Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Luna
Damien grips under my thighs, his powerful hands lifting me with ease.
My limbs coil around him, a breathless laugh escaping my lips as he holds me against his solid chest, our bodies touching everywhere.
My heart hammers against my ribs—not from fear, but from anticipation.
From the knowledge that everything has changed between us.
“If you come upstairs with me, I’m not letting you out of that bed until morning.” His breath warms my ear. “I’ve never made love to a woman, Luna. All I’ve ever done is fuck. Will you be my first?”
I nod, skimming my nose along the line of his jaw, and whisper my consent.
He carries me upstairs to his bedroom, his hands gripping the bare flesh of my ass.
I study his profile in the low hallway light.
He’s so beautiful, with his sharp jaw covered in just the lightest stubble, the lines around his eyes, and his gray temples.
And I know in this moment that I want to look at this man for the rest of my life.
Late afternoon sunlight filters through the thick leaded glass windows as we step into his bedroom.
A fire crackles in a stone hearth, its surrounding tile work restored, showcasing the mansion’s Victorian heritage.
In stark contrast to his sleek Denver penthouse, the room is filled with dark walls, glowing sconces, and heavy wooden furniture, making it feel intimate despite its generous size.
The room breathes history while embracing the contemporary, its original architectural details marrying with modern luxury, creating something both timeless and lived-in.
And it matches the man carrying me. Solid, uncompromising, and touched with barely contained wildness.
By the time he reaches the massive four-poster bed that dominates the space, his pants have slipped to his ankles. We barely make it without him tripping, and I laugh against his skin where my tongue traces the pulse point at his throat.
His grip loosens as he sets me on the floor, and for a suspended moment we just stand there, looking at each other. Candlelight flickers from every surface, flames dancing on the bedside tables and dresser, illuminating his face in gold and shadow. I quirk an eyebrow at him.
“That seems like a fire hazard. Pretty sure of the outcome today, huh?”
“Call it confidence in my powers of persuasion.” His smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth as he nudges the fabric pooled around his ankles, stepping free.
His unwavering faith in us, in me coming back to him, makes my throat tighten.
He lit these candles knowing—not hoping, but knowing—that I’d be here with him tonight.
The arrogance of it should rankle and trigger my instinct to rebel against anyone who thinks they know my choices before I make them.
Instead, warmth spreads through me, dissolving the last walls I’d built around my heart.
My fingers tremble as I reach up to trace the line of his jaw. “I’ve wanted to touch your face so bad. When you wore that mask, I could never—”
“I know.” His voice rasps with emotion as his hand covers mine, holding it to his cheek. “Now you can. Anytime you want.”
His lips meet mine in a gentle kiss, nothing like the claiming ones before, and it steals my ability to think.
His hands cradle my face, his fingers tracing my cheekbones, careful of my bruises, until tremors roll through my limbs.
My body surrenders without thought, muscles melting into his warmth while my mind reels from this contradiction, my heart struggling to reconcile this gentleness with the brutality I’ve known.
“I need you.” The plea breathes out between kisses. “All of you.”
He pulls back, and the tension melts from the corners of his eyes while hunger deepens in their depths. He reaches for his shirt, fingers working at the first button, but I catch his wrists in my hands.
“Let me.”
He drops his arms to his sides. My hands take their time as I release each button, savoring the gradual revelation of his skin, the heat radiating from him as I push the fabric aside, exposing the intricate wolf inked on his chest. The shirt slides from his shoulders, dropping forgotten at our feet.
His hands find my hips, caressing me wherever they can reach, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. Being naked in front of this man is as natural as breathing now. The firelight reflects in his dark eyes as he studies me without metal between us.
“You’re beautiful.” Wonder softens his tone. My cheeks warm at the raw devotion I hear. “So fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes.”
“So are you.”
My eyes drink him in, memorizing every inch of his exposed skin. My fingers trace the detailed tattoos, the wolf standing defiant in the midst of hell, so fitting and profoundly meaningful now that I know the secrets of his past.
He holds his arms out to his sides. “Every inch of my body is yours, Luna. See me. Touch me. Claim me.”
My eyes begin their true exploration in the light. The scattered scars tell stories he hasn’t shared. The tension across his shoulders speaks of burdens carried alone. And the slight tremor in his hands when he touches me, as if he still can’t believe I’m here, choosing this.
Choosing him.
He pulls me against him, skin against skin, and his shudder vibrates through my bones.
“I’ve dreamed of this.” His lips brush against my collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth. “Of holding you like this. Of you still wanting me even after knowing everything I’ve done.”
“I do want you.” My fingers thread through his dark hair. “I want Damien, and I want my wolf. I want all the parts you’ve kept hidden.”
He lays me back on cool sheets that quickly warm beneath us, his touch reverent where it once was possessive. His hands glide along my skin, rediscovering every curve. When he settles over me, I gasp as the weight of him presses me into the mattress, solid and real.
“I can’t promise to be gentle.” His thumbs trace circles on my hipbones, contradicting every word with their tender touch.
“Your gentleness and your brutality both live in these hands.” My palms cover his, pressing them deeper into my skin. “Give me the man who treasures me and the one who devours me. They’re both mine now.”
His mouth begins a slow journey across my skin, and my pulse jumps beneath his lips.
He takes his time exploring me, his mouth leaving a trail of heat along my throat, shoulders, and the valley between my breasts.
Each touch ignites tiny flames beneath my skin.
My nipples pucker, aching for his mouth, and when his lips wrap around one sensitive peak, I arch against him, a soft moan escaping me.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs around the hard bud. “I live for the sound of your pleasure.”
I pull his lips to mine and kiss him like I’m drowning, like he’s the only air I’ll ever need.
My mouth opens against his, desperate and hungry, while his fingers trace the curve of my sides, dancing across my stomach.
Everywhere except where the ache pulses the strongest. The anticipation builds until I’m trembling beneath him, my skin hypersensitive to every whisper of contact.
I beg him to end my sweet torture. “Please.”
When he enters me, reality shrinks to just our joined bodies, and the rest of existence falls away.
The press of his chest against my breasts, his stomach flush with mine—it feels like coming home after years of being lost. His eyes never leave mine as he moves inside me, our bodies finding a rhythm that belongs only to us.
This isn’t our usual desperate, clawing need.
This is love, worship through touch. He overwhelms every sense.
The weight of him pressing me into the mattress, the thick stretch of him inside me, filling places that ached without knowing why.
He’s spent hundreds of hours inside me, but somehow this feels brand new, as if we’re touching for the first time.
“Luna.” He pulls his lips away, groaning my name. “You feel like heaven.”
I wrap my arms and legs around him, urging him deeper. He responds with a low growl that reverberates through both our bodies. We move as one, savoring each sensation, sharing breath between parted lips.
His hands tangle in my hair, and for the first time, he kisses me while we move together, deep, claiming kisses that taste of forever.
His hips shift, finding that perfect spot inside me, and I cry out into the space between our lips. He repeats the motion, and I gasp and arch, my nails digging into the small of his back.
“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
But instead of continuing, he slows, his movements becoming deliberate torture that keeps release just beyond reach. Each stroke builds toward something that never quite arrives, drawing out the pleasure until I’m on the edge of madness.
“Let me.” My fingers dig into his hips, attempting to still his maddening pace. “Let me love you.”
Understanding lights his eyes. He rolls us over, letting me straddle him. He’s never allowed me control before, not even that night on the porch. His struggle plays across his face, jaw clenching and muscles tensing. The instinct to dominate wars with his desire to give me what I want.
“Trust me.” I place my hands flat on his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my palms.
I move my hips in slow circles, learning this new position with him, this new dynamic. The power of being above him, of controlling our pace and depth, is intoxicating.
The skin of my inner thighs burns where it meets the coarse hair on his legs.
The angle sends sparks shooting into my core, each shift forward bringing pressure where I need it, a friction against my clit that makes my breath catch.
His face changes beneath me, his eyes rolling back when my muscles clench around him.
I lean down to taste the salt-slick hollow of his throat. His sharp inhale and full-body shudder tell me everything I need to know about what he needs from me.
“You’re so beautiful.” I echo his words from before.
My hips roll forward, and a sound tears from his throat, deep, broken, and hungry. Candlelight flickers across his face as his mouth falls open, eyes squeezing shut. His jaw goes slack, his features softening as I unravel him piece by piece.
His hands settle on my hips, pressing into the soft flesh but following my movements rather than dictating them.
He’s letting me lead, letting me love him the way I’ve longed to.
I rock against him in slow waves, each motion pulling another groan from his chest. His fingers tremble against my skin, his hold going slack as I claim him.
He lies beneath me, unguarded, open, and surrendering everything, and my breath stutters in my throat.
I lower my body down, resting my weight on him as I kiss him, my hair spilling around us like a silk curtain, blocking out everything but his mouth and mine.
Our tongues dance together, following the rhythm of our bodies below.
When I sit up again, riding him with increasing confidence, his hands find my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples until I’m gasping his name, ragged and breathless.
Heat coils tighter in my core with each roll of my hips. Pressure builds behind my ribs and in my belly, threatening to tear me apart.
He sits up and pulls me against him until no space exists between us.
We move together, our foreheads touching, sharing the same air, breathing each other’s exhales.
His chest presses against mine with each breath, our hearts hammering in matched tempo.
My fingers dig into his shoulders as his palms slide down my spine, steadying my movements.
This level of connection—I've never had this with another man. It terrifies and thrills me.
“I love you.” This time, it doesn’t sound like a confession torn from his throat. It sounds like the truth. “I love you, Luna.”
“I love you too.” The whisper carries everything I feel, every cell inside me alive with it. “All of you.”
The words seem to crack through his final barrier.
His grip tightens on my hips, fingers digging in.
Our rhythm turns frantic, chasing release together.
When he throbs inside me, my climax rips through me with devastating force.
I cling to him as my body contracts around him, muscles clenching in waves that steal my breath.
He shudders beneath me, his mouth finding my neck between gasps.
His lips move against my skin like he’s memorizing the taste, the texture, and the way my pulse races under his tongue.
Tremors continue to pulse through us both as he pulls me down with him, our bodies slick with cooling sweat.
His fingers comb through my hair as our heartbeats resume their normal pace.
He’s still buried inside me, our connection unbroken, and my heart fills with the certainty that this is only the beginning.
He shifts, rolling us carefully onto our sides without separating. His arms tighten around me. I can feel his heart still pounding, gradually slowing to match mine.
“I don’t deserve you.” His breath warms my forehead.
“That’s not your decision to make.” I tilt my face up to look at him. “I choose you. Both of you. All of you.”
His eyes shine in the firelight. He kisses me, slow and thorough, saying everything words can’t capture. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine.
“No more secrets.” His voice is rough. “I promise. No more masks.”
I seal the promise with another kiss, softer this time.
We lie there as the fire burns low, tangled together, neither willing to break contact.
His lips caress my temple. “Stay with me.”
“Forever.”