Chapter 9 Caelan #2
I was not fine. I was the opposite of fine. Because the arousal flooding through the bond was intense. Building, spiraling, unmistakably Riley. I could feel it like it was my own, heat pooling low in my stomach, my cock stirring in my pants.
Was she with someone? The thought sent ice through my veins, followed immediately by volcanic rage. If someone else was touching her, if someone else was making her feel like this...
I forced myself to focus. Shut out the buzz of the tattoo gun, the low music playing in the shop, the distant sounds of traffic outside. Narrowed my hearing to the apartment above us.
It was quiet, no voices or a second heartbeat. Just Riley’s, fast and getting faster. She was alone.
Oh.
Oh no.
She was touching herself.
My cock went from stirring to achingly hard in approximately two seconds flat. I was lying on a tattoo chair in a room full of men, getting Riley’s name inked into my thigh, and I was getting hard because she was pleasuring herself in the apartment directly overhead.
This was a nightmare. This was actual hell.
“Almost done,” Dom said, oblivious to my crisis. “Just need to finish the Y.”
The Y. Great. The Y. I could hear Riley through the ceiling, soft gasps barely audible to human ears but clear as day to me now that I was focusing on them. A whimper, the rustle of sheets, the catch of breath that meant she was getting close.
My cock strained against my jeans, precum soaking my briefs.
“You’re sweating,” Vinnie observed from the couch. “A lot.”
“Hot in here.”
“It’s like sixty-eight degrees.”
“I run warm.”
Marco glanced over. Did a double take. His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.
“Uh. You need a minute, buddy?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? Because it looks like you’re...”
“I said I’m fine.”
I was not fine. I was so far from fine I couldn’t even see fine from here. Above me, Riley moaned, barely a sound, more like a breath, and my hips twitched involuntarily.
Dom paused the tattoo gun. Looked at me, looked at the extremely obvious tent in my jeans, then looked back at my face.
“Not gonna ask,” Dom said flatly. “Not my business. Whatever’s happening right now, I don’t want to know. But can you stay still for another thirty seconds?”
“Trying.”
“Try harder.”
The pleasure built through the bond. I gripped the edges of the chair so hard the leather creaked. I was panting, trying to control myself, trying not to lose it like a teenager while a man tattooed my thigh.
This was humiliating. This was torture. This was the universe punishing me for every sin I’d ever committed.
Then, through the bond and through the ceiling, I heard her gasp.
“Caelan.”
She said my name when she came.
My name.
I nearly blacked out.
The orgasm hit me secondhand through the bond.
Not my own, but hers, and it was still enough to make my vision white out at the edges.
I bit down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood, fighting back the groan that wanted to escape, fighting back the release that threatened to spill, forcing myself to keep my expression blank as sweat tickled down my temple from the effort of it fucking all.
“Done,” Dom announced, pulling back. “You can breathe now.”
I actually couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything except lie there, hard and desperate, knowing that Riley just came while thinking about me.
“You need a minute?” Vinnie asked. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“Or die,” Marco added helpfully. “You look like you might actually die.”
“I’m fine.” I sat up too fast, my head spinning. “What do I owe you?”
Dom named a price. I pulled out my wallet and handed him twice that amount.
“Keep the change,” I said, already moving toward the door. “Thank you for your discretion.”
“What discretion?” Marco called after me. “We’re definitely telling everyone about this.”
I didn’t care. I needed to leave immediately, before anyone made another comment about the extremely obvious situation in my pants. I made it out of the tattoo shop through sheer force of will.
I walked through the door, down the street, around the corner, and the moment I was out of sight, I broke into a sprint.
My apartment was one block away. I’d never been more grateful for strategic housing decisions.
I burst through my door, slammed it behind me, and leaned against it, breathing hard. My cock was straining against my jeans, demanding. My entire body was wound tight, the echo of Riley’s pleasure still reverberating through the bond.
She said my name. She thought about me while she touched herself. She wanted me.
I needed to... I couldn’t... I shouldn’t...
My laptop was on the coffee table. I absolutely shouldn’t.
But I did. I pulled up the security feed from the cameras I’d installed around Riley’s building. Not inside her apartment, I wasn’t that invasive, but the perimeter, the entrances, the street. Just to keep her safe, to make sure Damien wasn’t lurking.
She was fine. The footage showed her apartment building quiet, no threats, no sign of that piece of shit anywhere. Everything was secure.
I rewound until I found the timestamp from about an hour ago, when I felt the bond flare. The camera gave a view of her window, curtains drawn but backlit. I could see shadows moving behind the fabric. Could imagine what she was doing, could remember exactly how it felt through the bond.
My hand was on my cock before I made a conscious decision.
I stroked myself roughly, watching the shadowy movement behind her curtains, remembering the feeling of her pleasure flooding through me. The way her breath caught, how her heart raced. My name on her lips like a prayer.
“Riley,” I groaned, and it came out desperate, broken.
I didn’t last long. Two strokes, three, and I was coming hard, spilling over my fist, her name on my lips like she’d written it on my soul.
Afterward, I lay there in the dark, panting, staring at the ceiling.
I was pathetic. Completely, utterly pathetic. Getting myself off to security footage like some kind of deranged stalker. The men at the tattoo shop were right. This was insane.
But I was also in love with her.
It wasn’t just the mate bond or instinct.
I was actually, genuinely, completely in love with this human woman who didn’t know I was a werewolf, didn’t know she was my fated mate, didn’t know I had her name tattooed on my thigh and cameras around her building and a desperate need to be near her that bordered on madness.
I cleaned myself up, changed my clothes, and checked on my new tattoo. The letters were red and slightly swollen, but clear. RILEY. Permanent, forever, just like she was.
I just had to convince her of that somehow.