Page 64 of Watch Me Burn
I zip-tie her hands to the headboard again and settle between her thighs, my hands gripping to anchor her. The first sweep of my tongue causes her to shudder, and she moans behind the gag.
“Quiet.” My breath ghosts over her skin.
Over the next hour, three more climaxes tear through her. Two from my mouth and one from my cock buried deep inside her. I crawl up her trembling body, andher eyes flutter open, glazed and sated. I remove her gag, and she sighs, her pink tongue moistening her lips.
“Stay.” Her hand reaches for me before she remembers. It drops to the mattress. “Please stay tonight.”
The soft plea in her voice threatens to shatter my resolve. Everything inside me screams to tear away the mask, the clothes, the lies, and give her everything she’s asking for.
“I just want to touch your hair once when your head’s between my thighs. I bet it’s so soft.”
The longing in her voice cuts deep. She wants such simple intimacies, things I deny her because of my own shortcomings.
Alcohol and exhaustion start to pull her under. Her breathing deepens, evening out as sleep claims her.
I slip out of the house and back through the woods, guilt gnawing at me for every secret I’m keeping. Truth’s walls are closing in, and when they crash down, I’ll lose more than my mask.
Chapter sixteen
Luna
The cold air bites at my cheeks as I climb out of my truck outside Hansen’s General Store, my boots crunching on the thin layer of snow that accumulated overnight. Not much—maybe an inch—but enough to make the roads treacherous and coat the sidewalks in a slick, dangerous sheen. Thanksgiving is less than a week away, and winter is still a month away, but it already feels like it, with snow coming at least a couple of days a week now.
I slip as I step away from the truck, catching myself on the door handle. She feels like she’s on her last legs, and I suspect I’m going to have to get a new one in the spring. But I can’t bring myself to let her go. She was Grandpa’s truck and is the last real tangible thing I have of him, aside from the sanctuary.
As I close the door, that familiar prickle of awareness, the one I’m so used to now that it’s stopped bothering me most of the time, crawls up my spine.
I’m being watched.
Damn it, wolf! Can’t you just stop being a creep?
I pause, scanning the street. My eyes sweep across the snow-dusted buildings, the parked cars, and the bare winter trees lining Main Street. Nothing moves except the occasional snowflake drifting from the gray sky above.
I shake my head and trudge toward the store entrance as I swallow back a yawn.The exhaustion that’s now a constant companion refuses to lift. Besides my wolf’s nightly visits, my bladder has decided sleep is overrated, dragging me out of bed multiple times a night to pee. I’d been sure another UTI was brewing, but the test came back clean. No infection.
My muscles ache from last night and this morning’s work. A coyote with a mangled paw needed surgery, and I spent hours hunched over the surgical table. Though exhausted, I’m happy knowing he won’t lose it as long as I can keep any infection at bay.
I push through the heavy glass door to the store, the familiar chime announcing my arrival. The warmth envelops me, along with the comforting scent of coffee and the faint mustiness of old wooden shelves that have stood here since before I was born. I stomp my boots on the worn mat, shaking off the snow.
“Luna!” Betty Hansen looks up from behind the counter, her silver hair catching the overhead lights. “Those medical supplies you ordered came in yesterday. Let me grab them for you.”
“Thanks, Betty.” I unwrap my scarf and unzip my coat, grateful for the heat coming from the old radiators along the walls.
She disappears into the back room, and I make my way to the counter, passing shelves stocked with everything from canned goods to fishing tackle. This place tries to be everything to everyone in our small town, and somehow it manages. Most of the time.
I stare out the front window at Main Street. All of downtown Aspen Ridge stretches before me—the post office next door, Nancy’s Diner with its faded red awning, the library across the street, and the gas station on the corner. That’s it. The entirety of our bustling metropolis.
There’s something about the simplicity of it that I love. There aren’t many places like this anymore that haven’t died off due to the growth of the surrounding cities.
“Luna, honey!”
I turn to see Eleanor and Frank pushing through the front door, Eleanor’s rhinestone glasses glinting under the fluorescent lights as she navigates the slippery threshold.
“Hi, Eleanor. Hi, Frank.” I wave as they bring another gust of cold air that makes the door chimes dance.
Frank catches Eleanor’s elbow as she almost loses her footing on a patch of slush tracked in by previous customers. Probably me.
“Careful there.” He steadies her.
