Page 24 of Below the Shadow of the City

CHAPTER 24

THURSDAY, EARLY NOVEMBER

R ecipe number five is well under way, now. The maple pumpkin pie is about to be slid into the oven and I’m tidying up while I wait for it to preheat. It’s gotten easier and easier to come to Maddox’s place for this. I know that his generosity isn’t solely because he has a kitchen almost the size of my apartment. And I know it isn’t because I’ve repaid him in sex each time I’ve come over. Though I’m sure he wouldn’t complain about that aspect.

I’ve never been with someone that my body fits so well with. Our rhythms, our energy, our orgasms are all perfectly synced. They shouldn’t be, he’s so much larger than me, his biology offers different things. Even in the impossibility of it all, it works. When he knots me my body grips around his in a way that makes me feel like he’s an extension of me.

Sex is still so much easier than letting my feelings show. My body does a better job of showing affection than my words do.

Tonight, he’s cleaning up behind me, obsessed with having “something to do” while I cook a vanilla bean custard to be turned into an ice cream. Every so often I steal a glance at him, still amazed at the marvel that is Maddox. When I hand him the spoon and ask him to stir the pot so its contents don't burn, his massive hand dwarfs it. His tail sways back and forth as he hums along to the music coursing through the speaker system in his apartment. His tongue sometimes flicks across his fangs when he’s particularly interested in the process, or me, or both.

This beast of a man towers over me, yet has an ever-present playfulness that makes even the most boring of baking related tasks better. It’s especially apparent when earlier tonight he had decided to put on “One Day More” from Les Mis and perform every single part for me. Enthusiastically. And shockingly well. I know the entire song by heart myself, and my heart tugged at me to join along with him. I couldn't bring myself to completely let loose. When Maddox caught me mumbling the words, he smirked. But he never pushes.

He never pushes anything, truly. It’s wonderful to have someone be so tender with me.

I’m staring at him, and he catches it.

“What?” He laughs.

“Nothing,” I answer meekly, my skin tightening around my cheeks in a sheepish smile and my chest warming.

Maddox gestures to the empty bowl beside me, “is that good to get washed?”

I had forgotten what I was doing. The sounds of him cleaning have served as white noise to my thoughts wandering. Unsurprisingly, they’ve wandered to him, over and over again. I nod, and he reaches towards the bowl. The fur on his arm grazes against me when he wraps his hand around the lip. I shiver at the feeling of his touch, even though we’ve done much more than merely brush against one another. He jerks back himself, and our eyes meet like we’ve just created static electricity together.

This domestic dance is a glimpse of all I’d ever dreamt of. I’m in a beautiful kitchen, recipe testing for a cookbook, with an attractive partner who would give me the moon if he could. I probably have a vision board from college stuffed in the back of my closet with this exact scenario. I couldn’t be happier, even if it’s not as simple as a collage of photos on poster board.

Everything has an asterisk. The beautiful kitchen isn’t mine, the recipe testing is because I’m under a time crunch of my own making, and the handsome man isn’t really a man at all. It all comes together and is perfect in its own way.

For years I tried to follow a recipe to make my vision board become real. I told myself that if I did things right I could avoid heartbreak and failure. When I followed the recipe and things still didn’t go how I wanted, I gave up. Just like baking, in life you have to trust the process and yourself. Sometimes things go wrong, even if you thought you did everything right. I didn’t follow any tried and tested recipe to get here. I ignored instructions, I overthought things, and despite it all, I have exactly what I wanted.

There’s still the tiniest devil on my shoulder whispering that it’s going to all crash and burn, but it's getting quieter and quieter. I know that what we’re doing now in his apartment is something very much reserved for committed couples. Of course he wouldn’t let me in on a whim and use his kitchen for this project if he didn’t want me around. He wouldn’t suggest naming one of the recipes “rom com confession cake” if he didn’t think there was anything meaningful between us.

As I flick on the oven light I know that I want every evening to be spent in the warm glow of his brick-walled apartment. When I see how my mixer fits on his countertop I silently wish that this place would someday belong to both of us.

I’d been wiping the counter in the same circle over and over again without realizing. I don’t notice until Maddox stands beside me and lays his palm atop my hand. “I think that spot is clean enough by now,” he rumbles. I glance down at the wet spot I’ve made with the rag. The pie is sitting on the counter, there are a few hours before we can tuck into it.

“You’re probably right,” I laugh.

“Are you good? You’re sort of in a…daze.” He waves his hand in a circle around my face.

“Just thinking,” I answer with a lightness in my voice to throw him off my scent. There’s an endless list of things I’m thinking about, it’s a comically long receipt that keeps printing and printing with no end in sight. Much of that melts away when I feel his presence near me. If only my anxious thoughts could be dulled this easily all the time.

“Hmm, a dangerous thing for a woman such as yourself,” he sets his jaw with a smile and dries another pan. He doesn’t know the half of it.

“You know, this entire cleaning process would be easier if?—”

“I had ‘fae magic,’ so I hear,” he wryly chuckles. “The joke doesn’t get funnier the more you tell it, you know.”

“I can certainly try,” I say. He shakes his head and wraps his fingers through my hair, pulling me closer to him.

I glance up at his massive form standing before me. Some days, I forget entirely that he’s something feral and foreign. Right now I’m deeply aware of his “otherness.” I swallow a lump in my throat I didn’t realize was there as he looms before me in the kitchen. Even now, fleeting thoughts wonder if we’re one kiss away from him turning into a handsome prince. I remind myself, he’s already a handsome Prince Charming. Just with a few…additions. I can’t say that I’m all that mad about them.

His tail flicks restlessly as he hums along to the music playing. There’s constantly music in the background of everything we do in this apartment. The first time it started trickling out of every corner of the main living space I naively asked if it was magic. He laughed, guffawed, actually, and said it was an expensive Bluetooth speaker setup. It took far longer than it should have to accept that his existence in the realm below is entirely devoid of any magic.

It feels like something downright magical when he crosses the kitchen and stands above me. His fingers find my waist like his leathery finger pads are magnetic to the curves of my body and he lets out a satisfied sigh. When he touches me warm fog settles in my brain like it’s a harbor on a fall morning, stilling the waves tossing me about. I lean into his touch like it’s the easiest decision in the world.

If I don’t crane my neck my eyes are directly fixed on his massive chest. His shirt strains across it, so taut I could probably bounce a nickel off the fabric. The cotton stretches and strains with each of his movements and it’s a terrible temptress. I wish to whatever deities I can think of that it would split and tatter off of him right now. I bite my lip, and Maddox’s eyes darken into a whirlpool. His nostrils flare, I know he can smell my arousal, though he’s never been so uncouth to mention it.

When I slide the pumpkin pie from the oven and set it on the counter to cool, his hand props against the wall behind me, effectively trapping me before him. Not that I’d even consider running now. When his palm hits the brick I jolt and heat swirls in my stomach. My lips part, and he takes a step closer as his eyes track from my lips back up to my eyes. I stand on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose. The skin there is soft and pebbled, and always cooler than the rest of him.

“How much time do we have?” He breaks the silence with his playful ask, his deep voice broken up with a jovial lilt. His free hand reaches behind him and he anxiously rubs the back of his head, I watch his fingers run through his mane.

“Two hours until it’s set and cool enough to eat,” I sputter, already having forgotten about the aforementioned pumpkin pie that I slid gently onto a shelf in his fridge. My stomach is in knots, I’m oddly nervous being in his presence. I know what’s going to happen next, and how we’ll be spending at least one of those hours.

“Enough time for an appetizer and a main course, then,” one of his fangs sits higher as he gives me a devious smile. My thighs twitch, and I nod vigorously, my body reacting before I can think to shit talk his incredibly bad joke.

Before I can so much as take a breath, I’m tossed into the air and over his shoulder. I let myself go limp, fighting back is useless, so I give his ass a playful slap since it’s within reach of my fingertips. He laughs wildly and strides down the hallway to his bedroom.

“I can walk, you know,” I huff.

He dismissively grunts in reply, then tosses me atop his bed. “This way is much more fun for me, though. You get all pissed and flustered and pretend to be mad but I know you secretly love being a helpless little maiden swept away by the ferocious creature.”

He leans in and kisses my forehead, I roll my eyes at him. Unfortunately, he’s right. I readjust, ready to let the beast do his worst and ravish me entirely.

His chest finally breaks free of his shirt as he pulls it over his head, and he stands at the foot of the bed, inspecting me. I’m still fully clothed, in leggings and an old t-shirt I didn’t care about getting covered in flour and other baking remnants. Maddox watches me, intently, waiting for me to take the next step. I could feign helplessness and get him to do it, or I could hasten this process and rip my garments off myself. I’m mesmerized by him, the way his shoulders bulge out from his solid chest, and how it tapers down to his narrow waist. His entire body is pure muscle, and I question where the endless desserts he packs away disappear to. My breath quickens again, biology is getting to work.

In layers, I slide each article of clothing off, baring myself for him in the physical, easier, way. Maddox watches, his thumb hooked in the waistband of his boxer briefs. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he purrs.

There’s a twitch in my chest to counter that with a self deprecating joke. I stop myself. It’s easy to deny the words alone, but the way his gaze is focused to me, and the way his eyelids hood lazily, even my most conspiratorial brain can’t dismiss how much he believes the words he’s speaking.

My leggings, shirt, bra, and underwear drop to the floor one by one as I strip them off and hunger grows in Maddox’s eyes. He steps to me, hooking his palms around my waist and his claws dig into the small of my back. He lifts me so my body is pressed against his and he rubs his face against my bare shoulders and sternum, drawing lengthy kisses along my goosebump covered collarbone. My legs hook around his waist, the ridges of his ab muscles tease at my clit. I already know I’m leaving a wet trail on his torso, and all we’re doing is holding each other. I tilt my neck back, giving him more space to cover my skin with his tongue and lips and fangs.

He turns and drops me onto the bed again. I keep my legs spread and he dips his head between them. He presses his thumbs into my thighs as he pushes me further apart. His tongue drags up and down my slit a few times before he thrusts it into me. His nose pushes at my clit as he works his tongue in and out. I’m writhing around on his bed, losing control of myself from the sensation of him tasting me.

His tongue dips in deeper, and I crash. My inner walls pulse around him and my legs shake and he continues to drink me in.

He emerges and grazes his lower lip with his thumb. “If I didn’t need to breathe I could drown myself in you,” he moans. “I could bury myself between your thighs and only taste and smell you and I’d die a perfectly happy man.” He then reaches up and pinches my nipple between two claws and I release a tiny yelp. The sharpness of the action surprises and arouses me and my brain grows fuzzy. He chuckles at my reaction, then climbs up beside me on the mattress, letting his fingers graze over my bare torso. Everywhere is an erogenous zone now, and I shiver.

“Can you get on your hands and knees for me?” He growls against my earlobe after pulling me in for a kiss. A spark is lit between my thighs. Yes, please, anything, my body whines for him. I nod.

Maddox pulls back and cups my face. “I’ve told you, Sigrid. You need to say it.”

“You want me to beg you to fuck me from behind?” I sass.

His thumb brushes across my lips. “Now that you mention it, I do want to hear you beg for it.”

“You want me to tell you how badly I want to be on my hands and knees while you fuck me and knot me? And how badly I want to hear you growl my name while you come?”

“Precisely,” he shakily inhales.

“Maybe I could show you how badly I want it? Since it seems like you have a pretty good idea already.”

“I think that could work for me.”

I flip over and plow my face into his pillows, burying my head in the cool cotton while my ass is upright. He palms each cheek, growling coming from his chest.

He stands and positions himself behind me. I hear swishing fabric sounds as his pants drop to the floor. I sense his heat behind me, and it’s so erotic to feel his presence without seeing him. Without his face in view, his growls are more feral, his claws are sharper, and his cock that's teasing my opening feels bigger.

Two fingers pet me from behind, stroking gently. We’d found workarounds for the whole claw thing, angles that work for us without him tearing my labia into ribbons. My head buries deeper into the pillow and I moan into the fabric. With his free hand, he reaches beneath me and massages my breast, all the while his cock drags along my slit.

It is almost too much, and the heat of my breathing into the pillow flushes my face as I weep for him. I shake and shudder and fall apart on his fingertips.

“There you are,” he marvels. “This perfect pussy, this perfect woman, all mine. What a fucking honor.” He glides into me, hot and thick and wonderful in every sense.

“Yes,” I weep into the pillow, “I’m yours. Maddox…”

“Say it again, louder. I don’t give a shit if my neighbors hear.”

“Maddox…” I say again, turning my face out from the pillow into the air, “I’m. All. Fucking. Yours.”

His thrusts into me are slow, but decisive. They serve as a reminder of his immense physical power over me and I don’t think I’ll ever get over how good he feels inside me. Each thrust of his is a punctuation to a sentence that doesn’t need to be said.

“Sigrid,” he grunts, “I’m about to lose it because of you.” His thrusting quickens.

“Come for me, Maddox. Come in me, p-please,” I moan. I feel his knot swell and he spills into me. He half-moans, half-roars when he comes, loud enough that it reverberates in my ear drums. I come alongside him, my knees buckle and he holds me upright.

“Fuck,” I cry out.

Maddox eases us onto our sides, his cock still firmly wedged within me.

“I really regret not being able to see your face right now,” he pants against me.

“I’ve been told this is the better of the views,” I laugh.

“Not true, because no one has seen your eyes grow wide or the droop of your lips when I ride you. And god, the way you get all starry eyed when you come is the hottest fucking thing.” My thighs clench and my walls close a little tighter around him. He readjusts and the knot grows bigger, placing a nearly painful amount of pressure on my insides. If we weren’t in this predicament I could just as well go for another round, and I grind myself against him to tease him and dispel some of my energy.

Maddox groans, “if you keep that up you’ll be stuck like this forever.” His muzzle brushes against the nape of my neck. The soap he uses has faded, and a masculine musk envelops my senses.

If I had to pick a way to be trapped for eternity, it certainly would be wrapped in the muscular, soft arms of Maddox. If the only thing I felt from this day forward was his body pressed against mine and the heaving of his chest, I’d die happy.

“I don’t think I mind that fate,” I say lazily. “I…really fucking love you, Maddox.” He pulls me closer and he lets his claws graze the dip of my waist, his lips graze my neck as he whispers ‘I love you’ over and over again.

He relaxes onto his side, fingertips tracing the curve of my arm. “I usually wouldn’t mind us being stuck like this either, but you do have that pumpkin pie in the fridge…”

I playfully swat at his hand. “You seriously are already thinking about food?”

“I worked up an appetite! It’s ok though, hearing you tell me you love me makes me feel fuller than any fancy pie could,” he laughs.

“That is so unbelievably corny,” I snort.