Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Lone Wolf by Anne Marsh Excerpt Tour






An excerpt from LONE WOLF, a full-length standalone werewolf biker romance releasing May 31st!


Kidnapper.
That’s a new low, even for me. I try the label out while icy water pounds over my shoulders and down my back, shriveling my balls into obedience. Or at least that’s the plan. Normally, hitting an ice-cold shower does the trick, but tonight I can’t stop thinking about the woman waiting on me in the next room. Poppy’s got to be the most beautiful female I’ve ever laid eyes on, but it’s not just the exterior paint job that has me jonesing for her. I fucking like her—the way she thinks and gives me crap about the most ridiculous stuff. The way she won’t quit and just goes after what she wants with everything she’s got. She was spectacular when she came flying out of nowhere and rammed her boat into mine. I didn’t give a fuck right then about the job I had to do or what my Alpha had ordered.
I’ve been thinking about her ever since.
This whole ultimatum I gave her is bullshit, and my dick’s sitting up straight, begging for her touch, even though the water’s colder than an ice bath in Antarctica. Nothing’s gonna make me less hot for Poppy, and when I get out, I’m still hard as fuck.
So screw it.
She’s the trespasser. I fist my dick. She doesn’t belong here.
I tell myself that when I get out of the shower and pull on my jeans. The words don’t stick. I don’t bother doing up my jeans—just drag my hand down my dick, slapping my fingers around the shaft and cupping my balls. Take a nice, slow pull up. Fuck, that feels good. Not as good as it would if Poppy were touching me, though. She’d need both hands to handle me. Despite the cold water treatment, there’s nothing small about me.
Sex for me is usually quick and rough. Not like I’m worried about anyone walking in on me, but it’s been a means to an end. A way to get rid of my blue balls and then get on with my shit. I’m the king of the two-minute speed jerk, hitting the gas in the fast lane and then going for gold. I don’t wait to blow my load.
Tonight my plans are different. I grab the lotion I stole from Poppy earlier. Don’t judge. I squirt that shit on my palm and then curl my fingers around my dick, sliding down and twisting. Not as good as having Poppy touch me, but this will do.
She’s the strangest mix of strong and delicate, but maybe it’s because I made the mistake of underestimating her and now she’s constantly surprising me. So what if she likes pink? And if she’s both shy and awkward—and wonderfully, aggressively blunt? She doesn’t have to be just one thing. She can be whoever she wants when she’s with me, and I suspect I’ll love it.
I drag my palm up, squeezing the head hard. I’m a fucking greedy bastard because I want more. I want to lotion up her tits and slide my dick between them fast and hard, until the tip’s hitting her chin and I blow all over her chest. Or flip her over and use that lotion to ease my way deep inside her ass. Not picky, really. I’ll take whatever she’ll give me.
She’s on the other side of the door.
Feet away from me.
All I have to do is reach out and turn the knob.




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