Chapter Thirty-Nine
In which things are sweet… and then very savage.
Luna…
I can smell the salt in the ocean breeze as Kai turns down a private lane. There are no other houses on this road, just the Atlantic on one side and the forest on the other.
Then he rounds a bend in the road, and I see it.
A big - but not monstrously big - stone house with Gothic-style windows and an old-fashioned slate roof. He pulls up to the front, and I let him help me out of the car.
“There are turrets,” I whisper, putting my hand over my mouth. The light is on in one of the little towers, and sheer white curtains are blowing in the ocean breeze.
Kai hands me a key.
Opening the oak and iron door, I wander in a daze, looking at the wood herringbone floors, the enormous fireplace in the living room, and the kitchen with a magnificent view of the ocean and herbs drying on a rack over the blue La Cornue range. Just beyond it, an open door shows a perfect little greenhouse, just big enough to grow flowers with a comfortable bench swing, ready for a stack of books on the table next to it.
“I…” I turn in a circle, almost tripping on my dress. “This… how… Did you somehow create this out of thin air?”
He’s leaning against the granite kitchen counter, watching me with a smile. “No, though I did have to get the greenhouse built on the back to make it just right.”
I’m crying again, not that it matters since most of my makeup is gone by now. “When?”
Kai’s smile doesn’t waver, but I can see the flash of sorrow in his eyes. “When you went to California. It was my act of faith, ya see. I would have your home ready when ya returned to me. I could never let ya go, love. Not for long. It nearly killed me, that week we were apart.”
“I didn’t want to think about it, but I kept wondering if there would be divorce papers delivered,” I admit.
“Not ever,” he says decisively, striding over to me. “We’re together for life and beyond if I have anything to say about it.”
He kisses me with a deeply satisfying amount of passion, and I’m a little unsteady by the time he lifts his head. “We’ll have time for a full tour tomorrow,” he says, taking my hand, “but there is one place I want to show ya tonight.”
We climb the stairs to the second floor, and then through a stone archway, I see the steps circle to the top of… “The turret,” I whisper reverently. There are beautifully framed pictures on the walls and as we climb, I realize they’re mine. Images from the ocean when Kai taught me how to pilot a boat. A couple of me with the girls, silly selfies we took while wedding dress shopping. One that makes me blush, of Kai making me dinner in the background while I’m grinning like a fool at the camera. I loved that shot because the light streaming through the window highlighted his sculpted face and his sexy, tattooed hands deftly slicing a tomato.
“Let me guess, the secured iCloud account you created for me?”
He gives me a shameless smile.
At the top of the stairs, I clutch his hand. The magnificent king-sized bed has four tall wooden pillars, draped at the top in filmy white cloth like the curtains. There’s a big vase of blush-colored peonies, like we had at the wedding, sitting on the bedside table.
“The window bench…” I whisper, hurrying over to sit on it.
“I started off the bookshelves with some from our collection at the townhouse, but I will tell ya that Glasgow has more bookstores than any other city in Scotland.” Kai sits next to me. “This is a grand view of the ocean.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper. “This is all so perfect.”
“I’m glad.” He cups my face in his lovely, calloused hands. “We’re building our life together. This is just the first step, but it should be a perfect one.”
“This is so perfect,” I babble, kissing and kissing him. “So beyond perfect.”
“Now, my bride, I would like ya to freshen up and meet me downstairs, aye?” The spark in his greener than green eyes sends a jolt through me.
The mask.
With a little girlish noise that is just so embarrassing, I watch him head back down the stairs, whistling.
I wash my face and put my hair up in a high ponytail, walking down the spiraling steps to… I don’t know what, but my heart is pounding like a triphammer, and my mouth is dry. Something is swirling in my core, an energy that’s reminiscent of the chase through the woods on Morren Island but without the dread.
Anticipation?
There’s a note on the kitchen counter with a pair of running shoes.
Take off your dress. Put these on.
The zipper on my wedding gown is tricky, but I manage it, carefully hanging it on a chair. I feel a little silly putting on sneakers with my lacy, thigh-high stockings and bridal lingerie, though that swirling sense of expectation with a dash of fear is stronger.
There’s another note on the table in the greenhouse.
It’s time to run, little fox.
A huge boom rattles the greenhouse windows, a sound that a baseball bat slamming against something metal might make.
And I run.
Kai…
Looking up at the moon, I take a deep breath. Fuck, I’ve wanted this. I see her read the note in the greenhouse, lit up like she’s on a stage, ready to make her debut. I slam my bat against one of the metal flower planters, and she startles, eyes wide.
She tears out the back door of the greenhouse and streaks toward the forest. I hear the snap of twigs underfoot, and she’s out of sight in a flash.
I’ve changed into a pair of jeans, no shirt and the night air feels good on my skin. This time, I welcome the feeling of madness, the feral sense of my darker self surging to the forefront, all the savagery I keep under control. I hated myself for letting it run free on the island, feeling no better than those rich fucks.
Ach, but here… I hear the soft call of the owls and the waves crashing on the beach, the scent of moss and the pine trees, and my cock is harder than it’s ever been. I adjust it in my jeans with a groan and check my watch. It’s been fifteen minutes.
Time to play.
Tilting my head back to the night sky, a howl roars free from me, and I pull down my wolf mask and race into the woods.
Luna’s made it farther away from the house than I expected, clever lass. I track the little path of broken twigs and bent branches as she hurtles ahead of me. There’s a scrap of white lace clinging to one of the broken branches, and I pull it loose, holding it to my nose with a growl.
Mo shionnach beag , my little fox, smells like citrus, a bright spark that grows stronger when she’s afraid, and like warmth and flowers when she’s aroused.
Fuuuuck, this scrap of lace smells like both.
“I’m coming for ya!” I roar. “Better run faster!”
I learned to run silently a long time ago, where to place my feet, how to breathe lightly, even when my lungs are bursting. It makes it easier to hear her when she slips and there’s a muttered curse. She’s up again and heading in the wrong direction for my plans. I cross behind her and slam the baseball bat against a tree trunk, watching her jump and race in the opposite direction.
“Good lass,” I whisper, “just like that.”
My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I can see flashes of her pale hair as she darts between the trees. So close. So fucking close but I love the chase too much to let it end.
My jeans feel tight, confining. I want to rip them off and shed the last tatters of my self-control, run naked like the beast I am. There’s a heartbeat in this forest; prey like the mice and rabbits are falling silent. The trees rustle above me, everything pausing to witness this chase.
Another thump of my bat against a hollow log reverberates, and she changes direction slightly. Sweat’s dripping down under my mask, and my fingers twitch. Those tiny knickers are doing nothing to hide her tight arse. I need to dig my fingers into the soft flesh. Bite it, squeeze it.
Stopping for a moment, she rests her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. A hoot of an owl in the tree behind her makes her jump, and she’s off again. The sight of her… that virginal white lingerie and her toned legs, darting gracefully between the underbrush and the pines, it’s too good. A howl bursts from my chest, full-throated, and the predators of this forest howl back.
A stream runs through this part of the woods, and her tracks stop there. I touch the indent of her heel in the soft moss, picturing her leaping for the other side.
“Where are ya, little fox?”
The slightest rustle on this side of the water. A crackle of dry leaves, maybe. Or my Luna, crouching behind that fallen tree just north of the stream, its huge roots still gripping the earth and rocks that couldn’t hold it in a storm but big enough to hide a fierce, wee creature.
I jump over the stream, looking into the woods with my back to her as I wait for her to bolt. She’s patient, holding utterly still, the sound of the creek hiding her labored breathing.
“I know you’re close. I can feel ya,” I call out, listening for movement behind me. “Ya better run faster because I’m gonna take ya down and fuck ya right in the dirt and leaves, shionnach beag.” I grip my cock, squeezing it. Fuuuck, the zipper’s gonna rub the skin right off it if I dinna catch her soon.
“Are ya wet? I’ll bet if I was closer, I’d smell your sweet slick, dirty girl. My filthy, fecking lass, wantin’ me to catch ya. I could lay you out…” I turn and leap back over the stream. “And fuck ya right on that fallen tree!”
Luna screams, her hiding place gone, and she’s off, racing as gracefully as a deer through the trees and brush. I dinna hurry. I know right where she’s heading; I pushed her to it like a fox to a snare.
Her hair, silver in the moonlight, flies behind her and then she skids to a stop.
There’s a cottage in front of her, more like a shed. Looking over her shoulder again, she races for it, trying to open the door.
It’s locked. She mutters a curse, her hands moving rapidly, checking over the door, under close by rocks, looking for a key. My fingers flex and curl when my clever lass finds the little screwdriver I’d left for her. Not in plain sight. But visible enough for someone determined to find a tool to work with.
Falling to her knees - and feck I can barely hold back a growl at the sight - she looks over her shoulder one more time before slipping the screwdriver into the lock, her brows furrowed as she intently searches for the right twist to release the lock.
Does she remember her lessons?
The door swings open, and she just barely contains a triumphant yell as she darts inside. I’m on her before she can slam the door shut, and I bring her down to the floor, shoving myself between her legs, spreading them wide.
My hand cups her hot little pussy and she moans, unconsciously spreading her legs wider for me. “It was a good effort, little fox,” I chuckle, low in my throat, “but I will always catch you.”
She screams as I thrust three fingers inside her, pumping deep and drawing them out, only to ram them in again. Ripping her pretty lace bra down, I suck on her nipples until they’re red and raw.
“You’re so close already, aren’t you?” She wants to deny it, I can tell, but she stubbornly looks away. “No, you look at me when I have my fingers inside you.” I put my hand on her throat, squeezing lightly. “Ah, there it is,” I gloat, grinding the heel of my hand over her clit. “You need this. Beg me for it.”
“No!” Luna snarls, slapping my face.
Her hand knocks my wolf mask loose, and I yank it off, tossing it away.
The last of my sanity breaks free as I swoop down, biting her shoulder as she comes, screaming and shuddering, her slick soaking my hand. Pulling my fingers free, I shove them into her mouth, watching her eyes widen. “Suck my fingers clean. We have so much more to do.”
The sense of power I feel when her tongue traces over my fingers is unimaginable. Better than firing a gun, beating the shite out of an arsehole, better than the best food or my most intense orgasm.
Gripping my cock, I run my piercings over her clit, back and forth, back and forth over her wet slit, watching her shake, still licking my fingers.
“The first one’s free,” I whisper, enjoying how her eyes narrow even while her hips are pushing up against my cock.
“Beg.”
“Fuck you!” she snarls, trying to slap me again and I rip her knickers off, using them to tie her wrists together.
“No, baby. I’m fucking you.” Flipping her over onto her hands and elbows, her hands bound, I wind her long ponytail around my hand, yanking her head back.
“Beg.”
“No.”
She’s gritting her teeth, fighting the words that want to escape. Slapping her pussy, I say it again.
“Beg.”
“Mmmm… please.”
It sounds like the word was dragged from her throat, but it’s enough. I shove my dick inside her, no soft strokes, no preparation. I cram every inch inside her, holding her hair tight as she surges forward. Her pussy’s red, strained as I thrust in and out of her, her breasts swinging, her eyes are rolled back.
“This tight, perfect cunt,” I growl. “I’d climb inside ya if I could. Bury myself so deep you’d taste me in your throat. Fuuuck…” I thrust harder. “Not tonight, but soon, I’m gonna fuck your throat like I do your pussy.” Another needy moan escapes her lips, and I chuckle. “You want that, aye?” I slap her arse hard. “And then this hole.”
The sight of her, slick and swollen, her moans, how she’s pushing back against me now… I’m barely holding on. Sliding my arm across her breasts, I pull her up against me, back to my chest. I want every part of me pressed against every part of her.
“I’m close, baby.” I chuckle breathlessly. “So close. Can ya feel my cock thick inside ya?”
“Yesss…” she moans. “I want it.”
Putting my wet fingers against her clit, I start tapping it in time to my strokes inside her and my little fox, my wife, my Luna…
She detonates .
Screaming and writhing, clamping down so hard on my cock that she squeezes me into coming and I groan, filling her with everything I have until it’s leaking from her swollen and battered cunt.
It takes me a minute to come back, to shove that feral part of me back down and he goes, the beast, but he’s grinning at me. He knows Luna will want him to come out and play again.
Carefully lying down on the rug, I stay inside her, curling my arms around her securely.
“Are ya braw, love? Did I hurt ya?”
“Aye,” she chuckles weakly, “I’m true braw. You only hurt me in the very best way.”
Pulling a quilt from the sofa, I drape it over her, and we lie there together, skin to skin, until we have enough strength to get back up.
True braw - Scottish slang for I’m really, really doing fine.