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.
gaze rips into the field and to the asshole standing at the edge of it like a goddamn statue–arms crossed,
Grayson fucking Westwood.
more lap,” he
Sharp. In front of
I freeze.
know half the pack’s watching now. Warriors. Trainees. Even that one she–wolf who keeps batting her lashes at him like he’s
turning with fire in
Seven.
My shirt is soaked. And my pride? It’s already bleeding from the way he’s been ignoring me since
up beside
piss him off earlier,” he
“I
sky groans
like the gods are watching this mess and seriously considering throwing hands. I feel
air shifts–wet,
Wilkinson,”
chest heaving, legs trembling, blood hot in my ears. “I’ve
Then make it eight
2/0
12:43 Wed, 30 Jul
Chapter 11
ready to tell him to shove his order right up
can be a fucking example of what a weak omega looks
I stand. Logan mutters something under his breath-“Dude, what the fuck?“–but I don’t hear the rest. Everything else fades.
chest burns. My eyes
Not here. Not in front of all
like I was something he wanted, something worth chasing. And now he’s standing there like I’m just some pathetic trainee
under my skin. I won’t give him the satisfaction. I won’t let him see me break. I
each word sharp and laced with
before anyone can say a word, before the tears can
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 the
“Fucking weak?”
on fire, heart slamming like it’s trying
“Fuck you, Grayson!”
hope the
it.
Weak?
tongue down my throat like I was the only thing he ever fucking wanted. After gripping my
now I’m the
Bite me, Alpha.
Better yet–choke on it.
hit the track again, splashing through a puddle so hard water hits my thigh. I don’t
still between my legs. The
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Chapter 11
let him
I liked it.
like some pathetic, mouthy
weak. I’ll show
face
spitting in his mouth after
once, twice, don’t let the tears fall. I
Not today.
my thighs are still clenching like
bastard,” I snarl
to the Moon, if he comes near me
My breath snags.
my boot like the forest itself just
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