Chapter 23 Moonshine #3
His body was a map I’d forgotten how to read but never stopped loving.
I mouthed at his pecs, bit gently at the soft flesh, then soothed the sting with my tongue, listening to the low rumble of pleasure in his chest. My hands explored his sides, the tight band of his waist, the way his breath hitched when I dug my fingers into the hard muscle above his briefs.
I wanted to worship him—wanted to show him that every inch was cherished, every scar and curve and line. I whispered his name between kisses, voice full of promise, letting him know he could have all of me, tonight and every night after.
He let me, shuddering as I worshipped him. When I pressed my lips to his throat, sucking a mark there, he tilted his head back, baring himself for me. His hands tightened on my hips, grinding us together, and I could feel how hard he was, how close he was to losing that careful control.
“Nate,” he breathed, a warning and a plea.
I answered by dragging my teeth down the slope of his shoulder, mouthing at the swell of his bicep, feeling the shiver ripple through him.
I licked a bead of sweat from his skin, tasting the wildness there, then trailed my mouth down, over his chest, down the center of his stomach, until I was nuzzling the soft trail of hair that disappeared beneath his waistband.
He sucked in a breath, hips arching, but I kept it slow, savoring him.
My fingers traced the outline of his cock through his underwear, feeling the heat and weight, the way he throbbed for me.
I pressed my mouth to the damp spot at the front, inhaled the scent of him, then licked the fabric, tongue flat and slow.
He groaned, low and broken. “You’re killing me.”
I smiled, loving the power I had over him—the way he melted under my touch, all that strength turned soft for me. “Let me take care of you,” I whispered, mouth still pressed to his cock, breath hot through the cotton.
He nodded, hands trembling as he cupped my jaw, guiding me up for a kiss. “Anything. Anything you want.”
I crawled back up his body, pressing my chest to his, sliding my thigh between his legs. He rocked against me, his cock grinding into my hip, leaking through his briefs. I kissed him again, slow and filthy, letting him taste the want on my tongue.
“Been thinking about you every night,” I confessed, words slipping out between kisses. “Every time I touched myself, it was you. Always you.”
He groaned, biting down on my bottom lip, tugging gently, then soothing with his tongue. “Say it again.”
“Always you,” I repeated, kissing him harder, grinding down until we were both shuddering, so close it was almost too much.
Something in Evan broke loose—a tension that had been wound too tight for too long.
He pulled back, just enough to look at me, eyes wild and hungry.
His hands, big and calloused, slid down my sides with a little less restraint now, fingers digging into my hips like he was claiming territory he’d lost years ago.
He kissed me again, rougher, mouth moving over mine with a force that bordered on desperate.
I felt the edge of his wolf then—dangerous, starving, but desperate not to hurt me.
His teeth grazed my jaw, the corner of my mouth, then my throat, biting down hard enough to make me gasp.
For a heartbeat I thought he might lose himself entirely, but then he froze, breathing hard, trembling with the effort it took to rein himself back.
“Nate—” His voice was raw, shredded with want and worry. “Tell me if I’m too much. You gotta tell me.”
I arched up, meeting his eyes. “You’re not. Don’t hold back on my account. I want all of you.” My own voice sounded wild, needy—honest in a way I didn’t know I could be with anyone else.
Something softened in his gaze, the sharpness of his hunger blunted by a flash of love so deep it made my chest ache. “You sure?” he whispered, thumb brushing my cheek.
“Yeah,” I breathed, “please, Evan. I want this. I want you.”
That was all it took. He hooked his fingers into the band of my briefs, dragging them down in one rough, sure motion.
The fabric caught on my thighs, then my knees, then my ankles.
He flung them somewhere behind him, never looking away from me, gaze traveling hungrily over every inch of exposed skin.
“Look at you,” he whispered, voice almost reverent, and even though the words echoed something he’d said before, they felt different now—less about possession, more about awe.
I flushed, half from the cold air, half from the intensity of his stare. I felt laid bare in every sense—naked, open, wanting. But there was no shame, only anticipation, as Evan’s hands settled on my knees, pushing them wider, giving him all the access he could ever want.
His palms skimmed up my thighs, slow and steady, as if memorizing the shape of me.
He pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee, then another, working his way up, teeth scraping, lips lingering.
The roughness was still there—he bit down just above the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, sucking a bruise deep enough I’d feel it for days—but every touch was followed by a gentler one, as if he was trying to balance worship with hunger.
I watched, breath coming fast, as he moved higher. He paused at the crease where thigh met groin, nosing in, breathing me in, tongue flicking out to taste the salt and heat. The first touch of his tongue made my hips jerk, a helpless, needy reaction I couldn’t have hidden if I tried.
He grinned, wicked and proud, but softer than before. “Been wanting to do this since high school,” he admitted, voice gone gravelly with want. “Never thought I’d get the chance to just take my time and show you what you deserve.”
He pressed his face to the root of my cock, inhaled deeply, then licked a slow stripe from base to tip. The sensation was almost too much after so long—years of wanting, imagining, and never daring to hope. My whole body trembled, nerves singing.
Evan didn’t rush. He licked and kissed every inch of me, hands holding my thighs open, mouth trailing heat up and down the length of my cock, then moving lower, licking over my balls, sucking one into his mouth and rolling it with his tongue until I whimpered.
He sucked, then let it go with a soft pop, switching to the other, mouth warm and wet, beard scratching just enough to make me shiver.
When he finally took my cock into his mouth, I thought I’d lose my mind.
The heat, the suction, the feel of his tongue swirling around the head—every second was pure worship.
He moaned low, vibrations sending sparks up my spine, and looked up at me through thick lashes, possessive and soft all at once.
“Ev—” I choked out, unable to say anything else.
He sucked harder, tongue tracing the sensitive underside, hands squeezing my thighs, keeping me open for him. He took me deeper, throat flexing around the head, then pulled back, kissing the tip, licking up the precome, making a show of tasting every drop.
“You taste so fucking good,” he rasped, voice gone feral again, but the edge was softer, more controlled. He pressed open-mouthed kisses all over my cock, my hips, my stomach, leaving wet marks that felt like claims. “Never getting enough of you. Never.”
He moved lower, tongue tracing the line from base to balls, licking, sucking, nuzzling.
He mouthed at the skin just below my cock, sucking a bruise into the crease, then dragged his tongue lower, nudging my thighs even wider.
I let him, willing to give him anything, wanting to be ruined by his mouth.
He buried his face between my thighs, tongue teasing the spot just behind my balls, licking up, breathing me in like he was starving for it. I writhed, clutching at the sheets, gasping, overwhelmed by how gentle and greedy he was at the same time.
He paused, glanced up at me, eyes wild but shining with something I couldn’t name. “Tell me if you need me to stop. Ever.”
I shook my head, desperate. “Don’t stop. Please, Evan. I need you.”
He smiled, nothing but softness on his face, the wildness in him tamed by the need to take care of me.
He kissed just above my rim again, letting his tongue flick and swirl, then pressed his mouth right where I ached for him most, licking a slow, deliberate circle that sent sparks firing up my spine.
Every muscle in my body went tight, every thought dissolved into pure, hungry sensation.
Evan didn’t rush. He let his breath play over my skin, teasing, building me up until I was trembling for him, my thighs shaking where he kept them spread wide.
His hands traced the insides of my knees, then slid up to my hips, holding me steady.
I could feel the roughness of his palms, the strength in his grip, every bit of power held in check for me.
I groaned, unable to stop the sounds spilling from my lips as he worked me open with nothing but his tongue and his careful hands.
He mouthed at my rim, licking and sucking, his beard dragging lightly against the most sensitive skin, making me shudder.
I was dizzy with it, drunk on the way he took his time.
Finally, I felt his finger trace the slick line of my entrance, pressing lightly, circling, gathering up spit and heat. He let the tip slip inside, just a tease at first, and then pushed a little deeper, slow and gentle. I gasped, back arching, hands fisting the sheets above my head.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice low, full of praise. “Let me in, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good.”
His finger slid deeper, curling, finding that spot that made me see stars. My whole body jolted, hips rolling up to meet his touch, my cock throbbing with every movement. He stroked slowly, letting me adjust, then pulled almost all the way out before sliding back in, never breaking the rhythm.