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“Someone wants to play, hmm?” I ask as I pinch her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

She rocks her hips before her hands slam onto my chest. Her claws digging into my pecs drawing beads of blood. I hiss through my teeth.

“Oh, I want to play,” she whispers seductively. “Now, why don’t you be a good boy and fuck me like you want to mark my soul with your seed.”

Fuck that’s hot and definitely her wolf and not her, but I’m here for it. Rolling us over, I hook both my hands behind her knees pushing them towards her shoulders. This angle is deep, her pussy practically sucking me in. Pulling me deeper with each thrust.

“Reach down and rub your clit Leni. You seemed to really like that earlier. I’m not going to last much longer at this rate.”

Swiping her fingers through our juices, she circles her clit before rubbing it in time with my thrusts. Her pussy grips harder and harder with each thrust. I know she’s as close as I am.

“Come with me,” I say through clenched teeth.

With one last thrust, we both explode. Ropes of cum pumping out of me as she clenches around me. Moaning, I shove hard, pushing my swollen knot into her. Locked together, she milks me for every single drop of cum I have.

Our chests heave as we stare at each other. My chest already healed from where she clawed me, only the dried blood remaining. She rolls her hips and I let out a string of curses.

“Fuck, don’t do that. Unless you want to go again, you have to wait for it to deflate.”

“Who said I didn’t want to go again?” she practically purrs before she rolls us again, putting her back on top.

“Be a good boy and hold on.”

She thrusts her hips and I’m instantly hard again.

Chapter 20

Selene

Friday, July 18th – The Morning After

For the first time in weeks I woke without the looming nightmare chasing me awake or the cryptic words of the shadow figure ringing in my ears as I blink my eyes open. The slow rise and fall of Caelon’s chest accompanied with his warmth almost pulls me back under as I lay here basking in the comfort of his arms.

I lift my head up and stare at his sleeping face. Calm, serene, and without his normal wrinkles of confusion as he watches everyone interacting. I might not have spent as much time watching him as he spent watching me, but that doesn’t meanthat I never saw him. Even if he did everything in his power to be unseen by everyone.

A strand of his hair has fallen down on his forehead, something I never would have imagined seeing on him. He’s always had the cleanest clothes, his hair slicked back, and nothing out of place.

My fingers itch to mess his hair up more, to completely undo him, more than we did yesterday. Tentatively, as if the slightest movement might take this moment from me, I slide my hand up, watching his face to see if he reacts, and I hook the strand of hair around my finger. The soft, brown hair slides through my finger before he turns his head, sighing in his sleep. His eyes flick behind his eyelids as he dreams.

Leaning back, my eyes roam down his chest following the path that my finger lightly traces. Exploring the body of my mate without the interruptions of other activities. My cheeks warm at the thoughts of everything that we did yesterday. I never imagined in any dream of my mateship that it would have gone the way it did, but I love every second of how it played out. Even this quiet moment where I’m watching him sleep and exploring.

His skin pebbles as my fingers trace down his chest as he sighs and rolls over. Not wanting to wake him, I slip out of bed slowly. The cold, hardwood floor greet my feet as I move across it. I’m going to need slippers if I’m going to live here. There is no freaking way I’m going to pad around this house everyday with cold feet.

Grabbing my leggings, I slip them back on and quietly slip on my t-shirt before slipping into his closet to hopefully find a hoodie. Goddess, what temperature does he keep this house at, sixty? Thankfully, right at the back of his walk-in closet is a stash of dark hoodies,and pulling one off the hook, I slip it on over my head. Glancing around, I look for a dresser, or maybe somewhere he keeps socks. His dresser is right along the walloutside his closet door between the closet and bathroom. Not sure which drawer will have socks, I go with the top one. The first drawer was unsuccessful. The next drawer is heavy as I pull it towards me. What does he have in here?

My mouth drops open as I let out a gasp. Glancing behind me quickly, I make sure that I didn’t wake him. The drawer is full of all kinds of my things. From pictures I’ve taken and lost to my first piece of pottery I made and hated. I can’t help my hands shaking as I reach down pulling out the misshaped piece of clay that my mom swore was amazing. My eyes glance between it and the man sleeping on the bed. How long has he known and not said anything?

Quietly, I slide the piece back into the drawer and push the drawer closed again. I’ll have to ask him about it later. For once, I want to be the one sneaking around and learning about him without his knowledge. Thankfully, the next drawer has his socks. Rows of neatly bundled together white and black socks fill the drawer. I mean who literally stacks their socks into perfect rows like this? This man is going to freak when he realizes that I live off the floor and my laundry basket. Matching socks? Who has the time for that? If they are clean and without holes, then I’m golden.

With my feet covered in socks, I pad my way out of the bedroom. Slowly closing the door behind me, holding the door knob open until I can gently slide it back in place. His house practically mirrors my parents' home, ith his bedroom being on the back left corner of the home and the bathroom separating the master from the extra bedroom. Of course when I look into the bathroom it’s like nobody has ever used it, let alone that it’s someone’s bathroom. The extra bedroom is the same way. The bed is perfectly made, even with the comforter tucked in under the mattress. The basic furniture lines the room. With nothing personable about the space, I shut the door and move down thehallway. Taking my time because there are actual pictures on the walls here unlike the entire rest of the house. I stop at the first one and my hand flies to my mouth. These aren’t just any pictures. These are my pictures. One’s that I gave Lou to have developed. Some of these have never been seen by anyone else. I glance down the hallway to where he’s sleeping. How does he have these?

They are all photos from our valley. The largest one, right dead center of the hallway, is my favorite picture of him. From when I asked him to slowly walk through the fog towards me. He knew all along and still played along with my crazy demands. My finger traces along the back of his wolf reminiscing about that day. It’s when I really started to question who he was and why I hadn’t ever seen him before.

I continue walking down the hallway, assuming that everything else in the house will mirror my parents. Everything was such a blur last night when we rushed in. I didn’t care about the things on the walls, where certain rooms were, and I definitely wasn’t looking for his kitchen last night. But, in the light of the day, while he rests, I’m looking.

His kitchen is exactly how I imagined it would be. With gray washed cabinets, butcher block countertops, and open shelving with his dishes neatly displayed. There isn’t a single dish in the sink, not a speck of dirt on the counter, and no leftover food sitting around. Everything is put away, giving this kitchen a very home magazine feel. Like everywhere else in this house, it lacks the feel of someone living here. As if he could sell it tomorrow and not need to move stuff out. Every dish has its place, all perfectly curated.

Except for one shelf.