Gotti's mouth claimed hers again—savage this time, teeth clashing, tongue thrusting deep like he meant to fuck her mouth the way he planned to fuck the rest of her. Anita moaned into it despite herself, the sound muffled and needy, her body already betraying every lie her mind was still clinging to.
Her wolf was loving every moment of this unplanned assault, her ceter leaking and soaking up her panties. Anita was ashamed, yet she couldn't help herself.
Gotti broke the kiss only long enough to growl against her throat, "You don't get to run or hide from me, mate. Not anymore."
His hand—the one that had been palming her so possessively—slid lower. Rough fingers yanked the waistband of her leggings down just far enough to bare her ass and the soaked cotton between her thighs. He didn't bother stripping her fully; he didn't have the patience. Instead he shoved the fabric aside and cupped her pussy in one hot, calloused palm.
Anita gasped, hips jerking forward into his touch.
