Chapter 28
Zayden
This is not what I expected when I came out tonight, but here I am, on my fucking knees.
My hands slide up her thighs over her black tights until I realize they’re not tights.
Fucking hell.
She’s wearing stockings—thigh highs, clipped to a garter that disappears under her dress.
I push the dress higher and find the straps connecting her stockings to the tiniest scrap of lace.
“Fuck, Luna…” I breathe out. “You wore this out?”
She looks down at me with wild eyes. “I didn’t know you were gonna get on your knees for me.”
I trace along the garter strap, then dip my finger beneath the hem of her panties.
“You sure this is what you want?” I ask, giving her a chance to change her mind.
She nods, but that’s not enough.
“Not good enough, Luna. I need to hear it.”
“Are you gonna put that mouth to work and make me forget how much I hate you, or not?”
Fuck, I want to worship her and ruin her at the same time.
I hook my finger at the edge of her panties and slide the little piece of fabric down. She’s already wet. Her scent hits me first, warm, sweet, and dangerous. I lower my mouth to her, tongue brushing against her heat, and the first taste is heaven, drawing a deep, guttural groan from my throat.
She arches toward me as I close my lips around her sweet spot, light at first, then harder. I drag my tongue along her center before pushing the tip against her entrance. Her muscle clenches around me, pulling me in. She’s so warm and so wet.
“Oh my God, Zayden.” She grabs the railing behind her.
I pause. “Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, yeah?”
I slide my hands under her thighs, lifting her slightly to angle her hips as I lick her again. Then I give her nub a little pull, enough pressure to make her whimper. Her fingers thread into my locs, hips rolling against my mouth, chasing her climax.
That’s my girl.
Dragging my tongue down her entrance again, I push in as deep as I can, curling it inside her, tasting the slick that’s dripping down her thighs. My nose brushes her clit with every thrust, her thighs squeezing my head.
I pay attention to her reactions. She gasps when I lick, moans when I suck, and shudders when I push my tongue deep inside her entrance. I rotate between all three.
Lick.
Suck.
Thrust.
She’s panting, moaning behind her palms, trying to stay quiet like the good girl that she is, but failing miserably. My dick is so fucking hard in my pants, pulsing with every sound that escapes her lips.
Her eyes are wide, glassy with pleasure, chest heaving, her body twitching with every stroke of my tongue. She’s so fucking close.
That’s it, baby. Come for me. I want her to come all over my face while I’m still hard as fuck for her.
I close my lips around her clit and suck, then I flick my tongue over the tip until she’s squirming under my mouth.
Her head tips back, her hand still covering her mouth, but her moans spill through anyway—broken and beautiful and completely out of her control.
I don’t stop, not until her thighs are shaking and my name spills from her lips as she comes against my tongue.
Her whole body trembles as she rides it out, hips twitching, slick pouring onto my tongue and into my bloodstream like a fucking drug.
She’s still catching her breath when I stand up from the floor. My hands brace on either side of her hips. Her body is limp against the railing, legs still trembling like I just unraveled her.
I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in for a second. “Still hate me?”
“Ask me tomorrow.” Her voice is a little raspy. “Right now, I don’t know.”
A chuckle escapes before I can stop it. The sound startles both of us.
“Fucking hell, Zayden Aldenhurst knows how to laugh.”
I lean in, close enough to feel the heat of her lips. My hands graze the edge of the garter that’s got me hanging on to my sanity by a thread. I want to fuck her right here against the railing. But I hold back. Not yet.
“You’re going to ruin me, Ice Princess.” The words come out a little hoarse from everything I’m holding in.
She lets out a shaky laugh. “Shouldn’t you be doing the ruining?”
“Don’t worry, I’m going to ruin you, too.” Then I kiss her like I’ll die if I don’t. She kisses me back like she’s been starving for it, too. I wrap my hands around her waist as I pull her to me.
Our mouths move fast, messy, and desperate against each other. It’s freezing, but I’m burning. Her fingers are in my hair, pulling and tugging at my locs.
My lips trail down her jaw, across her throat, back to her mouth, like I can’t get enough. Her lips part, and she opens for me. Our tongues tangle together, slow at first, then deeper. We kiss like nothing else exists besides the mountain behind us, the stars, and this balcony.
This is like nothing I’ve ever felt before, this all-consuming and addictive need. I chase the sound of her breath, the little sighs she makes when I suck her bottom lip.
My hands move up to either side of her face, and I brush my thumb along her jaw. Our lips are barely touching now. Her hands are under my shirt, nails dragging across my skin.
I brush my lips against hers. One more kiss. Then another. Like we’re making up for lost time.
Then she pulls back just enough to look at me. Eyes shining under the stars. She’s so fucking beautiful that I can’t breathe.
“Can you get me out of here?” she asks quietly.
She probably doesn’t know yet, but she could ask me for the stars and I’d find a way to bring them to her one by one.
I nod and pull out my phone.
Me: Luna is with me. Tell Sophie only. No one else. She can’t tell anyone.
Jasper: Okay, just be careful.
“Come on, let’s go.” I offer her my hand, and she takes it as we leave the Vault.
The drive to the cabin is quiet, but it’s not awkward. She hasn’t said anything since we left the Vault. Her head leans against the seat, knees tucked to her chest, eyes closed, and those fucking stockings. But I can tell she’s not sleeping. There’s a small crease between her brows.
When we reach the cabin, I step out first, round the car, and open the door for her.
“Wanna change into something more comfortable?” I ask as we make it inside the cabin. “I’ll get started on the fire.”
She nods before disappearing into the bedroom. I get the fire going and fill the kettle with water, letting it boil as I light the candle that’s supposed to help her relax.
I’m pouring her tea into the mug when she steps out, wearing one of my T-shirts. She kept the stockings on. Those fucking stockings are going to be the death of me.
She takes a seat on the couch, and I hand her the tea—mint with a little bit of honey.
I sit on the other end of the couch. “Can I?” I gesture to her feet. “I read that foot massages help with headaches sometimes.”
Her foot goes to my lap.
“I’m gonna…” I clear my throat, nodding toward her leg. “Can I take them off? The stockings? I can’t give you a proper massage with them on.”
“Only if you’re gentle,” she teases.
“Promise.”
I turn toward her and reach under the edge of the T-shirt. I find the first garter clasp and unclip it carefully, then the next. Her breath changes. So does mine.
“Wanna know why I wear them?”
I nod, because I can’t form any words right now.
“They make me feel like a badass.”
“Yeah?” I slowly roll it down her leg and toss it aside.
“I know they’re just stockings, but they make me feel like I can walk into a room and own it.”
I pause halfway to the second stocking. “You are a badass, with or without the stockings.” My knuckles skim the inside of her calf. I swear I feel her shiver. “And these stockings almost took me out.”
She chuckles. “You’re not so broody.”
“No?” I remove the other stocking and set it aside.
“Yeah, you’re secretly soft, like a teddy bear.”
Soft.
My dad used to throw that word around a lot.
Stop being so soft, Zayden. Aldenhursts don’t do soft. No one is going to respect you.
“Take it back.” I glare at her.
“Nope.” She just grins.
“I’m broody and cold.” I narrow my eyes and lean back a little, trying to summon my signature broody face.
She fucking laughs. “You really think that’s working right now?”
I glance at her, sighing dramatically. “Fine, but that stays between us.”
She lifts her hand and drags an invisible zipper across her lips, locking it and throwing away the key.
I shake my head, smiling like an idiot because that was fucking cute.
She’s so fucking cute.
Back to my mission. I reach for her feet and get to work. I start slowly, pressing into the arches, then working my thumbs up toward the ball of her foot.
“You’re really good at this,” she murmurs, eyes half-lidded and head falling back.
I shrug. “I might’ve googled it.”
That gets a small smile out of her. “You googled how to give me a foot massage?”
“Feet pressure points for migraines,” I add. “Went down a rabbit hole.” She scared the shit out of me last night, and I wanted to be prepared.
She shifts a little, curling her toes when I hit the right spot. “Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”
I glance at her. “Feeling better?”
She hums. “Mhm. The orgasm helped, too.”
My thumbs still just for a second. “What?”
“Orgasms. They help with the pain sometimes. It’s a release thing. Lowers the tension in my head, especially if I can come more than once. Get the blood flowing.”
Jesus Christ. This is how I go.
But she doesn’t stop there.
“I usually use my fingers,” she says casually, like she’s not completely ending me. “Sometimes the showerhead. I had this cheap bullet vibrator that broke in, like, three uses.”
I shift slightly on the couch, subtly adjusting how I’m sitting. “When did the migraines start?” I ask, trying to change the subject to safer territory.
“I don’t remember, maybe eight or nine. I know it was around when Rylee left. I’d be home alone most days. My mom worked late, and Rylee…was miles away. I didn’t want to worry her. I told my mom once about the pain. She said it was just a headache. Told me to drink water and stop being dramatic.”
“Where was your dad?” I can’t imagine her just suffering through her migraines alone.
“Not in the picture.” She exhales, like she’s tired of answering that question. “I used to cry through the pain, which made it worse. So I started googling anything that might help. Cold compresses. Caffeine. Peppermint. White noise,” she continues.
My chest tightens as I picture her crying alone in the dark.
“Sometimes they help a little. As I got older, I found that orgasms helped sometimes.” She glances at me, her eyes softer than usual. “You’re the first person I’ve ever done anything with. And with you, it wasn’t about the migraines, or the relief, but it helped a lot. It felt good. Really good.”
She’s looking at me with those eyes that make my chest ache in a way I don’t have words for yet.
“Come here, please.” I pat my lap, needing to have her closer to me.
She studies me for a second before slowly climbing onto my lap. Her legs drape over mine, arms loosely looping around my shoulders, and my hands settle at her hips.
She fits perfectly.
I rest my forehead against hers for a second, just breathing her in. “You didn’t have to tell me all of that,” I say quietly.
She leans back just enough to look at me—eyes soft, honest. “I wanted to.”
“You know that’s not why you’re here, right?” I tuck a loose braid behind her ear. “I didn’t bring you here to have sex. Not that I’m saying I don’t want you. Because, God, I do. So much it hurts.”
Her eyes widen slightly.
I let my hand move gently across her back. “I brought you here because I wanted to give you space to breathe. To let someone take care of you for once. We don’t have to do anything tonight. Or any night. You’re not…expected to give me anything, unless that’s what you really want.”
She looks down for a second and then right back at me.
Then she presses her lips to mine, barely there at first. No rush, no tongue, just lips to lips.
And something about the gentleness of it all undoes me.
I kiss her back just as softly, feeling the shape of her mouth, the warmth of her breath, and the softness of her lips.
When we pull back, she looks at me with a smile that could kill a man.
“I might have to keep you around,” she says teasingly. “For medical purposes, of course.”
I blink, trying to catch my breath. You never know what’s going to come out of her mouth.
“That orgasm? Better than anything I’ve ever given myself. Even my rose couldn’t compete.”
I groan and let my head fall back against the couch. She’s laughing, absolutely delighted with herself.
“I’m serious,” she whispers between laughs, curling into me. “You’re better than painkillers.”
And yeah, I kind of hope she does keep me around, because her laugh is my medicine.
I wrap my arms around her without thinking. “I don’t want you hurting alone anymore,” I whisper into her hair. “Promise you’ll let me know when it gets bad.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds, like she’s thinking about it. But I wait. “I promise.” She exhales into my neck.