Wrath of the Wolf Queen [HOTWP #2]

Chapter Twenty: NIKOLAI

I'm sitting up on the couch, staring at the kitchenette without really seeing. Everything looks a little foggy, as though made of glass and paper. The distant sloshing noises of Naomi in the tub rings in my ears.

I sigh and lean back into the couch. I try not to imagine how good she must look in there, rubbing her body with various lotions and scents. And hell, I'm failing.

Just then, the door to the washroom bangs open, and I turn my head to see Naomi standing there, stark naked.

I jump to my feet.

"Naomi?" I say, my voice a distant echo in my ears. She gives me a coy smile—something I have never seen her throw my way—before she stalks up to my side and stares up at me. It takes every fiber of willpower I have not to look at her breasts, or the perfect curves of her body.

"What are you—"

She cuts me off by sliding two warm, wet hands over my waist and up my back, my torso now topless even though I swear I was wearing a shirt only a moment ago. I go wholly still, stunned by how good her flesh feels against mine, by how the scrape of her nails elicits the most unholy sensations from my dick.

I stare into her eyes, those perfect, pale magenta eyes, and the devilish glint in them causes me to come undone. Every inch of discipline, every modicum of restraint I had dissipates as I pull her forward and crush my lips to hers.

She kisses back with equal vigor, moaning my name against my mouth, feeling some salacious beast within me. I have her down on the couch within an instant, lips sealed to hers, body covering hers like a vice. I need to be inside her. I need—

***

I jerk awake with a gasp, staring around as the disappointment of reality sinks in.

It was all just a dream. Of course it was. And now my dick—all eight inches of it—strains against the material of my pants.

"For fuck's sake," I mutter to myself, then I throw my back against the couch with a grown. This has got to be the third sexual dream I have had about Naomi in the span of two days, and it is getting way out of hand. Because she'd never fuck me in a million years, and at this point I'm just torturing myself.

I cast a longing look to the washroom door, where I can hear her silently splashing about in the tub. Her naked body flashes into my mind, and with a groan I lean back into the couch, pushing my palms into my eyes as my dick aches with need.

This is torture. Literal fucking torture.

Just then, the door to the washroom bangs open, and my heart leaps as my head whips around. But she's not naked, unlike in my dream. Of course she isn't. She's wrapped in a fluffy white towel, knotted right above her breasts.

I swallow my disappointment and plaster a lazy grin on my face. I also shift my position so that my massive erection—which I think has grown bigger now just by looking at her perfect face—is more hidden.