A Wolf in Billionaire’s Clothing

By: Daphne Loveling



Miranda was silent, digesting all that Liam had said. “This is all so… I mean, I can barely believe you don’t hate me. Now you’re telling me you’re not only a werewolf, not only are you attracted to me… you want me to be your…”

“Mate. Yes.” Liam stopped, and carefully moved several inches further away from her, as if wanting to give her space. “I’m sure this is confusing to you. But Miranda, I have waited my whole life for the one who would be my mate. I always assumed she would be one of my kind. But the moment I met you, both sides of me were irrevocably drawn to you. Your scent is intoxicating to me, so much so that it was all I could do not to take you then and there. I’ve had to keep my distance from you until I could regain my composure and learn to control myself around you. My seeming hostility was only proof of the intensity of my desire.”

Miranda’s body was reacting against her will to his words. This gorgeous man, proclaiming desperate attraction – need – for her! It was almost unbelievable. But she could feel the heat building between them. Her body ached for him as much as he said he ached for her. She wanted him, badly – wanted him to engulf her in his muscled arms, to take her, to make her his. The strength of her need surprised her, the heat growing between her legs set her every nerve ending on edge, as if every cell in her body was reaching out to him.

With supreme force of will, she continued in a strangled voice, “I believe you.” She could feel herself tremble.

“Miranda,” he whispered. “I want you.” His eyes glowed, looking deeply into hers. Without another word, he moved slowly toward her. His hand raised up and twined in her hair, and he pulled her forward, dipping his lips to hers in a long, searching kiss. When he pulled away, Miranda was breathless, the heat between her legs growing to a raging fire that coursed through her, filling her with need. Her gaze met his, and her lips parted, as if an invitation. Liam groaned and brought his mouth down on hers again, crushing him to her. Miranda closed her eyes as he opened her mouth with his. His tongue sought hers insistently, and hers met his as steams of heat began flowing through her body. The heat between her legs began to pulse and spread, and she moaned her desire into his mouth. He continued kissing her hungrily as he began to undo the buttons on her blouse one by one. Her breasts tingled with desire as she waited impatiently for him to touch her. He drew her blouse apart and his lips broke apart from hers. Rearing back to look at her, he growled, his jaw clenching with desire. His eyes were dark with passion as he took in the soft, creamy mounds of her breasts nestled inside the cups of her bra.

“God, Miranda… How did I make it three days without doing this?” he wondered huskily. He stood and held his hands out to her, helping her up. He helped her out of her blouse, dropping it gently onto the coffee table, then reached around her to unzip her skirt. Miranda wiggled out of it and let it fall to the floor, then stepped out of it. She stood there before him in her bra, panties and heels, offering herself to him.

“You’re so exquisitely beautiful,” he whispered, his voice heavy with desire. Opening his mouth slightly, his teeth flashed in a canine snarl of need. He stepped toward her and unhooked her bra, dropping it to the ground. Bringing his hands up, he cupped both breasts in his palms. Softly, he began to stroke her nipples with his thumbs. She gasped and closed her eyes at the contact, her back arching involuntarily to bring her breasts closer to the sweet sensation. She was dizzy with need; she grasped his arms for balance. Low, guttural moan escaped her, and she longed for him to fill her with his heat.

One hand moved away from her breasts and caught her hand, bringing it down to feel the hot, hard steel between his legs. “Do you feel what you do to me? I want you so badly. Tell me you want this.”

“Yes!” she whispered urgently. She opened her eyes and reached down with her other hand, unfastening his pants so that they fell to the floor. Staring deeply into his eyes, she reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, which he removed along with his undershirt. He stood there before her, a god in only his boxer briefs, his large shaft outlined by the fabric. He hooked his thumbs through the waistband and removed those as well. Miranda began to do likewise, but he stopped her. “I want to do that,” he muttered in a voice tight with need. Kneeling before her, he slowly pulled her panties over her thighs and down her legs, keeping his lips just millimeters from her throbbing sex. His hot breath teased her clit as he slowly ran a finger up the inside of her leg from her ankle to her thigh. Miranda’s breath hitched, and she felt herself getting wetter as the throbbing between her legs increased.

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