Chapter 87

Ava

The fading sunlight caught the vibrant green in Chris’s eyes as he gently laid me down on the bed, the sound of the nighttime crickets filling the quiet of the space. Outside, the world was going to sleep; but, like the crickets and other nocturnal creatures, Chris and I were only just getting started.

I propped myself up on one elbow and watched as he crossed over to the freshly-fixed window and began to close the blinds. The hard planes of his muscles bulged beneath his white t-shirt, which was made sheer by the sunset so that I could see everything underneath.

“What?” he teased, catching my eye when he noticed me staring. “Something on my face?”

I shook my head and chuckled. “I’m not allowed to look?”

“I never said that.”

Chris’s voice was husky, his steps slow as he meandered back to the end of the bed. He carefully grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, tousling his hair along the way. A moment later, he stood shirtless in front of me in all his muscular glory.

“There,” he muttered, tossing his shirt to the floor. “Now you can get a better look.”

“I’ll say.” I pushed myself up to my knees on the end of the bed and drank him in with my eyes, running my fingers up and down the various muscles on his body—his abdomen, his chest, his biceps. I wanted to commit all of them to memory.

But then my finger hit something soft yet raised on his midriff, something that stood out from the rest. I felt my heart sink ever so slightly as my finger lingered there, hovering just above the scar that he now sported from that fight in the woods.

“I know it’s just a small scar now,” I mused, biting the inside of my cheek, “but it still makes me angry that they pulled that dirty trick.”

Chris quirked an eyebrow at me. “I turned out fine. And besides, I sent those guys running for the hills.”

“I know you did. But it’s still upsetting.”

With a sigh, he caught my fingers in his hand and pressed them to the scar, forcing me to feel the raised flesh there. Then, slowly, he drew them upwards, up toward his shoulder, and then up to the crook where his shoulder met his neck.

“Feel that?” he asked, tilting his head to the side so I could get a better feel. “Right there… That scar?”

I furrowed my brow, pressing my fingers deeper into the taut, warm flesh of his neck—and then I felt it. Another small scar, barely visible from the surface, but it was there.

“What’s this from?” I asked.

“I got into a scrap after one of my first racing wins. My opponent wasn’t happy,” he mused, releasing his iron grip on my hand. “But you should have seen the other guy.”

As he spoke, he gently pressed his fingers into my shoulder, pushing me back down on the bed. I watched as he carefully unbuckled his belt, then the button of his pants, tugging them down to reveal the delicious v-line of his groin.

“Have you gotten into a lot of fights?” I asked, beginning to work at my overalls as well. “Back in the human world?”

“I try to get into one a year, at least,” he teased, slipping his pants down and discarding them on the floor. “Keeps the heart pumping.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his obvious Alpha male posturing. “You’re a dog. I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, quirking his lips upwards into that infuriatingly handsome smirk of his. I felt my cheeks tinge pink as I finished unbuckling the straps of my overalls and he suddenly grabbed the ankles, sliding them off in one fell swoop—and leaving me laying there in nothing but my white tank top and panties.

Without a word, Chris slowly climbed onto the bed, crawling toward me on all fours until he was positioned between my legs. His fingers then trailed toward my panties, slowly stroking along the lace trim around my thighs.

“My second fight was at a house party,” he mused, either ignoring or not noticing my shivers as he moved his fingers along the tendon at the inside of my leg. “But…”

He paused then, momentarily pulling his hand away as he met my gaze with that damned smirk again. “...Maybe I shouldn’t tell you. You wouldn’t like it.”

My hips involuntarily bucked up a little as if my groin were consciously trying to make contact with his fingers again. “Tell me.”

His smirk grew, and he gave in to my aching. He stroked his fingers along my panties, right over the wetness that had already accumulated there, as he spoke.

“It was over a girl,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he stroked me. “I made the mistake of dancing with her, not knowing that she had a boyfriend.”

“And?” I asked, more interested in the way his fingers felt on me than the story that I still didn’t fully believe.

He grinned widely. “Once again, you should have seen the other guy. I always win a fight.”

Clicking my tongue, I grabbed his wrist and yanked him closer, causing me to fall on top of me and cage me onto the bed with his bare body. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I tugged him closer until his ear was in line with my lips.

“Liar,” I whispered.

Chris let out a low, throaty groan that made my back arch of its own accord. Wordlessly, I slipped my hand down into his boxers, feeling his heat there. Goddess, he was already fully hard for me.

I couldn’t wait any longer. Slipping my panties aside, I tugged the waistband of his boxers down to expose his full, throbbing member. He groaned again as I grabbed the thick shaft and gently swiped the head along my wet pussy, causing me to be the one who smirked now at the sight of his strained expression.

“I’m ten years your senior,” I murmured, gently moving the head of his cock up and down across my lips. “I can tell when a man is posturing to make himself look better. Don’t forget that.”

Chris let out another low moan, his tousled blond hair falling into his eyes as he nodded hastily.

“Yes, my Luna,” he murmured—in an almost pained voice just at the yearning between our groins.

Despite my ears turning bright red at his words, I managed a wry smirk—and then, pushing my hands into his chest, I roughly pushed him onto his back, not that he resisted. I straddled him, but then paused, letting my pussy hover just above his throbbing member.

I watched, smirking, as he dug his fingers into my hips and pushed his head back into the mattress.

“Why?” he groaned, gritting his teeth. “You can’t go acting like that and then just sit there.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “No reason,” I muttered, tracing my fingers along the scar on his abdomen. “Just checking out your scars. I’m sure you have many from all of your fights.”

Chris threw his head back as I lowered myself onto his cock. Slowly, methodically, I began grinding on him as I lifted my shirt off over my head, all the while watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed helplessly with each ragged swallow.

But my bravado didn’t last long. Because soon, once he had collected his bearings, his fingers dug deep into the flesh of my hips and he propped himself up on his elbows, those green eyes of his glinting.

“I always win a fight,” he growled.