Chapter Six
Preston just stood in the kitchen, staring at the open fridge. Zeppelin had stocked him so full the damn shelves looked about ready to collapse. He hadn’t had this much food in probably ever, and he had zero clue what to do with it all.
Three loaves of bread? He’d never finish them before they turned green.
The fruit would rot before he’d made a dent, cheese would get that weird funk, and the pile of vegetables would wilt and die.
Zeppelin meant well, sure, but this was overkill.
Preston was not a linebacker prepping for a season.
He could try to eat it all, but the only thing he’d win was twenty extra pounds.
Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Zeppelin rearranged the cupboards, arms flexing in order to find room for… What exactly was he going to put in there?
Hell if Preston knew, because his brain sort of short-circuited every time Zeppelin moved. The guy’s back was to him, and all Preston could do was stare.
If Zeppelin only knew how hard Preston had fought not to haul the sexy god into his bed this morning.
Or let Zeppelin stay in the bedroom while Preston changed out of his towel.
Never in his life had he been so attracted to anyone the way he was to Zeppelin.
“I’ll be right back.” Preston hurried from the cramped kitchen, needing a moment to himself.
A moment just to breathe without inhaling Zeppelin’s scent. A dark, rich, earthy musk that never failed to make Preston half-hard.
“Get a grip,” he muttered, closing his bedroom door behind him.
His gaze landed on his unmade bed, his thoughts drifting to this morning when Zeppelin had woken him up.
He’d met the guy less than twenty-four hours ago, and already Preston was so thirsty it hurt.
He jumped when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. His dad’s relentless texting was wearing thin on him. He wished his father would just leave him alone.
Even so, Preston pulled out the device to see what unreasonable demand his father was making.
Except… it wasn’t him.
A smirking emoji was on the lock screen. And the message?
It’s adorable the way you think you can outrun me, sweetheart. Yet, I keep finding you. See you soon, handsome.
Antonio.
Preston dropped his phone as a bone-deep shudder tore through him. He’d managed to make it weeks in Crimson Hollow without a single peep from his ex.
Was Antonio hunting him, closing the distance, or just tormenting him for the thrill? Preston couldn’t tell. He never could.
The last time Preston had seen him in the flesh was two months ago, outside a grimy Kentucky motel. He’d only just begun running—a month into hiding, nerves still raw and frayed—and there Antonio stood, across the cracked asphalt, framed by flickering gas station lights behind the motel.
Thankfully, Preston had left his car packed, only taking a kit bag inside for a shower and change of clothes.
He didn’t linger, didn’t look back. Simply slammed the door, keys shaking in his hands, and peeled out of the lot, barely missing a passing truck as he hit the highway. No checkout, no backward glance. Just distance and the echo of Antonio’s shadow chasing him down the road.
Now Antonio was at it again, taunting him, playing his sick little games, and Preston… The truth was, he had no idea how to stop any of it, no idea what would finally put an end to this madness.
And Preston’s father? Derek Montgomery thought his son was exaggerating.
Overreacting. A little paranoid, maybe even a touch unwell.
Because men didn’t obsess over other men.
Not in a sexual way. Not in any way Derek could wrap his mind around.
Antonio, after all, was built like a linebacker.
He projected swagger and attitude, the sort of toxic bro that Derek found manly.
Around Preston’s dad, Antonio knew exactly what mask to wear.
He’d read Derek in a heartbeat and slipped seamlessly into the role of the “straight” friend, the guy who just wanted what was best for his “buddy.”
Preston had tried to tell his mom what was going on, to see things for what they really were. But even she couldn’t see past the mask. Somehow, Antonio had fooled her, too. She thought Preston was going a bit too far accusing Antonio of stalking him.
How could they not see it?
Every time Preston got off of work, Antonio would be there, waiting for him on the porch.
No matter how much distance Preston tried to put between them, Antonio always slipped through, twisted his words, left Preston doubting even his own memories.
Always, always using Preston’s weakness against him, as if Preston’s anguish was vital to him, something he needed and savored.
No matter how many times he racked his brain, Preston couldn’t figure it out.
What had he done? What reason could there possibly be for Antonio’s obsessive fixation with him?
He turned it over and over, sorting through the past, the memories, but nothing ever made sense.
The connection between them—it shouldn’t exist. Not when they’d dated for only two months.
And yet, Antonio wouldn’t let him go.
Sitting on his bed, Preston dropped his elbows to his knees and buried his face in his hands.
His feeling of hopelessness felt suffocating as he cried, no longer able to swallow back his tears.
The hopelessness was suffocating. It pressed at his chest, squeezed his breath to nothing, until he broke, silent tears slipping through his fingers.
* * * *
With a sigh, Zeppelin closed the cupboards.
Not a damn thing he’d bought from the farmer’s market could be stored in them.
Rearranging things had only been an excuse to be in the kitchen with Preston.
Zeppelin was trying, and failing, to come up with a way to tell his mate that he was a wolf shifter.
But ever since they’d come back that afternoon, Preston had done his best to keep his distance, though Zeppelin had caught his mate sneaking looks at him more than once.
Maybe the best approach was just to get it over with.
There was no gentle way to tell Preston what he was.
No matter how Zeppelin said it, the human was going to lose his shit.
After shooting off a text for Quinn to pick up Zeppelin’s motorcycle and leave his SUV, he glanced at his mate’s sad appliances, then left the kitchen.
Preston wasn’t in the living room. The place was so small there were only two other rooms to check. That, or his mate had found a way to make himself disappear.
A quick peek in the closet-sized bathroom told him that his mate had to be in his bedroom.
Turning in the cramped hallway, Zeppelin lifted his hand to knock when he heard the unmistakable sound of a phone clattering to the floor.
He started to barge in, but a fallen phone wasn’t exactly a harbinger of disaster.
Preston might’ve accidentally dropped it.
But Zeppelin’s gut told him otherwise. He knocked on the closed door, hoping Preston wouldn’t be annoyed at the intrusion. He’d clearly needed some space if he’d shut himself in his room.
The soft sound of his mate crying made Zeppelin’s jaw tightened. He pushed the door open and spotted Preston perched on the edge of his bed, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach.
Preston’s head snapped up. He quickly wiped at his eyes then grabbed his phone from the floor before sitting back down. “Did you need something?”
To kill whoever has made you cry.
Crossing to the bed, Zeppelin sat next to his mate, forearms resting on his knees, fingers entwined. “I got massive shoulders.” He pointed to each one, as if Preston had no clue where they were located. “Pretty strong too. It takes a lot to make them buckle.”
His mate glanced at him. “You have the strangest way of saying you have a shoulder to cry on.”
“I wasn’t saying that.” Zeppelin reclined against the headboard, resting his laced fingers over his abdomen. “Who says I want your tears getting my shirt wet?”
Just as he’d hoped, Preston edged back until he was leaning next to him. Zeppelin’s boots hung off the foot of the bed. Preston’s feet just reached Zeppelin’s knees.
“Then what’re you saying? I don’t speak biker jargon.” Preston picked at a loose thread on his jeans, refusing to look up at him. “Or was that some kind of lumberjack language?”
Zeppelin chuckled. “Lumberjack?” He tilted his head and rubbed his beard, like he was giving it some serious thought. “I guess I would qualify since I do have a flannel shirt buried in the back of my closet.”
Preston glanced up at him beneath those thick lashes Zeppelin was crazy about. “A gift?”
Yes, you are.
“You guessed it.” Zeppelin nodded then started to pick at the frayed thread as well. “Chase gave it to me one year for my birthday.”
About six decades ago. At first, Zeppelin thought it was some kind of gag gift, until he’d seen the pride in the wolf shifter’s eyes.
It was a miracle Zeppelin could put it on.
The fabric had squeezed his torso so tightly he thought he’d have to have it surgically removed.
To this day Vaughn brought it up. He just knew Zeppelin would turn him into a pelt if he reminded Chase about his long-forgotten gift. Hopefully it stayed forgotten.
“You ever wear it?” Preston’s finger kept touching his as they picked at the denim fray. He noticed his mate was purposely touching him, like he needed the contact to ground himself. His mate could touch him anytime he wanted.
Zeppelin held up his index finger. “The day he gave it to me. He sucks at guessing sizes, because he bought it a size too small. I walked around all morning looking like an overstuffed plaid sausage. Buttons were straining so hard I thought they would become projectiles and knock one of my men unconscious.”
“You’re lying.”
“You think I’d make up something that embarrassing?
” He leaned in like he was telling his mate a secret.
“Just do me a favor and don’t ever tell him I want to set that fucking shirt on fire.
I think it deeply traumatized me. Anytime I see plaid I break out in a cold sweat and my muscles try to shrink in on me. No guy likes shrinkage.”
Preston laughed—a genuine, head-thrown-back laugh—that carried a brightness that felt alive.
Zeppelin’s shoulders shook as he chuckled, his chest aching in the best way.
There was no defense against that kind of beauty.
It was like the world had stepped back just to let Preston exist. His gaze dipped to the slim column of his mate’s throat, imagining how it might feel beneath his lips.
He grazed his knuckles over his mate’s abs, feeling them clench in response to his touch.
“Zeppelin,” Preston moaned.
“Do you want me to stop, love?” He grazed his fingers again, smiling when Preston’s breath hitched like his whole nervous system was being rewired.
“No.”
Zeppelin leaned down, tasting the soft skin just below a delicate ear, savoring the whispered moan that followed.
His tongue slid across a twitching jawline, staking his claim with every press of his fingers into soft flesh.
If this was what his mate needed in this moment, Zeppelin wouldn’t deny him.
Because he craved his mate just as much.
“I want you,” he whispered into Preston’s ear. Into the most sensitive stretch of neck where breath hits skin and the brain short-circuits. “Tell me this isn’t what you want and we’ll stop.”
His mate curled his arms around Zeppelin’s neck and peppered kisses along his jaw. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”
He still needed to tell Preston he was a wolf shifter and they were mates. That’s why Zeppelin wasn’t going to take this too far. Until they sat down and talked, he wasn’t going to claim his mate.
Because he respected him. Wanted to come to Preston honest. Wanted to lay it all out before taking the final step.
But they could have so much fun doing other pleasurable things.
This afternoon was all about taking his time and exploring every inch of his mate’s body.
“Then get those tight pants off. You drove me insane, walking around those stands, your hips swaying.”
“My hips don’t sway,” Preston argued as he wiggled out of his clothes. Not just his pants. His mate even tossed his shirt aside.
“Fuck, baby. You’re gorgeous.”
With a teasing smirk, Preston spread his legs as he grabbed Zeppelin’s shoulders. His mate’s cock was hard and weeping, pulsing slightly to the rhythm of his heart.
He was going to devour his small human.
Then he was going to find out who had hurt Preston. No fucking way would he allow his mate to live in fear.
Zeppelin brushed his hand over Preston’s stomach, softly growling as he watched his mate’s nipples harden.
He licked one hard nub and sucked as Preston moaned and raked his hands through Zeppelin’s hair.
The hand still resting on Preston’s stomach moved lower until his knuckles grazed over hard, heated flesh.
Preston bucked, his hips rocking slightly. Zeppelin trailed his fingers over his mate’s balls, which were drawn up to the base of his erection. He tugged at them slightly, gaining another moan from Preston.
“Do you know how sexy you are?” he asked as he moved to the next nipple, teasing the small circle of flesh with his teeth.
“No,” his mate whimpered.
Zeppelin ran his fingers over the head of Preston’s cock, gathering the clear liquid before pressing the tips against his mate’s puckered hole and then rimming them around the tight muscle.
“Fucking beautiful.” Zeppelin gave a teasing nip to his mate’s heated flesh, sucking the nipple in and rolling it with his tongue. Preston cried out, pressing his chest against Zeppelin’s mouth.
Zeppelin lapped at the skin and then raised his eyes to stare at Preston slowly thrashing his head back and forth on the pillow. After being pushed away all afternoon, Zeppelin hadn’t thought they would end up in bed together.
It seemed his mate was full of surprises.
Fingers dug into Zeppelin’s shoulder as Preston’s eyes fluttered open. His mate glanced at him with those pretty green eyes. “Is there a reason you’re just lying there staring at me?”
With a cocky smile, Zeppelin sucked the head of Preston’s cock into his mouth. The musky taste exploded across his tongue, sending ripples of pleasure through him.
“So good.” There was a strain in Preston’s voice as he spread his legs wider, his fingers carding through Zeppelin’s hair.
His control was slipping with every needy moan, and Zeppelin had to fight back his wolf.
Using the flat of his tongue, Zeppelin traced the long vein on the side of Preston’s pretty cock.
His free hand skimmed back up his mate’s stomach and tweaked a nipple, feeling it pucker under the tips of his fingers. He was so responsive to Zeppelin’s touch, a sensual creature he wanted to bind to his soul.
He explored the man’s length with his mouth, teasing and tasting, taking Preston all the way down his throat then pulling back.
Zeppelin looked up and watched his mate watch him. Preston’s eyes held such pure heat that Zeppelin felt branded. He curled his hand around Preston’s jutting erection and licked a long path up one side and down the other, smiling to himself when his mate shuddered.
“You play dirty,” Preston moaned.
“It’s the only way to play, love.” Zeppelin chuckled.
Without warning, Zeppelin swallowed Preston to the back of his throat. His mate’s head fell back as he cried out, his hips jerked wildly.
Zeppelin was no stranger to pain, and even liked a little with sex, but the way Preston was pulling at his hair, Zeppelin would be bald by the time the little vixen climaxed.
“Ease off the hair, babe.”
“Oh, sorry!” Preston snatched his hands away. “Did I hurt you?”
Zeppelin smirked. “Hardly. I just don’t want you ripping it out.”
Preston licked his lips as he smiled. “You really do have gorgeous hair.”
“Thanks.” He engulfed his mate’s cock while inching a finger inside his tight ass.
He was fighting against the need to fuck Preston right then. His wolf snarled, demanding Zeppelin do just that. Not until they talked.
He slid his mouth back up Preston’s length before releasing the shaft. He stared down at the glistening cock, wet with his saliva. “So fucking gorgeous.”
“Stop admiring and get to sucking,” Preston whined. “If you keep teasing me, you’re leaving here bald!”
“Bossy little bottom,” Zeppelin muttered but sucked his mate’s cock back down his throat, creating a suction as he thrust his finger in and out of Preston’s ass.
“Z-Zeppelin.” Preston curled and uncurled his fingers. “Need to grab your hair for some unexplainable reason. So close.”
He just looked up at his mate, narrowing his eyes, and using his throat muscles to squeeze Preston’s cock.
“Gentle, right.” His fingers carded through the strands, his head thrown back, soft little mewls rumbling from his throat. His mate began to tremble, his legs restless, sliding back and forth.
With a wicked grin, Zeppelin inserted a second finger.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Preston’s cock pulsed between Zeppelin’s lips, cum shooting down his throat. He swallowed every last drop, groaning at how good his mate tasted.
He could devour his little human all day and never grow tired of his mate’s pretty cock between his lips.
Preston slumped against the bed, breathing heavily. But Zeppelin reared back, releasing his hard cock. “Suck me off, baby. I’m so damn close.”
Scrambling to his hands and knees, Preston took Zeppelin’s erection into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make Zeppelin see stars. He shouted his mate’s name, fucking Preston’s mouth in short bursts. His climax shattered him, making his body jerk.
Holy hell. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so hard. He felt as if he could take a five-hour nap.
A gasp drew his attention. Zeppelin opened his eyes and stared down at Preston, who was scrambling backward, eyes wide, mouth dropped open slightly.
Caught up in so much pleasure, Zeppelin hadn’t realized his canines had descended.