6 #3
I try not to let myself be too excited at that, or at least, show it outwardly.
I remind myself I’m not getting attached, but it doesn’t make my suddenly racing pulse subside.
I’d given my number to people I’d been out with before, but it’s nothing like this.
I’ve never had to guard myself in this way.
Besides, it’s been, like, seven hours. After Ava wrapped things up between us so quickly, I figured I probably wouldn’t hear from her again, regardless of her, “We should do this again,” vagaries. It didn’t seem like I’d left her with the best impression.
Still, I can’t stop myself from wanting to ask her all the little mundane questions: How did she sleep, did she get home alright? While Elise turns her back on me to put the tray in the oven, I open the message.
Send me some nudes so I know you got home safe ;p
I nearly choke as soon as I see it.
Elise gives me a concerned look; I clear my throat and try to shrug that outward reaction off. “I, uh, have to answer this. I’ll be back.”
Even over text she makes me feel unprepared. Maybe I should have expected this from how forward she was last night, the way she pressed me up against her truck to kiss me.
Waiting until I’m alone in my office to open it, I spend several minutes just staring at it. Finally, I text her back, What happened to ‘good morning’?
So thats a no, she replies almost instantly, just as I’m sitting down at my desk.
No, I’m just at work, I tell her, trying not to smile at my phone like some kind of enamored idiot. It’s a losing battle. I don’t have it in me to point out the mixed signals she’s giving me, just to try and keep up with her as she changes her mind again.
All the time I spent carefully setting my overzealous feelings aside, filed away and compartmentalized, and she makes me want to sweep it all aside in an instant, to lay her across my desk and put my mouth on her.
I’ll send you something back, she promises, and it flusters me so much I opt for flipping my phone over instead of just locking it, a little irrationally terrified that my heart will beat too fast and I’ll just die on impact of seeing it.
It’s almost impossible to not immediately imagine my mate as she was a few hours ago, her bare curves dappled in moonlight, spread out beside me, dragging her fingers through her slick, sweet cunt, her nipples tight peaks as she pleasured herself.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to keep the thought contained.
Entwined with lust is a jittery, tail-wagging sort of excitement.
I can’t remember the last time I felt anything remotely similar.
It’s presumptive and possessive, and I can’t let myself give in to it—Ava isn’t my mate, she’s not.
I can’t think of her that way. These feelings aren’t real. They’re just part of my wolf’s needs.
My phone buzzes belligerently against the wood of my desk. I swallow and try to steel my nerves when I check it.
Actually im changing what i want, send me a video of you jerking off.
And i want to hear you say my name.
I stare at the text for several minutes.
I open and close the messaging app a number of times, unable to think of a response.
I answer two unimportant emails with barely a sentence each while trying to wrap my head around what I’ve gotten myself into.
I type out and erase the same text a number of times, something deflective about Ava’s lack of grammar.
The longer you make me wait the more im going to up the ante.
Now I want you to call me while you’re jerking off at work so I can hear you.
I think I’m being harassed by the horniest girl in Mystic Falls. I feel silly just staring at my phone, fighting the way my heart fucking flutters.
Fuck. I’m already smitten with her.
“I didn’t think you’d actually call,” Ava answers, voice soft and breathy through the phone as I turn the lock on my office door.
My voice is far more gravelly with need than I recognize when I reply, “Did I leave you unsatisfied?”
Ava answers with a soft little moan and the distant sound of something buzzing. It goes right to my groin, and I palm my growing hardness. I fall back on the office couch I’ve slept on more than my own bed lately.
I’m mildly concerned about how voracious this girl’s libido is. I know what my excuse is, but she’s human. She doesn’t feel the moon thrumming through her veins, urging her to sink her teeth in and complete the mating ritual.
“You’re not good at following directions; that’s one out of three. You still owe me the picture and the video.”
“Not even a ‘please,’ ” I chide weakly and shudder, rocked by the way she cuts to the chase, how she makes my blood burn with every word she carelessly throws my way. “Ava, do you have something against foreplay?”
She makes another sensual noise that grips my soul. My cock strains against my jeans.
“Do you want me to beg for it?” she asks, voice breathy and still completely earnest. “Do you want to hear me say I want you to come in your pants for me?”
My heart stutters. “I don’t know that I need that, exactly.”
“Then tell me what you want, Logan.”
“I want to see you again,” I answer automatically, before I can come up with something a little less desperately pathetic.
“And I want you to fuck me just like that again,” she coos in my ear. “That thing where you picked me up? Ugh, I need that.”
I stop short of promising her that she’ll have that, she’ll have anything, everything she wants from me. She wanted so little from me last night, I don’t want to scare her off.
Instead, I do what she asks and tell her what I want. “Only if you let me taste you first.”
“Oh, um, maybe.” Ava makes a little noise of surprise, but changes course before I can ask if I crossed a line, directing me, “Right now, I just want you to touch yourself for me.”
The perfect simplicity of that task feels like a beacon. I can’t think of the last time I wanted something enough that I didn’t feel like I had to second guess myself.
“I am,” I rasp, helpless to her whim, and with barely a thought my jeans are open, and my hand is around my cock. My need for her burns so feverishly, the tip is already dripping with pre-cum. If she told me to come right now, I would.
“I keep thinking about your weird dick,” Ava tells me, nearly teasing a laugh out of me, when the rest of her words draw the attention of my wolf. “Feeling that, like, bulge squeeze inside me, oh, Logan, I was on the moon. I think you ruined me.”
She hums a wobbly note as her vibrator’s settings change to a different pulsing rhythm. A sound too similar to a growl drags through my throat, unbidden.
“Feeling you come inside me was, um, really hot. Even with the condom I could feel it,” she murmurs, and I get a brief glimpse of what it would be like to lose my mind to my wolf entirely, to give into its needy, seeking, chasing, hunting desire.
An urge I had not allowed myself to fantasize about before, to rut into her, to feel her hot and wet and bare against me, an instinct completely base and animal.
She moans, whimpers, gasps, and for a too-short moment, nothing exists in the world but those sounds. And she called me. My heart isn’t built for this kind of hope.
“Logan? Are you still there?”
“I . . . ”
I try to answer her, really, I do, but I’m too dazed for words.
“Did you . . . ?” she asks, a note of skepticism.
I squeeze my eyes shut, blinking a few times. Christ, I already did. I clear my throat. “Can I, uh, call you back?”
She just fucking giggles and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “No, you may not, Logan. Another time, pretty boy.”
Just far enough from the receiver that I wonder if she meant for me to hear it at all, she sighs, “God, you’re adorable.”
I feel like the victim of another hit-and-run when she hangs up, an absolute mess left for dead, sprawled across my office couch.
I let out a long, shuddery breath. My heart is still thundering like I’ve run a mile, every muscle in my body suddenly jelly.
I draw in a ragged inhale, clenching my fists and releasing, raking my hands through my hair.
There’s an unfamiliar ache in my cheek. It’s different from the TMJ pain, the way my jaw always makes an audible cracking noise when I open my mouth fully.
Touching my face, I realize then I’ve just been smiling, I don’t know how long for.
I glance across the room for if I have a box of tissues in here, and spy the photo of Celine on my desk, the striped daylight cutting in through the blinds across it. I scrub a hand over my face, massaging a tense muscle in my jaw.
She can’t be my mate. She just can’t.