“Rion,” I gasped as he filled me completely, stretching me in that exquisite way that was almost too much and not nearly enough all at once.
He stilled, giving me a moment to adjust, his dark eyes locked on mine. The moonlight caught in them, turning them from warm brown to something almost silver. He looked wild and magnificent, the ancient predator made modern, yet his touch remained gentle, reverent.
“You feel…” he began, then shook his head as if words failed him.
“I know,” I whispered, lifting my hips to encourage him to move. “Me too.”
He began to move then, slow and measured at first, watching my face as if memorizing my reactions. His careful control, the restraint he always maintained, was still there—but now it was focused on bringing me pleasure rather than holding himself back. One of his large hands slid down my body, thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves where we were joined.
I cried out at the contact, my back arching off the bed. The dual sensations—his steady thrusts and the expert circles of his thumb—were almost overwhelming. I clutched at his shoulders, my fingers tangling in the soft fur there, anchoring myself to him as waves of pleasure built within me.
“Let go, Clara,” he murmured, his deep voice vibrating through me. “I want to watch you.”
His command, combined with another deliberate thrust that hit just right, sent me over the edge. I shattered around him, waves of pleasure so intense they stole my breath and my thoughts, leaving me completely immersed in sensation. Through the haze of my release, I felt him find his own peak, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he buried his face in my neck.
We lay tangled together in the aftermath, our breathing slowly returning to normal.
We would still have to face the challenges of our relationship—the public scrutiny, Mrs. Wilson’s well-meaning but frustrating intervention, the deeper prejudices lurking in our community—but tonight was just for us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“You’re driving too fast,” I said, clutching the door handle as Rion’s truck barreled down the country road towards my parents’ house.
“I’m going exactly the speed limit,” he replied, his large hands gripping the steering wheel with an intensity that betrayed his nerves.
“Well, it feels too fast.” I reached over and placed my hand on his thigh. “And you’re tense. They’re going to love you, Rion. I promise.”
He shot me a skeptical look, one eyebrow raised. “Most parents don’t dream of their daughter bringing home a seven-foot-tall minotaur.”
“My parents aren’t ‘most parents,’” I insisted, though my stomach twisted with anxiety. “They’re open-minded. Progressive.”
“In theory,” Rion said, echoing my own unspoken worry. “Everyone’s progressive until their daughter starts dating a monster.”
I squeezed his leg. “You’re not a monster.”
“Tell that to my horns.” But he managed a small smile, covering my hand with his much larger one. “I’m sorry. I’m making this harder than it needs to be.”
“No, you’re being honest.” I turned my hand over to link our fingers. “And I’m nervous too. But I know my parents. Once they see how happy we are together, they’ll come around.”
Rion nodded but remained silent as we turned onto the tree-lined lane leading to my childhood home. The familiar sight of the two-story white farmhouse with its wraparound porch sent a mixture of comfort and trepidation through me.
“It’s beautiful,” Rion said as he pulled into the gravel driveway. “Just like you described.”
“Wait until you see inside,” I said, trying to inject enthusiasm into my voice. “Mom’s probably been cooking for days. She stress-bakes.”
“Like someone else I know,” he teased, and I felt myself relax slightly at his attempt at normalcy.
Before we could exit the truck, the front door swung open and my mother stepped onto the porch, my father close behind her. They stood side by side, frozen in place as they took in the sight of Rion unfolding his massive frame from the driver’s seat.
Here we go.
“Deep breath,” I murmured, more to myself than to Rion, and climbed out of the truck.
“Clara!” My mother’s voice sounded higher than usual as she descended the porch steps. Her eyes darted between me and Rion, who was now standing awkwardly beside the vehicle.
“Hi, Mom.” I moved towards her for a hug, which she returned on autopilot, her body stiff. Over her shoulder, I caught my father’s wide-eyed stare.
“And you must be Rion,” my mother said as we separated, her smile strained but present. “Clara’s told us so much about you.”
