the stuff. He looked more himself, and when he spoke his voice was much gentler—easier on the ears. It was the same soothing warm chocolate tone he had possessed during our introductions. “Right. Sorry. You should maybe go inside, you think? I think it would be good if you went in.” Now he refused to look at me. His eyes were pinned to the shabby porch as if he found it suddenly fascinating. That made me want to kiss him all over again.

“Okay.” I nodded but I didn’t want to go inside. My natural instinct was to stay around him. He drew me in and I liked him. And that was thrilling and annoying all at once. My panties were wet in the crotch and my nipples were hard beyond belief. “I’ll do that. Go in. I’ll be inside. If you need me.”

I sounded so needy when I said it, but his eyes found mine and I didn’t care. He smiled again, and I resisted the crazy urge to climb him and wrap my legs around his waist. Instead I went in and shut the front door. And promptly pushed my face to it and watched him bend over and tear up rotten boards. With his bare hands.

When he started throwing rotten planks into my beautiful yellow roses, I lost it. I ripped open the door and marched across the porch. Screw it. If I fell through I’d sue him! “Hey, hey, there! You need to watch it. One of the few things about this house that aren’t totally useless is the gardens. You need to—”

I didn’t finish because he turned on me. Ingel moved so fast he surprised me even though I was staring right at him. His motion was a blur of color and air. His face had gone all angular and stubbly. His eyes shone like old coins and he sniffed at me the way my dog Killer had when I had just eaten steak. I backpedaled but I wasn’t fast enough. His hands, seemingly two times the size I remembered, grabbed me by the hips and hauled me forward. He buried his nose at the crux of my throat and inhaled deeply. God help me, but I let out a moan when I felt the wet length of his tongue drag up the side of my neck. He pulled me in tighter and his hard cock pressed against me. “You need to go back in,” he growled. Quite literally growled. His voice was all rocks and barbed wire again, and it made me nuts. I pushed my pelvis against his cock and rocked my hips. Bad move, but I didn’t care. The growl deepened and a quick sharp sort of fear mingled with the pleasure pulsing in my groin. “Now. You need to go back inside now.”

I knew he was right. I could feel it. There was a charge in the air and that couldn’t be good. I should run, but I seemed to be drawn by that feeling instead of repelled. Logically, I should get away. But my body was overriding my mind and shorting out the signals that told me when it was prudent to insure my own survival and safety. The man was off. Something was wrong with him. He was far from normal and I should be afraid. But stronger than the wrongness of him was the rightness of him. My instincts were at war. Part of me demanded I flee. Part of me demanded I strip naked and bend over.

Read more