Brann
F irst ride around the island this year, bike rumbling between my thighs, is a glorious, freeing feeling. And a great way to shake off the image of the woman from the coffee shop earlier. I hate the way I was pulled toward her, like my feet didn’t belong to me. It’s the type of feeling people say when they tell stories of meeting their fated mate. What a load of malarky. I don’t believe in fated mates, unlike the rest of Moonfang Haven. And children are nowhere on my list of things I want in my life. Gross.
Passing the trailhead for one of my favorite hikes, I turn the bike around and head back. Judging by the late afternoon sun, my timing is almost perfect. If I’m fast, I can make it to the top by sunset. A no-brainer decision. One other car in the parking lot. Perfect. I’m in no mood for chit-chat or tourists.
Heart thumping from sprinting straight up the trail, I’m sweaty and exhilarated. That on-top-of-the-world idea is literally me right now. And I’m cheesy enough to own it, at least on the inside, as I breathe deep. There’s an intoxicating scent in the air; I try as hard as possible to ignore it.
Rocks crunch behind me, pulling me from my reverie as I take in the scene of our small-town harbor below, bathed in the last vestiges of golden light. Apparently, I was so caught up in myself, I didn’t hear or sense anyone else around.
Turning is the wrong move.
So wrong.
Upon seeing the other person, I spin back to the scenery.
Gods damn it.
“Hello, pretty view, isn’t it?” Her voice is hesitant, but even still, an entrancing melody. I grunt a nod without looking at her. “I’ve never seen a sunset like this. I’m just blown away by how gorgeous this place is.” There’s something about the breathlessness of her voice that pulls my eyes back to her. “I don’t mean to ramble. I’m just so excited that I’m here; this place is like a dream.” That funniness in my chest is back from earlier today, one that threatens to overpower me. She steps closer to where I am. Heatwaves radiate off her, enveloping me in her fire.
“I am very lucky to live here.” Neutral , I tell myself. Steady and neutral. I maintain neutrality to avoid all the things in life I dislike. Mainly—neediness and children. The sunset of pinks and oranges is nothing compared to her. Walk away. Turn around. Move, you big oaf.
My body betrays me in every way. I can’t look away from her. My eyes drink her in like she’s water after an excruciating trek across the desert. Noting the way her muscles flex and her curves beckon. The way her shirt is tied at her waist, showing a sliver of skin. It’s the type of thing that would topple an entire empire. And her scent—it beckons to me. Sunshine, fresh berries, vanilla. It’s an elixir that has my soul yearning for her.
A step forward. She matches my step with her own. Again. Again. We’re almost toe to toe, and the near proximity is painful. Flex my fingers at my side in order to give my hands something to do that isn’t touching her. Her dark eyes track the motion, then soak me in, ending with a fiery look in her eyes as she says quietly, “I don’t ever do this. It’s like I’m under a spell. I don’t know what this is, but yes.”
There are no more thoughts in my mind as I set my hands on her waist and drag her into me. I know what this is, and I hate it and love it at the same time. The same song of fated mates singing in my blood has drawn her to me. A confirmation that if I continue, I’m going to regret this. Her hands make their way to my arms, burning my skin with her touch.
I could say no. Walk away. Nothing has ever felt as good as her touch. Try to remind myself why I scoff at fated mates. Why I’m still single after all this time.
Her, my heart sings. I growl at my heart, and she takes it personally, digging her nails into my biceps—clinging on. Pick her up, she wraps her legs around my waist, squeezing with her thighs, making me grunt in approval.
Standing there at the cliff, overlooking the southeastern edge of our island, the sky deepens to purple, I kiss the woman whose legs are wrapped around me like a viper. She tastes like she smells—sunshine and strawberries, and I lose my mind trying to hold her up and touch all of her at the same time.
“You feel like perfection,” I mumble against her skin as I scrape my tusk up her neck. Mine.
“Less talking,” she says, untying the knot at her waist, pulling her shirt up and over her head and throwing it to the ground. Her black sports bra is the sexiest clothing I’ve ever seen. When she puts my hand on her breast, I sense magic envelop us and I stumble. “Bench,” she says into my mouth as she kisses me again.
Somehow, we make it to the lookout bench. I sit and she straddles me, pushing against me for friction. The desperation in her touch makes my cock ache harder. Her breath quickens as she finds a rhythm, coming apart in my arms from humping against me. Gods, this woman is everything. I want to roar in delight.
She stills, whimpering, “Please.”
The please shoots through me like an arrow, touching some piece of me that lies dormant. Who knew one word would make me want to upend the entire world for one person? Every fiber in my being wants to please her, take care of her any way she wants.
Grasping the top of my pants, she fumbles with the button and zipper. Hands on hers to still them, I grunt, and she moves off me enough to let me pull my pants down to my ankles. The greedy look in her eyes as she gazes at my cock makes it twitch. Makes me preen like a peacock on display. She licks her lips and I swear my pride puffs up even more.
Her eyes lock onto mine, a question in them. I nod, ignoring the way my lips want to curl into a smile. It’s enough communication that she straddles me again, sinking onto my cock. I fully expect the heavens to erupt into angelic singing.
“So tight. So good,” I rasp, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she gasps at being so full. We’re slow. Excruciatingly slow, but we find a rhythm as she slowly consumes my cock with her pussy. It’s embarrassing that just the act of being full hilt inside her makes me want to blow. But I hold tight, letting her wet little pussy slide up and down my shaft.
When the pace picks up, that’s all it takes. I pinch her breasts under her bra and she cries out. It’s a chain reaction. Her cry sends me over the edge. My orgasm triggers her second. And we roar together at the moon and the first star visible tonight. My seed overflows from her onto my thighs.
There’s no talking after. She climbs off of me, her hair swinging into my face as she navigates my legs, the mess, and the sheer relaxation she running through her body. Her mouth makes sounds that sound like pure contentment. They make me want to pull her back into me and pet and stroke her until she’s fully come down from the high.
Instead, she pulls up her leggings and I let her, watching by the light of the moon. Her body sways a little as she puts her shoes on and walks over to grab her shirt, shakes it out, and puts it on. When she checks her watch and curses, a dumb feeling of wanting to solve her problems overtakes me. I ignore it.
Once I’m buttoned up, I walk after her as she starts down the trail at a jog. I have to bite my lip not to shout out about being careful. Would hate to end this evening with a trip to the hospital for a broken ankle.
The moon shines down on our vehicles. She beelines straight for hers. My fucking body wants to follow her like a pathetic puppy, wanting to know her name, wanting to follow her delicious scent home. And I let myself. She’s mine and I can’t let her go . Need drives me closer.
Until she opens the car door, and the interior light illuminates her car, including the booster seat for a kid in the back. I am rocked back to my senses. Shit-fuck.
I let her get in and drive away without another word. She’s just a tourist. I’ll never see her again. Doesn’t matter if my heart says she’s important, the one. Because that’s never going to happen.