26. Luna
Black satin slips down my body like water.
Thin spaghetti-straps hold the skin tight silk up on my shoulders, the back scoops low, dipping all the way to the base of my exposed spine. The neckline is low too, a V shape that covers only my breasts, then hugs the rest of my dips and curves all the way down to the floor. My black hair is down in loose waves, and the front sections are pulled back, fastening at the back of my skull with a large, white, silk bow with long tails that hang down my spine.
“I can’t wear those shoes,” I say quietly, staring at Wolf over my shoulder in the reflection of the mirror. “They’re too high,” I tell him, referring to the shoes that Haisley sent over for me.
We had breakfast the morning before she left, and I think I liked her a little more than the day before. Seeing her with Thorne made me more comfortable too. She looks at him like sunflowers look at the sun.
“They are too high,” he agrees from his seated position on the end of the bed where he ties the final knot in his shoelace.
His huge, muscular body is dressed in a white, long sleeved, button-up shirt. Pressed black slacks, polished dress shoes, black leather with black laces. A very large gold watch on his wrist, and black hoops through the piercings in the cartilage of his ears. His styled stubble is neat, black hair down, just the way I like it, a centre parting, and grease pulled through the lengths, so it tucks neatly behind his ears.
He looks perfect.
“That’s why I also bought you these,” he smiles, climbing from the bed, and hooking a pair of pointy toe, flat, black, silk shoes from a box on the floor I hadn’t seen before.
“Oh.”
“Lift your foot,” he instructs, his warm hands sliding down the outside of my legs as he drops elegantly into a crouch at my back.
Pressing my fingers against the wall beside the antique mirror to steady myself, I lift my foot. Wolf’s large hand sweeps along my skin, his thumb pressing into the arch of my foot as he places my toes inside the shoe, buckling the small strap that threads around the back of my ankle and placing it down. He does the same to my right foot, the small train of my dress hitched up around my knees, the excess hooked up over his shoulder.
Wolf runs his large, calloused hands up my smooth legs, under the black silk, his thumbs tracing the crease between my cheeks and thighs, he squeezes my hips, hitching the fabric up higher and higher as his thick fingers ascend.
“Wolf,” I breathe out, bowing forward as he gently parts my thighs, dropping down onto his knees, and pushing his tongue up and into my cunt.
“Mm,” he hums, not commenting on my lack of underwear once again, he never scolds me, never mentions it, never makes me feel embarrassed. “Always so wet for me, Little Moon,” he rumbles against my wet flesh, sending me lurching forward as he grips my hips tight and licks a hot, wet stripe up the length of me, making me shudder. “We don’t have much time before we need to leave,” he chuckles, dipping his tongue into my hole and suctioning his mouth over me. “But I think I’m going to take you to dinner with a little piece of me dripping down your thighs, baby girl. How’s that sound, Luna?” he rumbles. “You want that?” he breathes, licking and sucking at me, one of his fingers meeting the swollen nub of my clit.
“Yes,” I tell him desperately, my eyes bulging as I stare at him in the mirror, revealing the sight of his giant hand cupping my pussy.
“I can’t hear you,” he mumbles over me, his lips a delicious torture. “Tell me louder, baby girl.”
“Yes!” I squeal loudly, lifting up onto my toes.
“That’s better, Luna,” he praises, my fingers bending backwards as I lean into the wall, his calloused finger rubbing firmly over my clit as he fucks me with his tongue.
When he sucks my wet flesh between his teeth and bites down, he slaps the heel of his hand over my swollen clit and sends me careening over the edge.
He’s inside of me before the stars clear from my vision, fucking up into me only once, twice, and then he’s shooting his cum inside of me, painting my clenching walls as I squeeze his cock so hard he grunts against my throat. Sinking his teeth into the slope of my shoulder, and sucking hard on my skin.
“I love you, Wolf,” I tell him, staring into his eyes through the reflection of the mirror, his mouth still attached to my shoulder, those warm, whiskey eyes lifted up onto mine.
He detaches his teeth, kisses the side of my head, and sucks on my earlobe, all whilst holding my gaze, unwavering and whispering truth in my ear, “I love you, Luna.”
Unconsciously, I stop walking as we arrive at the restaurant.
Nerves flitter around inside my belly, and despite Wolf reassuring me everything will be fine, I feel uncomfortable. I’d rather be back at Cardinal House, sitting amongst the graves and watching the sun set.
Wolf’s hand squeezes comfortingly in mine, both of us staring up at the small, romantic looking building, baskets of bright flowers hanging on either side of the door, a red and white striped awning over the entrance. It’s lovely, but I don’t want to go inside. But then Wolf’s stepping in front of me, his back to the restaurant, towering over me so he’s all that I can see.
“You’re missing something here,” he tells me quietly, tracing the fingers of his hand not holding mine across the hollow of my throat.
“What?” I frown up at him, but I’m blinking hard just once and I’m unsure if the frown even shows, but he only smiles at me.
“This,” he says, reaching into his black, suit jacket, and pulling out a long, emerald green, velvet box.
“Wolf,” I breathe, staring down at the diamonds as he pops it open one handedly.
“There’s studs in there too,” he says casually, releasing my hand and picking one of them out. “Put these in.”
I take the small, diamond, stud earring braced in gold from his fingers and push it into my lobe, doing the same with the next. Then he turns me around slowly, my back to his front, and slips the necklace, a line of diamonds from one end of the gold chain to the other and secures it at my nape. It sits in the hollow of my throat, casting rainbows across the polished black paint of the car as the evening sun lowers and hits the clear rocks.
“Thank you,” I whisper as he turns me back to face him, his big hands wrapped around my biceps.
“Almost as beautiful as you,” he smiles, kissing the tip of my nose, and stepping back.
My cheeks heat and my heart swims, and I forget all about my anxiety as Wolf leads me into the restaurant.
A man dressed in a black suit greets us politely and leads us to Wolf’s family. He weaves us through empty tables and chairs, no cutlery or napkins or menus laid out, making me stare out across the large space with confusion.
“Wolf,” I start, but he’s already smiling when I look up at him, his pretty honey eyes focussed forward. “It’s closed isn’t it?”
“Yes, Little Moon, it’s closed,” he chuckles, glancing down at me with a wink, leaning down to whisper into my ear. “You think I’d let you come to dinner with my cum running down your thighs with strangers around?”
“Yes,” I state simply, and he’s jerking his head away with a barked laugh and a soft shake of his head.
“Fuck, you’re perfect for me,” he beams down at me as we reach the table full of the Blackwells.
After being re-introduced to Wolf’s father and brothers, except for his youngest brothers, Arrow and Raine, who are noticeably absent. Meeting his sister-in-law, Grace, along with her and Hunter’s three children, Atlas, River and Roscoe. Thorne and Haisley’s engagement dinner goes well.
The table is surprisingly calm.
The three young boys are well behaved. Even Roscoe, who is sitting in a wooden highchair beside his father, is patient and smiley as he plays with a pink spoon and feeds himself his food. Atlas is quiet, one hand always in Grace’s, and River, who is apparently also lovingly nicknamed Trouble, sits himself in his father’s lap and shreds the colouring sheets the waiter laid out for him instead of colouring them in, he stabs them with a metal fork too like he’s trying to murder the paper. Not that anyone looks concerned by it, so I decide not to worry either.
Archer sits beside Stryder, who sits opposite me, but despite his polite smile, he doesn’t seem to really want to be here. He has hushed conversation with his father, picks at his food, and downs pints of beer between courses without taking a full breath between gulps.
Haisley sits on one side of me, Thorne at the head of the table beside her. Her conversation is light and quiet, polite, kind. I wish I hadn’t upset her with the dead rabbit, even though it wasn’t entirely my intent, and when I tell her so, Wolf’s father, Stryder’s forkful of food pauses midair, hovering halfway to his open mouth, as Haisley chuckles lightly with a shake of her head.
“I’m used to worse things being a member of this family,” she tells me lovingly with a bright smile, “I’m not worried about sick bunnies having their necks snapped.”
I offer her a small smile in return, thinking of the bones breaking, the way it felt like a rushing vibration up my arm, and then hurry to pop a bite of creamy pasta into my mouth to smother the inappropriate curl of my lips.
Wolf’s hand is on my upper thigh, his fingers splayed possessively over the entirety of my upper leg, and I feel relaxed, falling into what feels like easy conversation with Stryder, as Wolf converses with Hunter.
I can’t help but keep glancing at Grace though. Her pretty eyes are unusual, both of them different colours, but it’s the icy-blue one, that I can’t help peering up at every now and then. It’s so much like my own, it makes me feel a little warm inside. Maybe I’ll find a kindred spirit in her.
Her hand rests over the large bump of her belly, a pretty white dress sculpted to it. I think about the baby in there. A girl, she said with a warm smile, who will be born into this family. A doting mother and father, three older brothers, who, from the way Atlas, the oldest of their three boys, keeps stroking his mother’s tummy, will be fiercely protective of her.
I’m not sure if I grew up with siblings, but the organ in my chest feels tight with want for one. Suddenly, I feel incredibly lonely, realising that the world really is a very big place, and I am, in fact, a very small part of it.
There’s a very strange feeling in my throat, a tightness that makes my skin itch and my heart flutter, and I’m pushing up from the table, clanging glasses together as they slosh with wine and water.
Blinking hard, I keep my head lowered, “I’m sorry,” and I realise with horror, that I’m waiting for something in return for my rudeness.
A punishment.
Wolf stands with me, his hand coming to mine, “We’ll be right back,” he tells his family calmly, without making a fuss, pulling out my chair quietly, so I can move away from the table.
Wolf leads me down a short, cosy hallway, before pushing open a wooden door that leads into a bright bathroom. He lets me enter first, pushing a lock across the door at his back.
“Come here, baby girl.”
Wolf opens his arms wide, thick muscles bunching under his smart, white shirt, and when I step into him, those arms closing around me, I take what feels like my first deep breath of the night.
“You’re okay, Little Moon. I’ve got you, take your time,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head, his hands a strong, hot heat over my bare spine. “I’ve always got you, baby.”
He lets me close my eyes, sinking into his hold, his warmth drawing me in deeper, his strong body opening up to me, embracing me, cloaking me, shielding me.
I take long, deep breaths, breathing him in, lilies and teakwood, a strong, rich, masculine, scent with a subtle floral fragrance to break it up.
I could fall asleep like this, his hold firm and tight without squeezing, my face over his heart, the solid beat of it drumming loud in my ear, soothing me into a tranquil calm.
My monster.
“I feel better now,” I tell him quietly, after who knows how long, but he still doesn’t rush me, holding me nice and tight, his back resting against the door, his chin on the top of my head.
“We can take as long as you want.”
“I know,” I say, pulling back a little, so he can lift his chin.
Wolf stares down at me, the point of my own chin resting against his sternum, his warm yellow gaze flickers over mine, checking my truth.
I hear him saying it inside my head before he speaks, but he says the words anyway, “Blackwells don’t tell lies,” he smirks down at me, this decadent curl to his plush lips.
“I’m not a Blackwell,” I respond, in the same way I always do.
But then he says with a sharp smile, “Not yet.”
He doesn’t give me enough time to react, to feel shy, for my cheeks to flush pink, because he presses his mouth to mine, slipping his tongue between my lips and devouring me like he’s never tasted anything so sweet. He leaves me gasping and breathless when he breaks off the kiss, my eyes still closed, and his arms still embracing me. Curling me up into his chest and keeping me safe.
In this moment, I don’t think about my memories, my past, all of the things that keep flicking through my mind, making me feel unsteady with the world and my place in it. Because Wolf Blackwell is mine and I am his and nothing could ever possibly ruin that.