Chapter Ten
Snow-White Dog Beds, Secret Serenades, and Shocking Developments
Nick
Elliot busies himself putting away everything from the fair while I lounge on his bed. My eyes follow him as he moves around the room, opening and closing the cupboard doors.
“Can’t you do this after a quick nap? You must be tired,” I try coaxing him. Mickey conked out on what I’m sure is a custom-made bed. Because seriously, who’d try to sell a white dog bed?
Elliot continues moving things around. “If I don’t do this now, the boxes will stay right there for weeks.”
“I promise I’ll help you clean up after a nap.” I make my best innocent face, blinking at him.
Elliot's gaze stops at my face for a second, considering. Then he shakes his head. “It’ll just take twenty minutes.” He breaks the box he just emptied and tosses it aside.
I flop down on the bed dramatically, watching him. Then my eyes fall on something sneaking out of one of the cupboards. I bolt right back up, my eyes wide in surprise. “Is that a ukulele?"
“Oh, yeah, I just started learning,” he says casually. What the fuck? Elliot plays ukulele? The picture doesn’t compute. Elliot, with his snides and his jabs, sat down to learn an inherently cute instrument? I mean, it’s a nice picture. Just hard to imagine.
I get up and grab the instrument, admiring it for a moment before thrusting it at Elliot, stopping him in his tracks. “You have to play for me.”
He hesitates. “I just know one song.”
I snatch the files from his hands and place them on the side table. “Play me that one song then.” Taking his hand, I pull him to the bed.
He reluctantly takes the ukulele from me, then stares at it while I sit in front of him.
I lean on my hands, watching him, mesmerized by the idea itself.
I don’t even care how he plays, but knowing Elliot, he can probably already compete professionally and win with just a week of practice. The guy never does anything casually.
His gaze flickers to my face, all his hesitation now hiding firmly behind the mask of annoyance. But I’m too excited to let him back off now. “Fine,” he whines. Then takes out his phone to open an app. “I need to tune it,” he explains.
“Right, of course.” I nod.
He takes his sweet time strumming each string until he’s satisfied. I watch his elegant fingers move over the instrument with ease, like everything he does, and suppress the urge to snatch the ukulele away so he can touch me instead.
When his phone screen goes off, I realize he’s stalling.
“C’mon, it’s just me.”
“It’s not that,” he insists, hugging the ukulele against his chest. For a man who insists on being prickly all the time, he sure makes me want to wrap him up and keep him close every fucking second. “You cannot laugh.” His voice sounds threatening, but he looks cuter than Mickey right now.
I raise my hands in surrender. “I don’t have a death wish.”
He narrows his eyes for a second, checking the authenticity of my fear. When I don’t laugh in his face, he takes a long breath and loosens his hold on the instrument.
Then his fingers fly across it, so effortlessly it's like he's been playing for years, and a vaguely familiar tune fills the room. It sounds so beautiful. I’m lost in the chords and the hypnotic movement of his fingers. It’s not until a few seconds that the music transforms into something very familiar.
I smile for a second, humming along before realizing what’s happening here. Then the strums of My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift become background noise.
Did this man really learn to play the song that was playing when we drove to our first date... for me? He doesn’t notice my hungry gaze or my heart hammering in my chest. He doesn’t notice my wolf soaring with happiness.
Mine.
Then the music stops. Elliot’s eyes meet mine with doubt. “That’s all I’ve learned—”
I snatch the ukulele away from his hands and toss it on the bed. Pushing him back onto the bed, I climb on top of him. “That was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” I catch his lips in mine, tasting his sweetness under all that delicious bitterness.
“That was just the first tutorial I found online,” he mumbles against my mouth.
I devour him, my hand seeking out his skin. I'm famished. Incomplete.
When our tongues meet, I let myself go completely, my weight crushing him. He groans, not trying to push me away. I know he loves it. He doesn't say it often, but he shows it by gripping me tighter, pulling me closer.
I trail my lips down to his neck again, chasing his blush. Then nuzzle down to his chest, taking his nipple into my mouth. His body shoots up, both hands coming down to grab at my hair. I gently bite him, making him groan out loud. I love that sound. I love every sound I can shake out of him.
Dropping a few kisses on his sternum, I move to his other nipple, giving it the same treatment.
He grabs at my T-shirt, pulling it up until it's bunched around my chest. I pull away just long enough to tug it off and throw it aside.
Then I focus on removing—
No. I need a better game plan.
“Clothes off first,” I tell him.
He nods quickly.
In a blur of movement, we're naked. Clothes recklessly scattered on the floor. I'm surprised Elliot doesn’t complain about the mess. I guess he’s just as desperate as I am.
Then he's pushing me down, climbing on top of me, dropping kisses down my body until he reaches my hard, leaking cock. He licks it up.
My thoughts blur. “Fuck. Fuck yes,” I encourage. Every nerve feels awake.
He dips his tongue into my slit, making me groan. Then takes me into his mouth. His swollen lips wrap around my cock. “Baby, you’re so good at this,” I groan. My hands grab at his hair.
He takes me to the back of his throat like a champ. His tongue rubs along my underside every time he draws back. All the while, he looks right at me, eyes blazing. “You love this,” I breathe.
He nods.
My breath catches. “So fucking beautiful. Fuck,” I mumble.
He hums around me, the vibration heightening the sensation. My body goes hot, tight. Everything else falls away.
“Enough of that,” I manage when I feel like I might lose it if he keeps going. If not because of what he's doing. Then just from watching him like this. So open for me. Taking me down his throat and letting me own him like this.
I pull him up by the back of his neck until I can taste myself on his tongue. I chase it. I can't get close enough.
Without breaking the kiss, I reach for the lube I now know he keeps in the side table drawer. Squeezing a glob onto my fingers, I press two inside him. Kissing him the whole time.
They glide in easily with the amount of lube I've used. His back arches, and our mouths part. He moans out loud, panting against my face. I don't go gentle. I need him now. Can't think straight.
My world narrows in on the sensation of the tight heat engulfing my fingers and the need on his flushed face. I lick down his neck, tasting the salt on his skin. He rests his forehead against mine, and we breathe each other's air.
Moving my fingers in and out of him, I coat him with enough lube that my cock can slide in. Don't want to take my time prepping him this time. I want him to feel me.
I know he loves the feeling of me sliding into him. Taking me inch by inch. Feeling all of it.
“Now,” he says, lining himself up over my cock.
Spreading the remaining lube over my cock, I slide it up and down his slit. A current of electricity runs through my body with every brush. My pulse stutters.
He wraps his hand around me and slowly lowers himself, groaning as he sinks down my cock with expert precision. Just like everything he does. The world narrows to just us. How he looks down at me with love, need. How our bodies melt together in hungry heat.
He rises onto his calves. I pull his hips down hard, my fingers digging into his hips. He rides my dick, bouncing on it until he's fully seated. Heat floods my skin.
The feeling of being surrounded by his warmth nearly makes me lose it right there. His eyes are closed, like he's completely lost in the feeling.
I can't take it anymore.
I pull back, then thrust into him again, rolling my hips. He quickly falls into the same rhythm, rising and falling over me.
My hand slides over his hole. Feeling myself disappear inside him. He pauses when my touch lingers there, then melts down onto me, resting his forehead against my cheek.
I thrust into him again and again, wrapping my other hand around his cock, matching each stroke to the rhythm of my hips.
I slowly press a finger in alongside my cock. It’s a tight fit, but my finger glides in, putting pressure against his prostate.
“Nicholas, fuck,” he cries.
He's so tight. The feeling is everything. My blood hums beneath my skin.
I leave my finger where it is and pick up the pace, pumping his cock faster until he comes across my chest.
Gripping his hair and pulling him toward me, I capture his mouth and bite gently at his lower lip as he pants against me, giving himself over completely.
The Earth stops spinning. I thrust once, twice until my vision fades to black. Lightning travels up my body, and I come inside him.
As I soften, I ease my finger free. Brushing my cum-slick finger over his lips, I pull him back into a kiss, tasting myself in his mouth. Time slows. The world disappears. It’s just me and him and this feeling.
When he comes up for air, he’s breathing loudly. I pull him into my chest, clinging to him.
He's quiet now. Calm.
When he starts getting antsy a little while later, I let him slide onto the bed before padding to the bathroom. I clean myself up quickly, then come back with a warm washcloth.
I take my time cleaning him. His eyes are drooping, that’s the only reason he lets me linger.
Once we're done, I lie back down beside him, pulling him against me. Then press a kiss to his forehead.
“I love you,” I tell him.
“Love you too,” he murmurs against my neck.
I fall asleep with the dorkiest smile on my face.
I help Elliot clean up properly after we wake up from our nap that turned into way more than just a nap, to no one's surprise. We’ve had a sudden onslaught of cockblockers in our lives. Every chance had to be put to good use.
We end the day early after taking Mickey for a quick walk and picking up burritos on the way. As I lie in Elliot’s bed, his scent washing over me, I can’t help but want more. More time. More of him. I want everything with him.
I pull him closer to me. He mumbles something against my chest before settling down again.
“I love you so much,” I whisper against his hair.
He hums in his sleep.
I must have fallen asleep at some point because my eyes snap open from the buzz near my ears.
Elliot is sound asleep on his stomach on the other side of the bed. He has a habit of drifting away every night, as if his intimacy meter maxes out after a while, even in his sleep.
I turn to check who is annoying enough to text so early in the morning. Swiping my phone on, I’m surprised to see the sheer number of messages in the Bureau group chat.
Matt: Are we meeting soon?
Sloan: We obviously need to.
Bree: Two deaths in two weeks. That has to be a new record.
Sloan: We need to keep everything aside and focus on this.
I have no idea what they’re talking about, but it has to be urgent if Matt is up and active at seven on his day off. Scrolling up, I try to figure out what's gotten them chirping like a flock of birds at the crack of dawn.
My hand stops at the words that make my body go cold.
Meena: We found another werewolf an hour ago. Died sometime last night. The body has been transported to our morgue.