Page 17 of Christmas with a Chimera (Claw Haven)

S he rode him into the cabin’s plush carpet, teeth bared.

“Say it,” she told him.

He stared up at her, claws digging into her hips.

They still had their shirts on, having barely managed to get her sweatpants off and his pants around his knees before she sat on his cock, so deep and fast it stung.

He’d had to hold up her thighs, lowering her down until her pained gasps turned to sighs.

He was still staring, mouth hanging open to expose that beautiful pink tongue.

She worked her hips faster. “I said say it .”

“I missed you,” he said instantly. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

She yanked her shirt up and her bra down, thumbing her nipples, trying to find the furiousness from before: biting his lip as he carried her inside, shoving him down onto the carpet so hard he grunted.

But he was so huge inside of her, hitting her sweet spot every time she moved, not to mention that face.

Those big golden eyes kept ruining it. He gazed up at her so tenderly.

Every time his eyes squeezed shut on some glorious flex of her hips, he forced them back open.

Like he wanted to look at her as much as he could.

Drinking her in to save for the drought later.

“Please,” he gasped. “Shit, let me touch you.”

She moaned, feeling him throb inside her. “You are touching me.”

His big fingers flexed on her hips. “All of you. Please, I want it so bad. You’re so beautiful.”

Beautiful . He could’ve said hot or sexy or anything else, but he had to go with that sweet word.

She bit her lip. She kept telling herself this was going to be impersonal, angry, rough . But every part of her wanted to let him wrap her up in those stupid warm arms like he used to. Let him take care of her like he always did.

“Goddamnit,” she panted. “Fine.”

His hands were off her hips instantly. Sliding up her stomach, feeling the pouch that definitely wasn’t there when she was nineteen, cupping her breasts with something that looked a lot like reverence.

He touched her thighs, pocked with fresh claw marks.

Then, like she knew he would, he ran his hands down her spine and sat up, burying his face in her neck. Holding her close.

Emma groaned into his mane as he started to take over, bouncing her in his lap. His hips moved in small, minute thrusts like he knew he wasn’t supposed to but couldn’t help himself. His thrusts grew stronger when she didn’t tell him to lie back down and cut it out.

She was thinking about it. It just felt so damn good being surrounded by him again.

Nobody held her like he did, tight and satisfying.

Nobody fucked her like he did, impossibly huge and deep while he let out these helpless little growls against her cheek.

He smelled like the expensive fur creams he’d brought along from LA, but underneath it was the scent she’d fallen asleep with for so much of high school. Just Arthur—stripped bare.

She stilled, letting him drive harder into her. She could feel the start of a knot at the base of his cock, just barely catching on her rim with each thrust.

“Knot me,” she gasped.

His hips faltered. He pulled back, looking down at her. “You sure?”

She nodded fervently.

Arthur’s golden eyes snapped shut, a groan forced between his fangs. He buried himself deep inside, holding her so tight it hurt.

She moaned helplessly. She’d missed this. Being crushed close, his arms shaking around her as his cock swelled. Tiny, jackrabbiting thrusts before his hips settled against her. He slumped, nuzzling her cheek.

“Emma,” he whispered. “Emma.”

She closed her eyes. She could feel his heartbeat matching hers, their ragged breathing coming in time. She’d forgotten what it felt like, being so close to someone you felt like you were one person.

Arthur kept muttering, the words mostly lost against her cheek. But not all of them: her name, of course. But also can’t believe and feels so good and missed you.

Emma swallowed, trying to stop shaking. “Have you done this with anybody since me?”

She half expected him to scoff and tell her of course he had. The other half of her, the part that wasn’t insecure and seething, expected nothing more than the incredulous laugh that rumbled through his chest.

“ Pfft , sure. All knotting, all the time.” He pulled back, his jokey smile going soft as he gazed up at her. “Come on, Emma. You think I’d let myself be like this in front of anyone else?”

Emma stared at him, stunned. She knew it, but there was a difference between knowing something and hearing someone say it.

Arthur’s soft smile twitched, his ears flattening bashfully. “Uh, anyway. What about you?”

“Getting knotted?” Emma shook her head. “Nope. Just you.”

“Oh,” Arthur said quietly. “Good.”

He swallowed. For a second, she thought he would take it back or ease the way with a joke. But he just lay there, his furry chest heaving and his swollen cock trapped inside of her.

“Good,” he repeated before burying his face back in her neck.

* * *

“Huh,” he muttered a while later.

She made a sleepy noise into his chest. “What?”

He nodded toward the giant window. “It’s snowing again.”

Emma turned. The snow was soft and silent, coating the white ground outside. Beyond the glass, Claw Haven glittered in the evening light.

Arthur ran a hand through her sweaty hair. “I wasn’t going to sleep with you, you know. When I invited you on that tour. I wanted to talk. To make things right.”

Good luck , Emma didn’t say. There was still that sting of betrayal, but it was harder to find amongst the wash of endorphins.

Emma wanted to believe him. To believe the way he’d looked at her while she was riding him, the way he was still looking at her now.

His eyelids drooping, still trying to force himself to stay awake. Wanting to look at her a little longer.

Emma sighed. “You did love me, right? Back then. It was real.”

Arthur’s arms tightened around her, wings flexing like they wanted to follow suit. “Of course it was real. Why would you ask that?”

Emma shrugged.

Arthur laughed, thin and flinty. “Was I that bad of a boyfriend?”

“No,” Emma admitted. “You just—you left .”

She grimaced. It came out just as whiny and high school as she feared. That teenage bullshit she’d been running from was still there, she’d just grown around it. She’d made such a fool of herself yelling at him on the street, like all those old wounds still mattered.

Arthur was silent. He actually sounded guilty as he said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Emma scoffed.

“No, seriously,” Arthur argued. “Come on, Emma. I had to follow my—”

“Heart?” Emma propped her chin up against his furry chest.

“Dreams,” he corrected. He ran a hand down her back, pressing his trimmed claws into the faint dents he’d left in her skin.

Emma tried not to think about how fast they would fade. “Is it everything you wanted? Being an actor?”

“Acting is great,” Arthur said. He grinned, eyes creasing. “You know me, I’m an attention whore. The riches aren’t bad, either. Or the awards. The travel, the cities. I really think you’d like LA if you gave it a chance.”

Emma snorted, remembering that city. The trash, the dumb stores, the weird fashion, and the crowds she still had nightmares about.

“I did give it a chance, remember?”

“For one week!”

“That doesn’t matter! I hate that place and it hates me.”

“Emma. Come on—”

“My home is here,” she insisted, staring out the glass at Claw Haven gleaming below. It looked so small from up here. There were no towering monuments, no glamor. The crowds were condensed into one tiny street. She’d grown up here. She never wanted to leave.

“I love it here,” she said. “I know you think it’s boring, even with the updates.

But I just… I love it. It’s part of me. Even when there’s nowhere to get food after 10:00 p.m., and it doesn’t get many movies, and there are no museums. I like the people, even if they piss me off almost as much as the tourists.

I wake up every morning, and I walk through the streets I’ve been walking down my whole life, and I look over at the mountains, and the ocean, and the forest, and I feel…

I don’t know. Like I belong. Like I’m at peace. ”

Arthur was quiet. Emma looked up and found him gazing out the window with her, his expression unreadable.

She dragged her fingers through his chest fur. “Is it peaceful in LA?”

“No,” he replied. She expected him to shoot her a rakish grin and say that was what he liked about it. Finally, a place big enough for Arthur Pineclaw. But he just lay there, stroking her naked back absentmindedly, staring out over their hometown.

“I did miss you,” he said finally. “There hasn’t been anyone else like you.”

“I bet not,” she said flatly. She propped herself up on her elbows, clasping her hands under her chin like Luna had done to her at the café days ago. “ Oh, Mr. Pineclaw, you’re so dreamy! Can I get a photo? Can I touch your mane? You’re soooo amazing. ”

“Alright, they’re not all like that,” he said, jostling her. “Seriously, though. Nobody takes me to task like you. Maybe I—”

His phone rang in his pocket, his jeans still stuck halfway down his thighs.

They stared at each other.

“I can ignore it,” Arthur said quickly.

“No, no. Might be something important, Mr. Bigshot. I need to shower anyway.” Emma shifted, testing the knot. It wasn’t gone, but it had gone down enough for her to slip it out. She eased herself off gently, both of them wincing as the widest part slid out of her with a slick pop.

* * *

He was still on the phone when she headed out of the bathroom, half dressed, toweling her hair dry. She could hear his voice from the hallway.

“No,” he was saying as he paced the kitchen. He sounded like he was throwing something in the air—maybe an orange, he always used to mess around with the fruit bowl when he was bored as a teenager.