Lone Wolf (The Adamos Book 6)

by Mia Madison

  Before he gets too carried away, I tell him, “My parents are out there.” Of course, “out there” is so far away from in here that we might as well be on the moon, but what if they come looking for me?

  “You’re an adult,” he says. “None of their business.”

  I give him a look. “You’ve been around my family a long time, Wolf. You know better than that.”

  “I ain’t worried about your family. You been spanked before?”

  My breath goes shallow; my inner muscles tighten. “No.”

  “Ever?”

  I shake my head, a little dazed that we’re actually having this conversation. “My parents, it wasn’t their style. Not with me, at least.”

  “You were a good girl.”

  My face gets hot. “Yes.” I’m afraid he’s going to ask me if I still am one, but he doesn’t.

  “Here’s how this is gonna go. If it gets to be too much, you tell me and I’ll stop. Got it?”

  “Okay,” I say hesitantly.

  “What are you thinkin’?” I don’t answer. “Talk to me, babe.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Dani,” he says in a warning tone that gives me more tingles.

  “I was just … I could tell you it was too much. Even if it wasn’t true.”

  “Yeah, you could. But you won’t.” His hand slides along my jaw, turning my face to his. “Because you’re a good girl, and that would be cheating.”

  Oh my god. He does know I’m a good girl. But my panties are wet, so maybe he’s wrong. “Oh,” I whisper.

  “You’re trustin’ me to listen to you, and I’m trustin’ you to be honest.”

  “Okay,” I whisper again.

  His thumb brushes my lower lip, which trembles in response. Wolf’s eyes get dark and he pulls me away from the wall and leads me over to the bed.

  I can see the whole room now that he’s not blocking my view. It’s spartan, with bare walls and only three pieces of furniture: the bed, a nightstand, and a straight chair along one wall.

  Wolf sits down on the bed and without another word, he undoes my jeans and yanks them and my panties down. I gasp, and my hands automatically cross at the juncture of my thighs, protecting me from his view. He looks at my hands, then at me, and arches a brow.

  My face is burning. “Can’t you just—”

  “No. Gonna spank your bare ass, babe.” My inner muscles clench again. If I lose my nerve I’ll be even more embarrassed, so when he pats his leg, I let him tug me down to lie across his leather-clad thighs.

  When he smooths one big hand over my exposed skin, my whole body quivers. “Grab that pillow,” he tells me.

  “Why?”

  “So you can shove it in your mouth if you get noisy.”

  Ohmygod. I snag the pillow and bring it close. I almost can’t believe this is happening, but it definitely is.

  “Keep both hands on the pillow. You bring one down here, that’ll earn you extra after you move it again.”

  “But what if—”

  “If you need me to stop, you tell me, like we agreed. Otherwise, you don’t interfere. Hang on to that wrist with your other hand if you need to.”

  I do that, and without further ado he begins. At first he’s almost gentle, his hand soothing my flesh after every not-that-hard smack. There’s a quick flash of pain each time that sizzles right to my clit, and a stinging burn that spreads through my core and feels better than I could have imagined.

  Gradually, he spanks me harder, faster, without stopping in between. I’m not in a state of mind to pay careful attention to his technique, but it registers on some corner of my brain that he never hits the same spot twice in a row.

  Still, the intensity’s much greater now. Every time his hand comes down, the impact reverberates through my body, and my system is overloading. My legs start to kick—awkwardly, because of my jeans.

  Wolf stops and with one hand tugs off each of my boots, then my socks, and then my jeans and panties, leaving me naked from the waist down. I’m not at all sure it’s a good thing that he wants my legs to be able to kick freely. In fact, I’m pretty certain it’s not.

  On the other hand, my clit is throbbing and I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

  The pause while this happens allows the sensitized flesh of my ass to occupy all my attention. When he starts again, everything builds up much more quickly. Within seconds, I let out a frantic, whimpering yelp.

  “Pillow,” Wolf orders. I stuff it in my mouth and let it muffle my cries, my legs kicking steadily now as his hand cracks against my bare skin. It hurts, but in an amazing way that has me right on the edge of exploding.

  I’m so close that when he stops, I make a tiny mew of protest … and then his fingers glide along my inner thigh. My muscles convulse again at having him so close to where I need him. “Dripping,” he says, his voice rough. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take care of you.”

  Which is when I say something stupid. “Take care of me?”

  The air gets strangely heavy, and then Wolf takes his hand away and shifts me so I’m sitting up. I bite my lip as my ass comes into contact with the hard muscles of his thigh. My stupid hands, with a mind of their own, once again cross themselves demurely over my lady parts.

  His eyes go there, lingering a good long time before he lifts them to my face. I don’t understand his expression until he says, “Dani. Tell me you ain’t a virgin.”

  Oh god, I am such an idiot. “What?” I stammer.

  “Fuck. You are.”

  I flinch at his tone. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Not a damn thing, you wanna live in a convent.” He sets me on my feet, facing away from him. “Get your clothes on.”

  Confusion, hurt, and humiliation battle inside me as I fumble with my clothes, hissing out a breath as my tight jeans encase my ass once more. When I’m covered again, I don’t wait for him. I go straight to the door.

  It only opens an inch before he closes it again, his hand holding it shut, his big body right behind me. “Dani.”

  “Let me go, Wolf.” I hate it that my voice shakes.

  “Listen to me.”

  “No!” I should have known better than to trust him with any part of me. “Just — fuck off. And leave me alone.”

  “Dani.” His voice is gentle, heavy with what sounds like regret. I can’t stand it, can’t bear his pity, his condescending kindness.

  “Go to hell!” I scream it so loudly the whole compound must hear me. When I wrench at the door again, he lets me get it open.

  Nor does he stop me as I race out of the room and down the hall. There are Firestorm members in the room with the bar and the pool tables; they watch in silence as I rush past them and outside.

  Getting through the crowd, with so many of my family there, is like running a gauntlet. I ignore all the worried faces, all the hands reaching out to me, and dodge my way through them until I reach my car.

  When I climb into it, I have to suck in a breath when my freshly-spanked ass hits the seat. Across the compound, Wolf is surrounded by Adamo men. They’re not hurting him, but they’re not letting him near me.

  I start my car and tear out of the parking lot, blinking away angry tears.

  3

  Just To Spite Me

  That night, I wake up every time I roll over in bed. And every time, pathetic woman that I am, I remember what happened and cry tears of self-pity until I drift off to sleep again, only to wake once more.

  By morning, I’m exhausted, angry, and determined. Wolf did me a favor; even after eight years of trying, I wasn’t over him. What he did last night tore my girlish infatuation to shreds.

  When I stagger into the kitchen, my coffeemaker has given up the ghost. Crap. Today of all days, I have to have caffeine.

  I have a meeting downtown near Revved café, so I decide to stop in there and have coffee and breakfast beforehand. Except when I get there, the parking lot is so full I have to leave my car around the side of the buildin
g, in the fire zone, and cross my fingers I don't get a ticket.

  Inside, the dining room is stuffed to the gills and the waiting area is packed. Dammit. Maybe I can just get a coffee to go.

  Erin comes over, and then it hits me that coming to Revved was not the brightest idea I’ve ever had. She and two of my cousins’ fiancées work here as waitresses, and all of them were at the Firestorm compound last night. “Are you okay?” she says softly.

  My throat closes over. “I can’t talk about it.” Crying at home is bad enough; I’m not about to do it in public.

  “Okay.” Her hazel eyes are worried, but at least she’s not pushing. “We’ve got a twenty-minute wait right now, or you can squeeze in at the counter.”

  "I'll do that. Thanks." There’s only one empty seat, between two men in business suits. When my ass hits the chair, I feel the lingering soreness from last night.

  Pain — the emotional kind — and anger lash through me. This is good. Every reminder of what happened will only strengthen my resolve.

  Gina, a curvy redhead and my cousin Carlo’s fiancée, brings me a menu. “You know we’re here for you if you ever want to talk,” she says quietly. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please. Thanks, Gina.” I don’t have to tell her that my gratitude applies to both things she said.

  Intent on the menu, I don’t pay any attention to the guys on either side of me, until I become aware that one of them is watching me. Just what I need. I’d like to ignore him, but I’m not going to be rude just because I’m in a bad mood.

  I glance his way. Nicely dressed, probably in his thirties, thick blond hair, gray eyes with a darker ring around the edge of the iris. Handsome, in a pleasant way.

  He smiles at me, and it’s a nice smile, warm and open. I smile back, partly out of politeness and partly because his smile seems genuine, not calculated.

  “Busy in here,” he says. “But worth the wait. Great coffee, great food.”

  His voice is pleasant, too. “Definitely worth it,” I agree. “Best breakfast in town.”

  “Paul Edmonds,” he says, holding out a hand.

  I like his handshake, nice and firm but not too hard, no macho bullshit of trying to crush me. “Dani Adamo.”

  This is the sort of man I should be looking for. A nice, steady, normal professional. Someone I can introduce to my family.

  As I told Mickey that night at the club, my male cousins being members of an MC is fine; me dating the president of said MC, especially given our age difference, is a whole different thing. But I don’t have to worry about my parents’ attitudes toward Wolf anymore.

  I wish I could be happier about that.

  “So what do you do, Dani?” Paul asks.

  “I’m an architect.”

  His smile broadens. “Really. I manage the city planning office’s housing division.”

  “Oh! Then you’ve seen my work. I designed the development going up in the Havenhill district.”

  “That’s an impressive set of plans,” he says.

  I smile again. “Thanks.”

  “An Antonio Adamo project, isn’t it? I assume he’s a relation of some sort?”

  There’s no hint of censure in his voice, but I explain anyway. “Tonio’s my cousin — and in case you’re wondering, he had the identifying information removed from all the plans before he and his team reviewed them. They had no idea which one was mine. And to be totally honest, I never expected to win the job.”

  “You were up against a lot of competition?” he surmises.

  “Yes, and all of them more experienced than me, since I’m just starting out. But I had an advantage, being local. I was able to incorporate local materials into my design, and even bits of history from the neighborhood. I worked my ass off on those plans, but I still feel fortunate.”

  The guy on my right leaves, and almost immediately someone else slides in to take his place. I don’t look that way because I’m still focused on Paul.

  He grins. “There’s nothing wrong with family helping family, so long as the work is up to par — and yours certainly is. But I’m sure it’s gratifying to know that you won the job on the merits.”

  I don’t answer because two things happen at the same time. My right arm starts to tingle, and a familiar scent reaches my nose. One I encountered just last night, when I was far too close to a certain Viking biker.

  Slowly, I turn my head, trying to convince myself it’s just my imagination. But it’s not. Wolf is sitting next to me, and it’s his heady masculine scent that’s distracting me, his large male presence that’s making me tingle.

  His jaw is tight and the look he sends Paul is far from friendly. I resist the urge to say something catty, but I’m thinking it. He had his chance, and he threw it away.

  Gina comes over with a menu. Her eyes flick over Wolf, then to my face, which I know looks no happier than his. "Coffee?" she asks him.

  "Thank you, darlin’.”

  I grit my teeth. Same old Wolf, easygoing with everyone but me. Gina looks to me. “Are you ready to order?”

  No doubt it’s foolish of me, but I can’t sit next to Wolf and have breakfast like everything is fine. The pain is still too fresh. Until it dulls — and maybe forever — I need to go back to completely avoiding him.

  Wishing I could have had another cup, I swallow the last of my coffee. “Sorry, but I have a meeting to get to, so I’d better be on my way.” I pull out some money, toss it on the counter, and slide from my seat.

  Paul’s watching me, his eyes going back and forth between me and Wolf. “Paul, it was nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

  With that, I sling my purse over my shoulder and walk out, not sparing Wolf another glance. All I hear as I make my way along the front of the building is the sound of my heels on the pavement. Not until I’m around the corner do I sense a presence behind me.

  I whirl, and Wolf is on me. “What the fuck was that?” he demands.

  What the hell? “That was me leaving. What did you think it was?”

  “You left without eating.”

  I stare at him. “Yeah, so?”

  "So you're startin’ your day without the fuel you need just to spite me."

  My hands go to my hair. If not for my pending appointment, I’d be tearing it out in clumps. “I have a mother, Wolf. I don’t need another one.”

  Wolf's eyes narrow. “Trust me, Dani. I ain’t your mother.”

  Isn’t that the truth. “Good. I’m glad we agree.” I start toward my SUV, but his hand clamps onto my shoulder and turns me back around.

  “We need to talk.”

  “No, we don’t. There’s nothing to talk about. You made yourself abundantly clear last night.”

  A voice off to our side says, “Is everything okay here?”

  4

  The Man Responsible

  Both our heads turn sharply. Paul is standing a few feet away, arms folded, frowning. “It’s all right, Paul,” I tell him. Wolf doesn’t speak, but I can feel anger coming off him in waves. I hope Paul doesn’t push it.

  He pushes it. “Do you need me to call the police?”

  Wolf’s big body seems to get even bigger. He’s not tense, though; he’s relaxed, loose, ready for anything. It’s the stance of an experienced fighter, a man who knows exactly what he’s capable of.

  Paul isn’t a small guy — he’s probably six feet, with a decent build — but Wolf would wipe the floor with him.

  “That’s not necessary, Paul. Really, I’m okay.” I keep my voice calm and level and hope that convinces him.

  It doesn’t. His eyes move to Wolf, and they go into a man-to-man staredown. Crap.

  After about two seconds of this, Wolf has had enough. “She told you how it is. Move your ass along.”

  Paul scowls at him, then glances at me. He’s clearly looking for any excuse he can find to stick around, but I’m not going to encourage him. I give him a tiny shake of my head, and he gives in.

  “You know
where to find me,” he says. “If you need me, call me. Anytime, Dani.”

  I give him a small smile. “Thanks, Paul.” Finally, reluctantly, he turns and walks away, but he looks over his shoulder at us before he rounds the corner.

  As soon as he’s gone, Wolf says, “Come back inside.” It’s an order, not a request.

  I glare at him. “Not happening. We gave up our seats, and you saw the crowd in there.”

  “There’ll be room at the counter.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But it doesn’t matter. I have an appointment."

  “Who with?”

  “None of your business.”

  He backs me up against the side of the building. My heart starts pounding, and dammit, it’s not from fear. “Do not fuck with me, woman.”

  “Seriously, Reid, it’s none of your business.”

  His blue eyes throw sparks at me. “I told you not to call me that.”

  Pain and rage go to flashpoint. “Don’t you dare talk to me about keeping you at a distance after what you did last night.” My voice, my face, they’re telling him too much, but I can’t help that.

  A muscle works in his jaw. “Who’s the appointment with?”

  I throw up my hands. “God, you’re annoying.”

  He gets a glint in his eye that tells me he’s going to make an issue of it whether he has the right to or not. I don’t have time for this. "Fine. I'm meeting a potential client at the Belladonna office building."

  "Why aren't you meeting him at your office?"

  "I'm meeting her there because it’s near the freeway, and she’s leaving for another appointment out of town right after we talk. Happy now?" I fold my arms, still glaring at him. "I have to go."

  He moves back and lets me by without another word, watching as I get in my car and pull away, trembling from too much emotion. As I drive, I force Wolf out of my mind and focus on the meeting.

  Despite my lack of sleep, the appointment goes well, and we agree to follow up in a few weeks' time. When I emerge from the small conference room, a voice calls, “Miss Adamo?”