Chapter Five
Five
Tegan
“No, Mom. It ended up turning out okay. I had the sheet cake as backup, just like you taught me,” I said while lying in bed eating popcorn, my phone resting on my tits.
After the disaster that was this morning, I’d spent the rest of the day trying to decompress before the wedding. That meant rotting in bed, binge-watching my favorite TV show, and eating snacks.
“And what about the guy who helped you clean up the cake?” she asked. “You said he was cute.”
Oh man, I fucked up. I should have left out that detail in my text message to her.
“He was so hot, Mom. This big, buff wolven. He owns that gym on Main Street, Leviathan Fitness.”
“Oh, a wolven. My friend’s niece dates a wolven over in Rock Harbor.
She says he’s adorable, and a true gentleman, too.
Did you get this guy’s number, honey?” I could hear the hope in her voice.
If anyone was aware of the ticking of my biological clock, it was my mother.
She started pestering me about having children the moment I turned twenty-five.
“No. I didn’t even get his name. Or tell him mine,” I groaned, and pulled a pillow over my head.
“Tegan, honey, you said he owns the gym. Why don’t you just go down there?”
“I don’t want to seem like some crazed stalker.”
“You’re going to have to do something if you want to see this guy again.”
I sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
“Tegan—”
“So do you need a ride to the wedding?” I asked, steering the conversation away from my nonexistent love life.
I loved my mother dearly, but when it came to alcohol, especially cheap wine, she was known to overindulge. There was no way I was letting her drive herself.
“Nope. Your brother is my chauffeur for the evening.”
Shit.
My older brother, Reece, was the head park ranger of the Briar Glenn Parks Department, working closely with the mayor. Of course he wouldn’t miss the wedding.
“Lovely,” I huffed.
“Tegan,” she admonished, like only a mother could. “The two of you are family. You’re going to have to work things out at some point.”
Since our father’s death, Reece had taken over the role of the Rollins family paterfamilias. As far as I was concerned, he’d taken things a little too seriously, turning into a completely overbearing dick.
“All right, well, I’m gonna go,” I said, totally ignoring what she’d just said. I’d work things out with Reece when he pulled his head out of his ass, and that wasn’t happening anytime soon. “I have to get in the shower and start getting ready.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll see you later. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom. Bye.”
As soon as the call disconnected, I pulled up the browser on my phone and typed “Leviathan Fitness” into the search bar. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier. I mean, we lived in the age of the internet. You could find all the dirt on a person you wanted.
I was completely contradicting myself by going full-on stalker, but I guess it didn’t really matter at this point. Might as well lean on into it.
The very first hit was a website that showed pictures of the gym in all its glory.
State-of-the-art equipment, loads of free weights and racks, and an Olympic-size swimming pool with tentacles snaking out from beneath the water’s surface.
I couldn’t believe it was the same run-down rec center from my childhood.
My finger hovered over the About button.
Fuck it.
I clicked on the link, and a professional headshot of the wolven I’d run into earlier filled the screen. My lips parted and a breathy sigh of appreciation slipped out. Just like this morning, he was dressed in a Leviathan Fitness tank top that strained against his muscular chest.
Jesus, he was hot.
Below the photo was an About the Owner section.
Atlas Oberon
Owner
Atlas Oberon is the owner of Leviathan Fitness. After being bullied as a child, Atlas found a passion for fitness in his teen years. He was captain of his high school varsity football and wrestling teams—leading both to win state championship titles.
He attended Brighton Valley College on a full-ride scholarship for wrestling, where he obtained a bachelor’s degree in kinesiology, going on to complete his master of science in kinesiology.
For several years, he competed in the professional bodybuilding circuit, winning numerous medals for his physique.
Atlas has trained professional athletes, bodybuilders, and even a few celebrities.
After his retirement from bodybuilding, he combined his love for fitness and entrepreneurial aspirations by opening a state-of-the-art gym—Leviathan Fitness.
Atlas was raised in upstate New York, and he is the youngest of three male wolven. He enjoys cheat meals, long hikes through the woods, and of course, working out.
Below the About the Owner section was a series of competition photos of Atlas. He stood tall and proud, that furry muscular chest on full display. A shiny gold medal hung around his neck, sitting just above a cut six-pack.
Wait, wait, wait.
I slid my fingers across the phone screen, zooming in.
Was that an eight-pack?
My eyes drifted lower, to the skimpy banana hammock covering his crotch. The entire outline of his cock was visible through the thin piece of material. It was massive—like he was trying to smuggle a can of Pringles into the competition.
I was drooling.
My thoughts circled back to how he looked as he cleaned the icing off his fingers with that wide pink tongue. I bet he ate pussy like a champ.
And those sharp claws and those muscles. He had to have some serious stamina.
His soft fur rubbing against my naked body would feel like heaven.
My free hand slid down my stomach, under the band of my underwear, to the slick folds of my pussy. I was already wet. Embarrassingly wet. Hot and achy from just a photo of Atlas. I slid two fingers inside, pulsing them in and out a few times, filling the room with obscene, sloppy sounds.
This was so fucked up. Masturbating to a photo of someone I’d just met.
“Atlas.” I moaned his name experimentally, loving the way it sounded on a breathy exhale.
I stroked the wet folds of my center, swirling two fingers over my clit before withdrawing my hand and scrambling toward my nightstand.
Opening the drawer, I pulled out my biggest vibrator and wondered how it compared to Atlas’s cock.
Would I be able to take him?
Would it hurt?
Did I want it to?
I imagined there would be pleasure mixed with pain.
The most delicious kind, the type that I craved.
My sexual encounters had been subpar at best. I needed someone with dominant energy.
Someone who would take control and use my body, getting me out of my head so I could let go and enjoy myself.
I was willing to bet money on the fact that Atlas was that type.
With a buzz, I started up my vibrator and worked it inside of me as I centered the suctioning head over my clit.
“Yes, Atlas, yes,” I moaned as I looked over the photo, taking in every crease and shadow created by his muscles.
I rocked my hips, fucking my vibe and wishing it was him. Wishing the big bad wolf would huff and puff and give me the best orgasm of my life.
My belly started to feel tight, the tension building until it finally snapped, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
“Ahh! Fuck!” I screamed as warm liquid gushed out of my body and onto the bed, my legs shaking with the force of my orgasm.
I threw my head back against the pillow, my eyes focused on the ceiling as I panted to try to catch my breath.
Apparently, all it took to give me an earth-shattering orgasm was just a picture of Atlas. The mere image of him doing devious things to me had pushed me over the edge.
But what would it be like to have the real thing?