His Trouble Maker
Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Chapter 11
JESSICA
“Grayson-”
“Shut up,” he growls.
I shove at his chest–hard–but it’s like pushing against a wall of muscle wrapped in rage. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he catches both of my wrists in one hand–fast, rough–and yanks them up over my head, pinning them against the cold
metal shelf behind me.
The shelf rattles violently. Something tumbles off–a can? A box? I don’t know. It crashes to the floor like thunder, but I barely hear it.
I’m too busy trying to breathe.
His other hand grips my jaw–firm, possessive–and angles my face to the side like he’s done it a thousand times in his head.
“Stop talking,” he snarls.
Then he licks me.
God.
From the curve of my neck all the way up to just under my ear–slow, wet, claiming–and I swear I feel it in every nerve, every fucking inch of me.
I shiver.
My stomach flips.
Heat coils low–deep and fast and wrong.
“God, you taste…” he groans, voice wrecked. “Fuck.”
His mouth drags back down–kissing, sucking, biting–and I can’t even think straight. It’s too much.
“You don’t get it, do you,” he mutters into my skin. Another kiss. Another bite.
My fingers dig into the metal shelf behind me like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. “I’ve waited for this,” he groans. “Dreamed of this mouth. This neck.”
He angles me again, dragging his tongue over my pulse, and I swear I moan like he just touched between my legs. My breath stutters. My hips twitch.
I’m not even trying to hide it.
“Grayson-
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12:43 Wed, 30 Jul Gr
Chapter 11
“So soft,” he rasps. “So fuckin‘ sweet.”
His hand slides under my shirt. Rough fingers against bare skin. I gasp again, my body arching into him on instinct.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
His tongue slides up my throat again. “Lie better,” he growls.
blink. Hard. The memory rips away like it burned me–like my body still feels him pressed against mine, mouth hot and filthy against my skin.
Asshole.
the field and to the asshole standing at the edge of it like a goddamn statue–arms crossed, shoulders squared, eyes locked
Grayson fucking Westwood.
lap,”
In front
I freeze.
Warriors. Trainees. Even that one she–wolf who keeps batting her lashes
I snap, turning with fire in
Seven.
is soaked. And my pride? It’s already bleeding from the way he’s been ignoring me
jogs up beside
told you not to piss him
“I didn’t
groans
are watching this mess and seriously considering throwing hands. I
shifts–wet, thick, and
Wilkinson,” Grayson
trembling, blood hot in my ears. “I’ve done seven,” I bite
Then make it eight
2/0
12:43 Wed, 30 Jul
Chapter 11
shove his order right up his smug Alpha ass–but he cuts me
be a fucking example
he was doing. I freeze where I stand. Logan mutters something under his breath-“Dude, what the fuck?“–but I don’t hear
throat tightens. My chest burns. My eyes start
in front of all these people.
I was something he wanted, something worth chasing. And now he’s standing there like I’m just some pathetic trainee he gets
crawl up my neck, like shame and fury are fighting for space under my skin. I won’t give him the satisfaction. I won’t let him see me break. I straighten my spine, force the wobble out of my
sharp and laced with glass. “You want one
can say a word, before
I hit the track. Thunder rolls across the field like a warning, and the first drop of rain slaps against my cheek like a second insult. Weak omega. His voice keeps echoing inside my skull, louder than the wind, heavier than
“Fucking weak?”
round the far edge of the field, lungs on fire, heart
“Fuck you, Grayson!”
he hears. I hope the whole goddamn pack hears. Let them watch me run–let them
it.
Weak?
me weak after shoving his tongue down my throat like I was the only thing he ever fucking wanted. After gripping my wrists like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss me or strangle me. After
I’m the
Bite me, Alpha.
Better yet–choke on it.
puddle so hard
sound of his voice. The heat still between my legs. The burn in my throat from
30 Jul
Chapter 11
let
I liked it.
me like some pathetic, mouthy little omega
weak. I’ll show him
his face under my
spitting in his mouth
blink hard, once, twice, don’t let the tears
Not today.
are still clenching like they miss
snarl under my
he comes near me again–if he even looks
My breath snags.
stop mid–stride, mud sucking at my boot like the forest itself just told
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