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His eyes didn’t leave the wok as he turned up the heat, and she squealed at the flash of fire moving up the sides of it as he expertly flipped the vegetables within.
“We don’t have a single thing in common. I need people and crowds and attention; he’s an introvert that used to stay in from recess to read in the library when we were kids. And not much has changed since then. I love him, we text all the time, but when we’re together, we have nothing to talk about.” He looked up, the sparkling smile she’d chosen more than four months ago replacing the pensive wistfulness that had lived on his face in the moment before. “It’s fine, though. We’re all different.”
She told him about summers spent with her cousins in the seaside town where they lived year-round, riding her bike to the boardwalk and the small amusement park, pretending she, too, was a townie, attempting to act tougher than she was amidst all the tourists. She picked up the julienned peppers he’d sautéed, crunching into them, ignoring both the fork and chopsticks on the countertop. He told her about shoots in Paris, and Nepal, in the middle of the desert and in the heart of the jungle, and she told him about her meticulously curated travel boards, color palettes and accessories, and photographs of the scenery of places she had never been but always wanted to see.
“We should. Go someplace, I mean. We could be on the redeye as soon as the borders reopen. I can show you everything there is to see in Tokyo, and then we’ll go to Amsterdam. We’ll ride bikes, get completely shitfaced on the Leidseplein, and watch the sunrise over the canals. We can visit the oni I know in Hokkaido, and the wolfpack I stayed with in the dolomites. There’s no reason you can’t see everything you want to see, plus all the places you’re not even thinking of.”
“I don’t see borders reopening for humans anytime soon.”
At that, he laughed.
“Ah, but you see, I’m an over-privileged punk. You wouldn’t be just a human; you’d be the human traveling with Jack Hemming’s son.”
She thought she would never get tired of the way he smelled, inhaling against his neck once the dishes were cleared away. Her heart had buzzed around her chest like a hummingbird, desperately wanting to follow the promise of his words and follow him into an irresponsible, uncertain future.
“I’m going to get greasy fingerprints all over your brother’s expensive house, and he’s gonna kick your ass,” she giggled as he scooped her up, carrying her down several dark hallways until they reached a large bedroom with an attached en suite.
“Then we’d better clean you up.”
She’d never been much of a fan of shower sex, always finding it too hard to maneuver, too nervous about falling, her ex too impatient to help her find a position she could both sustain and take him comfortably. She needn’t have worried. Lowell was more intent on covering her in a thick, rich lather, exclaiming gleefully when she was coated in white like a snowman.
He toweled her curls until they were free of excess water before laying her out in the center of the giant bed, the lattice panes of the windows behind them giving the room an exotic, cathedral-like feel, ornate and beautiful, and as his mouth moved down her body, she understood why he’d chosen this room. They were due back at the clinic in two days, and she’d not be keeping the appointment. She didn’t want to tell him now, though; she wanted to have an honest conversation when they were both vertical.
She felt as though she were buzzing. A low-frequency vibration tickled beneath her skin, and as his mouth traveled down her neck and over her clavicle, the hum followed the trail of his lips. She bit her lip, stifling her moan when his teeth nipped at her nipple, his lips sucking the bud into his mouth a moment later. The hand he pressed against her front drifted down her stomach, fingers tickling over her mound but going no further. She could not hold back a breathy sigh when his mouth released her swollen nipple; the tip hardened as his tongue stroked it.
“We’re alone,” he reminded her. “You can be as loud as you want. Frankly, if the neighbors aren’t calling to complain, I’m going to be offended.” She laughed, cutting off on a gasp when one of his long fingers pressed between her legs, stroking in the slickness it found there.
Moriah sighed again as he gently pushed her to lay back against the pillows, another finger joining the first.
“I want to hear you sing,” he whispered against her lips before kissing his way down her throat again, his fingers rubbing slow, sloppy circles against her clit.
He worked his tongue against her as if he’d been doing it for years, not just a handful of months, unwinding her like a clock. She ought to have been used to the sensation of falling by now, she thought. Coming against his mouth like dropping off the edge of a building — a breathless rush as she plummeted, liquefying on her landing as she shook against him.
It was the difference of a partner who paid attention to her, her reactions and her pleasure, she thought, and not just the finish line. Despina was right, and she knew it in her heart, even if she’d not had the courage to say it aloud quite yet. She’d wanted a baby desperately but had never been able to picture anything more than the idea. She, who was able to imagineeverything — the Azul blue and bright peacock green of the tiles in a hallowed eastern temple, the crimson scrape of the sunset sinking between mountains, and the soft golden curl of the dawn over hillsides of olive trees. She had never visited any of those places, but she could see it all clearly in her head, created her designs around them . . . but she’d never been able to picture the child she so desperately wanted.A mitigation of the sorrow. It had been a blessing, perhaps, that things had ended as they had.
He had moved her to her knees, each thrust within her dragging over her G-spot and making her gasp, the slap of skin-on-skin overtaking the sound of her heartbeat.
She could picture her hypothetical child now, though. A little boy who would be a clone of his daddy, with a sharp jaw and a sparkling smile, or a bright-eyed little girl, with a spray of freckles over a nose like hers, with her father’s dark hair and a bevy of uncles to spoil her. They would leave her each month, once they were enough, disappearing with their father to run against the wind, connected to a world of non-humans despite having her as a mother, and she would learneverythingabout that world. How to ease their sore muscles and aching bones and navigate the wolf that lived beneath their skin. She could see it clearly for the first time . . . but not yet. Not now, not for several years, perhaps. For now, though, he was right — he was right there, happy to be babied if she wanted a baby that badly.
He had shifted her again, upright, splayed over his hips, impaled on his cock, and she could tell from how his thighs tensed and shook beneath her that he was close. Every upward thrust brought her down firmly against his knot, kissing the mouth of her sex a bit more insistently with each roll of her hips. She was gasping, desperately trying to maintain her composure and keep him going for as long as possible, even though she wanted to do nothing more than sink down upon him and feel the tight, white burn of his knot stretching her wide. The heavy-lidded, blissed-out expression on his face told her he was ready for the same.
Not yet.The longer she kept him going, the harder he came. She had already learned that lesson and intended to put her newfound knowledge into practice. She wanted him to fill her to the brim, make her belly bulge with the pressure of his release, seal her with his knot and keep every creamy drop stoppered into place. She’d never had a fluid kink before, the thought of a man coming in her face or getting it in her hair making her sick, but now all she wanted was to drip with him. His fingers tightened on her hip, and she dug her nails into his neck, determined to keep him going for a bit longer.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed against his lips, the thumb at her throat trailing until it gently pressed into her pulse point. “Not yet, Lowell, please. Just a little bit more. I want you to make me come again.” In response, he bucked up into her, harder and deeper than before, and Moriah moaned as he hit a spot within her that made the world go white and sparks flare at the corners of her vision.
“Just like that. Good boy. I love the way you fuck me.” He shivered against her, and she gripped him tighter in response. “That’s what you are,” she keened against his jaw, pressing herself against him. “My good boy, my big wolf. You always make me feel so good.”
The hand that had been at her throat dropped to where they were joined, rolling against her clit, forcing her to catch up with him, and she wheezed at the sensation, bucking her hips against him. Every time she came down on his knot, he rolled over her clit, making her jolt, her lungs seize, and too soon, she begged him to finish her off.
“Come inside me, baby. Fill me up.”
She hadn’t paid attention to how close the neighbors actually were to his brother’s giant, luxury hotel of a house, but if their windows were open, they would surely hear the way she moaned when he pulled her down completely, stretching her wide, the pressure of his knot and the eruption of his cock within her enough to push her over the edge. He groaned as she clenched around him, the roll of his fingers over her clit making her shake as if she were being electrocuted. He choked out another grunt when her hand dropped, squeezing his balls as he emptied in one throbbing pulse after the next.
“I have an early meeting, so I’m going to need to slip out of here at the crack of dawn,” she murmured as she laid across his chest after the evidence of their activities was cleaned up in the shower. “I’ll try not to wake you up.”
Lowell had rolled his eyes, tucking her securely under his arm.
“Or you can wake me up so I can kiss you goodbye. That would work too.”
