A Killing Moon

by Alexis D Craig

  I tangle my fingers in his as I step away, Finn falling in behind me as I fish out my keys from my pocket. He’s a silent sentry on my doorstep, close enough for me to feel his heat, and it’s all I can do not to reach back and touch him. That kiss told me a lot, like how hard his body is underneath those fine threads, all beautifully defined muscle and strength, and if I play my cards right… At this point, I’m dealing from the bottom of the deck with no damn shame at all.

  The house is quiet. A single side-table lamp on in the living room at the back of the house is the only thing visible from the front door and down the hallway. There are pictures on the upper half of the walls and shoes lined up against the bright white wainscoting, but I’m not here to give him a tour of anything but my panties, at least for now.

  Once I lead him to the living room, he slips an arm around my waist and pulls me tightly to him next to my couch. This kiss dispenses with the niceties of the first, open-mouthed and wet from the very beginning. My hands on his shoulders are like gripping granite, they’re so solid. He lifts me into him again, like I weigh next to nothing, and Goddess, if that’s not the hottest thing ever. I’m not short or particularly small, but I’m deceptively light—hollow bones, dontcha know—even if most people don’t treat me like it.

  His hum of pleasure as I wrap my legs around his hips has me grinding against him, the hardness I feel against my pussy through my jeans not something I’m willing to ignore. All at once, the world spins, and I feel like I’m falling, only for us to come to rest in the enveloping comfy corner of my black leather couch. I’m straddling his lap, and if we didn’t have clothes on, this would be one good deep breath away from serious fucking.

  “You’re trying to kill me?” He huffs a laugh as he rests his head on my shoulder. His hands are blistering through the denim where they rest on my hips, and I’m tempted to wiggle just to see how he reacts to the added stimulation. The hitch in his breath and the way his eyes lose focus for a second make it more than worth it to me.

  His question, though…. No, now’s not the time. I’m not giving this up solely because of the mission. I’ve earned this, dammit. “Seems counterproductive, no?” I tug at the hem of his sweater with a smirk to make my point, and his answering grin has my thighs clenching in sheer want.

  “Ladies first.” That’s all the warning I get before my own sweater’s gone and—sweet mother of mercy—his hands are on my tits, and it’s the best thing ever. His hands are so big, covering them completely in calloused warmth, each slight twitch or breath making me squirm in his lap, even through my bra. “Fuck, yes.”

  There’s a fabric-tearing sound, and my open bra is hanging from my shoulders in tatters, and I don’t give a damn because Finn’s lips. Damn, his lips, wrapped around my nipple and doing things to me that have me pulling his hair and ripping words out of me, begging as I grind up and down against the hard ridge behind his zipper. The soft shift of his beard against my sensitive skin is making me completely nuts.

  “Finn… please…” I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but I’m damn close to shredding his sweater and sending him home shirtless with cashmere under my talons. He seems to sense this, though, and pulls back long enough to draw off the offending garment and throw it in the direction mine sailed.

  Finn clothed is a special treat. Finn shirtless is a naughty fantasy you indulge in late at night after everyone’s gone to bed. So good and such a terrible idea, but not so bad you want to stop. I can’t stop touching his skin, so warm and soft, a light sprinkling of freckles across his incredibly strong shoulders, his perfectly sculpted pecs and abs for frickin’ days. If I’m asleep, leave me to it. I got things to do.

  Unable to help myself, I lean into him and press my lips to his neck, just below his ear. My teeth scraping against the skin make him arch up into me with a curse, and suddenly we’re skin to skin, and this is the best day of my life.

  He’s warm, so damn warm and soft and smells so good. Holy hell. I lick my way down his neck, pausing to bite here and there. So many places I want my mouth and tongue, my nails digging into his tautly muscled pecs and running down his sides, and then I’m suddenly on my back on the couch cushions with my wrists pinned in one of his hands over my head.

  “You, Cora,” his breath is heaving as he tries to talk to me, “are a damn menace.” His crooked smile as he looks over my half-naked and exposed form tells me that’s not an insult. Of course, the heavy feel of his hard cock against my hip also underscores the point. With light fingertips, he draws his hand down my arm, starting at my wrist and trailing up to my armpit, where the ticklishly light touches set me wiggling. “Stop?”

  His tone is teasing, even if his eyes aren’t. There’s no threat here; he’s not so far gone he’d overlook my feelings in this. That, and seeing his swollen, shiny, red lips poised over my puckered nipple has me shaking my head.

  “Use your words, sweetheart.” He nuzzles my breast, his eyes on my face as he waits, his free hand tracing a curlicue pattern on my stomach just above the waistband of my jeans.

  I struggle against his hand on my wrists before looking him in the eyes. The only word my brain can manage to force past my lips is, “Please.”

  His smile is feral, predatory, every bit the wolf he is as he flicks open my jeans and slips them down my hips a bit. My legs are trapped, both by where they’re tangled with his and now the jeans, but his fingertips on the tiny scrap of silver silk between my legs is unmistakable.

  “So pretty,” he breathes against my stomach, the brush of his beard making me arch and groan.

  He presses his nose to my skin above the elastic, taking in my unadulterated scent for the first time. There’s no masking who I am now, and part of me is nervous to be so vulnerable to a Lupine—an exposed belly can be a killer in the wrong hands—and part of me just does not care in this moment because he’s dragging down my panties and jeans to my ankles, and the moment one foot is free, he shifts it to the back of the couch as he moves in between my splayed legs.

  There’s no mistaking the intent here. His hand on my wrists is just as strong as it ever was, but as he looks me over, I start to feel like a four-course meal in front of a starving man.

  “Leave them here.” He presses on my bound hands for a moment before the pressure lightens considerably. I nod, and he raises an eyebrow. “What do you say?”

  Part of me wants to balk, but damn if this isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever done, so I respond, “Yes.”

  His now free hands move to massage my inner thighs, not moving up, fingertips rubbing circles into my flesh and so good. “Yes, what?” he prompts.

  “Yes. Sir.”

  A slow grin unfurls across his lips as his eyes glitter in the shadows of the room. “Good girl.”

  * * *

  FINN

  Seeing this woman spread out before me is transformative. I’m not normally this… aggressive on a first time, but something about her brings out all my inner dominance, and fuck yes please. Indulging a bit, I lean in to mouth the point of her hip bone, maybe with a little teeth, but every time I brush my teeth or beard against her, she makes this noise that leaves my dick throbbing in my jeans, and damn. So much perfect brown skin, and she’s all mine for the night.

  “Now,” I’m rubbing circles on her inner thighs again, fingers up minutely higher, “where was I?” The closer I get to her heat, the more she squirms, but to her credit, her hands stay exactly where I put them.

  My favorite thing in bed, if anyone were to ask me, is eating a woman out. Her taste, the feel of her tender flesh against my tongue and lips and face, goddamn, the sounds she makes as I drive her insane. I live for that, and I know beyond anything else, any woman who spent time horizontal with me is guaranteed at least that much pleasure, though I’ve always been an overachiever.

  When my nose brushes her damp curls and she trembles beneath my hands, I can feel I'm in for a wild ride. Licking her taste from my lips, I make sure she’s watching as I nu
zzle in closer. Her moan is nothing short of pornographic, and it makes me smile. Then I spread her lips and take my time learning her folds and doing everything I can to make her insane, following each and every gasp and moan and plea for more. Every brush of her clit by my lips and tongue is greeted with a helpless wail as her hips rise to my mouth. She’s close, and gods, I want it.

  “Such a sweet pussy.” I make a point of humming the compliment against her clit, and the keening whine that accompanies it has me grinding against the couch for just a little more friction. She’s going to make me come in my pants if I’m not careful. The way she twists her hips and moans when I tease her clit with my lips and beard are so perfect. She’s close, and I want to blow her mind.

  I slip two fingers deep into her, curving them to rub the swollen spot inside her tight channel, and suddenly she’s falling apart all over my face and hands. So slippery and responsive, I can’t get enough of the way she groans and grinds against every gentle abrasion of my mustache and beard against her tender flesh.

  Her second release hits immediately on the heels of her first, heralded by her strong thighs wrapping around my head to hold me in place as she rides it out. I may suffocate, but damn, what a way to go. And, yeah, it’s hard to be humble when I sit up and she’s lying there, mouth open, breath sawing in and out of her lungs, face flushed, and hands exactly where I left them.

  “Good girl.” I chuckle as she half-opens one eye at my comment, and I make sure to give her a show of running a hand down my face and licking her juices from my palm. “Delicious.”

  * * *

  CORA

  If that was not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, I’ll eat my phone. I groan and stretch, still breathless and feeling tiny aftershocks from a pair of truly spectacular orgasms. That normally only happens when I’m alone with my battery-operated friends, so Finn’s skill is definitely commendable.

  “May I?” I wiggle my fingers, but don’t move my hands, and he drops his head, snickering. Normally, submission isn’t something I’m into, but in the moment, he’d been quite persuasive.

  Finn nods, streaks of color across his cheekbones as he gives me a hand up, pulling me until I’ve straddled his lap again, arms wreathing his neck. There’s just something hot about being naked and he’s still half-clothed.

  “That mouth could be a weapon of mass seduction,” I purr against his neck as I nibble at his earlobe.

  His fingers contract on my waist as he throws his head back in laughter. “You’re terrible.” Even as he scolds me for my questionable—awesome—pun, he can’t seem to stop the sigh my attentions generate.

  I grind my hips against his in a tight figure-eight and he thrusts up against me, biting my neck and collarbone as he breathes my name, a soft, needy sound followed by a very filthy curse. I do it again, because holy crap is that hot, and bite his neck at the same time along the muscle right where it meets his shoulder, and he thrashes underneath me, damn near hard enough to unseat me.

  “I think,” I whisper after I take my time tracing the shell of his ear with my tongue, “turnabout is fair play. No?” His groan as I slide down his chest to my knees in front of him is the kind of thing I’ll be hearing in my dreams from now on. My nipples rubbing over his skin makes it hard to remember my destination.

  He watches me through hooded eyes as I take advantage of my position to explore his fantasy-fulfilling abs, one lick at a time. I’m shameless and do not care even a little bit. Feeling the muscle jump under the pressure of my lips is such a damn heady power trip, every hiss of pleasure and whispered plea only riling me up further.

  Opening his jeans, the first shock is he’s gone commando. It’s damn cold outside, and he’s in his altogether. “Laundry day?” I smirk and press kisses and nibbles to his recently revealed v-line, tearing a groan from him that makes my thighs clench. I’m not worried about the answer as I get shock number two.

  Whoever got the intel on Finn’s—ahem—assets hadn’t lied. Impressive size, proportional to his overall frame, and holy gods thick, I might as well have received a winning lottery ticket. “Jackpot,” I mutter to myself as I start to stroke him. He’s been hard for a bit, sticky precum flowing down the sides of his cock, and I make sure to maintain eye contact as I stroke him and then lick my palm to sample the main course’s salty, musky flavor.

  Rather than sprint to the main event, I take my time, learning the terrain, swiping my tongue against the shaft in spots, licking and finally taking his balls in my mouth for a thorough tongue-lashing. He whimpers as he drops his head against the back of the couch, his hands fisted in his lap.

  The amount of trust he shows in me is amazing, and I’m not going to wait anymore. Content I’ve teased him enough, I settle in for the floor show. I flick my tongue around the head of his cock, finding the essence from the source even better than my secondhand taste.

  “Look at me.” I wait until it’s all eyes on me to take him in my mouth, moaning at the heavy feel of his flesh on my tongue, inching my way down with one hand holding his hips in place while the other massages his balls. This? I love this, I live for this, and pride myself on giving a phenomenal blowjob, or at least the one by which all others will be judged.

  “Oh, fuck, Cora,” he grinds out as I slip my mouth further down the shaft, taking him in and out in an easy rhythm that lets me take more of him in a little at a time, until my lips are finally flush against the base. If I stick out my tongue, I could lick his balls. I do that once or twice, just to hear his needy whines and because deepthroating is an art, not simply a skill. Once I’m comfortable, I pick up the pace, sliding all the way up and down, milking him with my tongue as I go, listening for the telltale signs he’s close, and easing back just enough to keep him right on the edge. It’s cruel, but when I do finally let him, he’ll thank me. Right after he regains consciousness.

  His hips are trembling under my hands. I look up to see his chest heaving and the cords of his neck standing out as he strains to keep still, then finally, finally, I slide all the way down, swallowing his cock with my tongue massaging the underside of the whole length as I take him down to the base and hold it, my throat working him, pulling him over the edge with a shout that makes me glad my neighbors are on vacation.

  When I finally let him slip out of my mouth, clean as a whistle, he’s growling and wheezing broken, shuddering breaths with his arm thrown over his eyes and his head too heavy for his neck to lift from the back of the couch.

  I may be a terrible human being, but I give great head.

  * * *

  FINN

  The icy cold wetness of a bottle of water pressed into my hand brings me back to this plane of reality. When I open an eye, which takes a surprising amount of effort, I see Cora situating herself at the other end of the couch, still naked—bless her—cracking the seal on her own bottle. Like she didn’t just leave me completely wrecked and spent in her living room.

  “I… that was… thank you?” I chuckle because clearly the ability to string words together coherently is still a way off for me. After tucking myself back in my jeans, I kill half the water bottle and try again. “That was impressive.”

  Her grin is all teeth and dimples and adorable as she holds up her bottle in toast. “You, too. Certainly hadn’t been what I was looking for, but I’m glad I found it. Damn.”

  While we both ponder our next move, I finally look around the room. Spacious, with both east and west walls nothing but built-in mahogany bookcases stuffed to bursting, and the wall in front of us is dominated by two sets of French doors separated by a mint green wall with a rolltop desk and a TV mounted above it. It feels very lived in, authentic.

  “So, what’s a Corvid doing slumming it in Calumny?” The bar’s a dangerous place on a good day, known for fights and a lot worse. The idea of a refined woman like her making time in a place like that doesn’t really sit well with me, but I also don’t want to overstep. It’s a conundrum.

  She drops her head with a ruefu
l grin. “Honestly?”

  I gesture for her to continue because I’m legit curious.

  “I was in a mood.” She rolls her eyes, likely at herself as much as the situation. “Shifter bars are hard to come by outside of major cities, and I didn’t feel like driving all the way into the city or catching the Red Line.”

  I can appreciate her point, so I nod. “All the same, maybe not that one, okay? I’d worry.” Thing is, I really would. Corvids are known to be intellectual, delicate, smart as hell but physically on the fragile side. That’s not a good fit for that place at all. “I’m not in there all the time, and I’m definitely not their normal customer. I just...” Feeling like an overprotective asshole, I figure I should go for broke, and she’ll either go with it or she won’t. “It’s a rough place, and I’d feel bad if you got hurt.”

  Her lips twitch as her smile evolves into pure mischief. “Perish the thought.” She sets her empty bottle of water down by her foot.

  “Thank you.” She doesn’t shut me down completely, so I feel a little better, at least until I see my watch. “Damn.”

  “Something wrong?”

  I’m expected back at the palace at some point tonight, and there’s nothing like an APB to put a damper on an otherwise stellar date. “So, I hope you don’t think this is terrible,” her raised eyebrow is expressive as hell, speaking volumes with just a tiny quirk as she rearranges herself on the couch with her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around them, “but I have to head out. Not that this wasn’t incredible.”

  Her dark eyes sparkle in the faint light. “Ah. Okay. No worries. I enjoyed myself as well. Excuse me for a moment?”

  “Of course.” She is a living, breathing, work of art as she glides in front of me on the other side of her coffee table, naked as you please. It’s enough I’m rethinking my whole exit strategy and considering postponing until the morning, damn the consequences. An ass that fine deserves to be worshipped. Early. Often. Thoroughly.