Chapter Five

VIOLET WOKE UP with her head on the crushed pillow and a blanket around her that hadn’t been there last night when she must have dozed off on Mikel’s sofa. The man in question was nowhere in sight, though the fire in the hearth was high and bright and the stove door cracked open while the flames devoured a new stack of wood, so she knew he’d been up.

She stretched, folded the blanket, and set the pillow on top before ambling back down the hall, resolving to talk to him about the sleeping situation. Her back could tell she hadn’t slept in a bed last night, and she was about a quarter of his size—no doubt it was way more uncomfortable for him. Still half asleep, she bumped the door to the bedroom open and skidded to a halt at the sight that greeted her.

Mikel. Of course, he used the bathroom; she’d just never really thought about it. There was so much skin. He was all lean muscle. Violet watched rivulets of water follow the contours of his arms, his chest, the hard lines of his abs, and the V that dipped lower, cutting off abruptly above the white towel around his waist. Abruptly, she remembered what it felt like to be pressed up against him that night in the woods, the roughness of his hands on her hips and on her breasts, the growl of his voice in her ear.

“Morning.” His lips were turned up in that stupid half smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes.

He made no move to leave the bathroom doorway or to cover his freshly showered self. He just let her look, and Violet did, too long, until she was imagining in vivid detail what it would be like to cross the room and kiss him again, to touch him and feel the hot smear of his cock on her thigh and higher.

Mikel licked his lips, and the spell broke. Violet remembered abruptly that everyone in the Bluff had an overactive nose and wondered if he could smell how much she enjoyed the sight of him. The humor still on his face suggested the affirmative.

“Morning,” she finally replied, determined to ignore the tension that was thick in the room. “Guess I fell asleep last night.”

He only nodded and finally pushed off the doorframe. He stopped beside her when she thought he’d pass.

“Red’ll be here at nine,” he said.

Violet’s brain registered the words somewhere far away like she was hearing them from underwater. His proximity made her ache, and she realized for the first time how affected she was by what happened in the woods, how much she wanted to go back to the press of him between her legs and that low, rough demand in her ear, “Tell me to mate you, Violet,” and be brave enough to say yes.

A callused fingertip grazed the side of her neck while he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she honest to god shivered.

“Makin’ pancakes,” he said with a smile, like he had no idea the words rumbled in his chest and sounded like sex.

Violet swallowed and nodded, watched him leave, then closed the door and sunk down behind it.

 

“YOU’LL BE CAREFUL,” Mikel said to Red, and it wasn’t a question.

Red swooned at it, and Violet tried to decipher the oceans of subtext in the conversation that she was missing.

“Here.” He pulled a black card out of his pocket and held it out to Violet. She reached for it before she realized it was a credit card and snatched her hand back.

“Oh, no. I’m good.” It felt wrong to take his money and icky. All her complicated feelings about him and their situation threatened to come to the surface, so she turned to Red instead. “We getting out of here?”

“Violet.” Her name in his mouth made something stir in her blood. He looked serious for a second then seemed to reconsider. “Starbucks,” he said with that slanted half smile, like that was all it would take to persuade her, “and lunch.”

The offer was sincere, but still, she warred with herself. She didn’t want to rely on his money.

“I’ll hang onto it, boss.” Red waited for him to nod, then tucked the card into the pocket of her obscenely tight jeans. She stood out against the backdrop of everyone else Violet had seen in town. Starkly. Red was dark haired and dark eyed with red streaks and a fashion sense closer to her own. Violet was eager to get to know her. Most interestingly of all, her brown irises were permanently marked with a ring of gold.

“I’ll wait in the van, okay?”

Red didn’t give Violet a chance to reply before she was gone, then it was just the two of them, alone in the shop for reasons Violet didn’t understand.

“Uh, well, bye.”

Mikel nodded, hands in his pockets. “Violet,” he said when her hand was on the door handle. Mischief danced in his eyes. “Try to be good.”

It should have pissed her off, patronized her, but instead she had to turn away before he could see her smile.

There was a moment, walking out of the shop door, looking between the big, black van that was idling in the drive and the forest beyond, where the urge to run struck her.

“That was quick.” Red hung out of the driver’s window to yell at her, and just like that, better judgement prevailed.

“So, how’re you liking the Bluff?” Red asked after they’d pulled away from the house and were flying down a narrow road through thick trees faster than Violet thought would be strictly in keeping with Mikel’s idea of “being careful.”

“It’s different.” She was selective with her answer.

“Yeah,” Red agreed. “Missing home?”

And suddenly, thanks to just the mention of it, she was. Guilt and sadness choked her. She nodded, watching the trees whip by, wondering what Lila thought, if she was okay. Her companion seemed to sense her somber mood, and they were quiet until they hit the town. Violet told herself to pay attention, to try to get an idea of this place, to learn her way around. They turned left then right, then right again, and she already knew it was going to take more than one trip. Forest Bluff seemed like a good-sized town, and it looked totally, bizarrely normal.

The houses were large, well-spaced and well-tended. The cars in their driveways were newer, clean bodied, and well maintained. It reminded her of her neighborhood in Frankston, which was home to the wealthiest families there.

“Okay, two nightstands for Mrs. James,” Red announced as they pulled up to the curb and jerked to an impressive stop.

It dawned on Violet then that they were delivering furniture. Red already had the back doors open and was setting the second of the pieces on the pavement when Violet joined her.

“Think you can get one?”

Violet nodded and followed her up the driveway ahead, struggling a little with the weight of the solid wood. They stopped at the door, and Red rang the bell. The woman who answered appraised them carefully.

“Morning, Mrs. James,” Red offered politely. “Brought your nightstands from the shop.”

“Daniella Hawthorne’s mate?” the woman asked, in a tone that struck Violet as rude. If Red noticed, she gave no sign of it.

“That’s me,” she agreed, though Violet thought she heard something false in the cheer.

“I’ll be coming by next week for some new pieces for my daughter. Tell her, won’t you?” The woman stepped back and opened the door.

“Of course,” Red agreed.

Violet bent to pick up the nightstand before the woman spoke again. “And you are?”

Red went to answer, but Violet was quicker. “Violet Page.” She figured the more people knew her name, the more there was a chance it might get to the right person to get her out of here. “I’m new to town.”

“She’s Mikel’s claim,” Red added, and the change in the woman’s face at this information was fascinating. Her expression darkened, and Violet could see the suspicion, feel herself being appraised.

“I didn’t think the Davis family was allowed to mate. I think it’s best you wait outside.”

Her temper flared.

“Actually, Mrs. James,” Red said coolly, hefted one nightstand into the open doorway, and turned around and shoved the second in behind it, “your furniture is now delivered so we’ll just be on our way.”

Violet let herself be snatched by the arm and led back down the driveway. It was only surprise that made her follow.

“What’s her problem?” she asked as soon as they were back in the van.

“She’s a stuck-up bitch,” Red replied, already swinging the big van out of the residential street and back onto the forest-lined main road.

Violet was ready to ask more, but her eyes caught up ahead on an attendant’s booth, a barrier, and what looked like a car leaving into the forest.

“Hey, is that the way out?” She hadn’t meant to let so much urgency creep into her voice, but it was right there. She’d just watched someone leave!

“They won’t let us out, babe.” She loathed the pity in Red’s voice.

“Look, you seem really cool, and I appreciate you being nice to me, but I really need to go home.” They were nearing the checkpoint, and Violet was gripping the door handle, torn between looking at the flimsy barrier, standing between her and freedom, and Red, who could take her there. “Please, if you can help me, I’ll get you money, or help you get home too, or whatever you want.”

The checkpoint came, whizzed past, and Violet wanted to puke. She sagged in her seat and told herself she was stupid for hoping. Just because Red seemed decent, kind, and pretty normal, that meant nothing in this town. Everyone here was subscribed to the insanity; it was hopeless.

The girl beside her was quiet, pensive, and Violet tried to understand her. Mikel had said she was an outsider, another prisoner—was she so resigned to being stuck here that she’d given up, or did she actually like it?

The truck brakes screeched, then they were spinning in a U turn Violet was positive wasn’t legal nor in keeping with Mikel’s demand of careful. Hope burst hot and traitorous inside her.

“They won’t let us out,” Red told her again, like a warning, “but Dani did this for me in the beginning, and it helped.”

Violet didn’t know what to say, not with the barrier coming back into view, not when she was crippled with thoughts of Lila and normality. Her heart was in her mouth by the time they pulled up to the booth.

“Name?” the attendant demanded. Then, he looked up, and Violet could sense the moment the interaction changed from the mundane to the menacing.

“Red Hawthorne.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hawthorne, you’re not permitted to leave the Bluff. You can turn around in the next lane.” The words were cordial, but there was a hardness in his face, like he was waiting, expecting trouble.

“Why?” Red demanded before Violet could speak, though there was no bite in the question.

“You’ve not completed the change,” the attendant shot back. The more Violet looked at him, the more he looked like a soldier, short-cropped hair and severe dark eyes. “And your passenger is unidentified.”

“I’m Violet Page,” she butted in before Red could beat her to it.

“Mikel Davis’s girl?”

The question stunned her for a second. “No, I—”

“Yes,” Red said. “She thinks she’s authorized to leave. Could you check?”

“We both know she’s not on the list, and she can’t pass the test.” Violet could sense his confusion now. “Go on your way, Ms. Hawthorne. I can’t let either of you through. If Daniella needs something from outside, then she’ll have to send someone else until you finish your change.”

“I was kidnapped,” Violet cut in. “I’m from Frankston; my Dad’s Magnus Page, the mayor. I need to get home.”

He waved them off. Red moved to put the truck into drive, but Violet caught her hand.

“Wait,” she demanded, “what’s the test?”

“Ms. Haw—”

“Just show her,” Red demanded.

His jaw worked under his skin, but he leaned forward in the booth, and Violet watched his eyes turn gold banded then back to their regular dusky brown. “Your turn,” then a beat later, “Okay. Do I need to call for backup?”

“No, you’ve been a doll. We’re going, thank you.” This time Violet didn’t fight when Red put the truck into drive and turned them around.

“It’s not Mikel or me keeping you here,” she explained, her voice soft. “I hated Dani for the longest time. I left people behind too, but it’s done, and my life here is good.”

The loss, the fury at being so close again and getting turned back was still too thick to let Violet go. She didn’t respond, didn’t get out of the truck to help at the next two delivery stops. When Red got back in after the third, Violet finally spoke.

“Sorry, don’t mean to be a dick.”

Red was quick to pat her arm.

“No worries. It’s tough at first. I remember.”

Violet tried to offer her a smile. “How long have you been here?”

“Almost a year, dated Dani for two before that. Long distance,” she recalled with a smile. “I’m from New York. Wanted to finish culinary school before we moved in together.”

“You knew?” Violet couldn’t comprehend coming here willingly.

“Oh, hell no. Took me months to forgive her too, but they’re not like us. The fact that she waited at all—she really loves me. It took some work, but we’re happy.” Violet supposed the smile Red offered her was supposed to be reassuring. “What about Mikel? Girl, let me tell you, the entire town has not been able to shut up about him claiming someone. He keeps to himself in a big way, had some nice offers before, but he’s never been interested. Then you come along and wow.”

“I don’t even know him.” Yet offers made her hot and defensive somehow.

Red patted her thigh.

“It’s normal to be pissed. I was pissed with Dani in the beginning, and I loved her. He’s different with you,” Red mused, and Violet hated that part of her sat up to take note. “Anyone with eyes can see he’s gorgeous, and he’s like”—she waved a hand and searched for the word—“so intense and interested in you. He called me last night and asked me to bring you today. It was the most I’d ever heard him say. He wants you to be happy here.”

Violet didn’t have the emotional energy to figure out how she felt about that or the fact Red had apparently romanticized Mikel’s request.

“What did the guy at the exit mean about your finishing the change?” she asked instead.

Red blinked at her across the cab. “You’ve noticed the eyes, right?”

Violet nodded.

“After you mate, yours will be like this while your body gets used to the new DNA or whatever. Once you can control them like the guard did, you’ve got control of your perks too, and you’re done with the change. Then, you can get on the list to leave.”

“So, mating…” The word alone threatened to make her blush, but she reminded herself she was bigger, badder than that. “They have to what, bite you? Moonlit ritual? Another bow and arrow deal?”

Red laughed.

“Guess it’s not surprising Mikel hasn’t filled you in, since he doesn’t talk much. It’s fucking,” she said, unabashed. “The best fucking of your life.” She winked, and this time, Violet did blush. “Technically for them, it’s breeding, but no guarantees it’ll stick, obviously.” She gestured to herself. “He’ll breed you and mark you.”

They pulled into the parking lot of the same Starbucks Mikel had taken her to the previous night. “You like this, right?”

Violet’s brain was still stuck on breeding and marking, caught on Mikel’s voice, his breath hot on the back of her neck in the woods. “Tell me to mate you, Violet.”

“It doesn’t hurt bad if they do it right, and I bet Mikel will.” Red reassured her at her silence.

Her gaze zeroed in on the pale skin where Red had pulled the neck of her sweater aside to show her, and the silvered scar there, round and…teeth shaped, she realized. Violet’s brain short circuited.

“You said breeding, but Daniella…Dani…she’s a woman, right?” Apparently, her brain to mouth filter had also crapped out.

“Two words,” Red said, looking positively delighted. “Werepenis. Or is that one word? Either way.”

Her brain just flat refused to absorb that as fact. A hand landed on hers on the seat, Red seeming to sense her distress.

“I know it’s a lot, but you really will be okay. The Bluff is a pretty cool place, you seem like a cool chick. It’ll get easier, promise.”

Violet shook her head. “And what if I don’t want to be mated or bitten or any of that?”

This seemed to shock her. “You’re probably the only woman in town under forty who feels that way. I mean, not many admit it because of the history weirdness but girl.” Red shook her hand like it would wake her up. “Mikel’s hot, he’s actually a good guy, and he has that whole dark and mysterious thing down pat. Something made him choose you. I say at least give it a chance.”

It didn’t sit right with Violet that Red seemed so against her having a choice. “What’s the alternative, if I’m not interested in any of that?”

She felt the temperature in the cab drop.

“Well, most of them would just uh—make sure it got done.” Violet was equal parts disturbed by this development and pleased that Red seemed to understand it was fucking wrong. “But if you don’t get mated, I guess, uh, he’d probably be in trouble, and I imagine you’d be under the bow again because he couldn’t integrate you. Maybe they’d give you one more shot with someone else; I don’t know.”

A pause hung pregnant between them.

“You really don’t like him?”

“No,” Violet was quick to say. “He’s—” she searched herself for the right word, the right feeling and came up empty. “I just—I don’t know him and now I’m supposed to… It’s a lot.”

Red squeezed her hand. “Yeah. Just take it a day at a time?”

Violet nodded, taking the out that was offered to her.

“Want to get a panini or something?” She nodded again, a smile touching her features which Red caught immediately. “What?”

“Just Mikel, trying to get food here. He asked for a black coffee and a chicken sandwich.”

Red burst into laughter. “Oh my god. I can totally see that.”

It felt good to laugh with her, a break in the pressure that had been building in Violet’s chest since they’d seen the exit.

“Yeah,” she finished, hating how fond she sounded. Red gave her a knowing smile.

“You’ll be all right, babe. Come on, chicken sandwiches for two.”

 

THE SUN WAS setting by the time Red parked the van back in the shop’s driveway, hopped into her own little red car, and bade her goodnight. Violet was surprised to find she was sad to see her go. Red was an easy companion and only two years Violet’s senior. For a few hours, it had been easy to fall into being with her. Red reminded her how long it had been since she’d had an actual friend.

The house was quiet when she pushed open the front door, and she marveled for a second at the fact it was unlocked. Something in her brain sat up again and pointed a finger at her freedom in that moment, with Mikel nowhere in sight and only the quiet forest outside. She squashed it because it was just an illusion, for now.

It was a relief to set his credit card on the kitchen counter. Red had insisted she use it for her lunch, and honestly, Violet’s brain hadn’t realized she didn’t have her own until she’d already ordered and was staring at the cashier, lost. It was different somehow when he was buying her the clothes. She’d felt vindicated, like he owed her then in a way she wasn’t as sure of now.

A quick check of the bedroom and his office came up empty. Ignoring the little bit of foreboding that came with his absence, she made her way out into the cooler air of the shop. It was silent save for a soft, rhythmic hiss and click at the far end of the space. Quietly, she moved through his pieces, trying to place the noise.

She couldn’t.

Neat stacks of wood lined the walls and formed tidy aisles where she walked. Violet realized the space was so much bigger than she’d imagined—a woodworker’s paradise. The sound grew louder, and she thought she heard a grunt or a breath. She peered around a high shelving unit, telling herself it was ridiculous to be so on edge, and he was there.

Of course, her brain said. It was impossible Mikel looked the way he did and didn’t use a gym. Another hiss sounded when he pulled the bar down, weights behind it rising while the muscles in the back of his arms strained. He was sweat shined and shirtless, lying on the bench pumping the bar again and again, weights clicking every time he let the pressure go.

The nice offers Red said he’d gotten made a lot of sense. He looked cut from stone, his strong jaw set and focused, every line of his abs pulled tight while his arms pumped and pumped. Something in her stomach jumped when she realized she could see the gold in his eyes, the wolf, or what was left of it.

Mating. Her mind roamed over the word again while she watched him. Breeding, and Red’s insistence that she was special, chosen by him.

The longer she stood there, the more her ears focused, until she could hear the roughness of his breath. Sense memory took her back, always back to the woods, to his hands on her hips and his mouth on her skin. His arms pumped again, and Violet imagined being close enough to touch, imagined having them wrapped around her, feeling his breath hot on her skin, not just hearing it. She wanted him. The realization hit hard and fast, clearer somehow after a day of relative normalcy. She was hot between the legs, aching low in her belly, and still devouring him with her eyes, her gaze caught on the hard V of muscle that disappeared into the waist of his sweatpants.

“Hiding?” His voice, low, rough, and breathy, broke the quiet, followed by a final click of the weights hitting the platform.

Violet’s heart jumped. Caught.

“No.” She stepped out from behind the shelf, chin up and cheeks hot. He appraised her with a fondness that did nothing to help the heat in her gut and sat up in one lithe move.

“Come here.”

The words were so low Violet wasn’t sure she’d heard them right, but the expectancy in his look told her she had. She crossed the space slowly, struggling to find a place to put her eyes. Not looking at his body meant looking at his face. She studied the space around them instead, the neat circle of machines and the mirror-lined walls.

He stood when she got close, then all at once, he was in her space, sending her heart racing. “Didn’t get to tell you you look beautiful this morning.” One finger stroked her cheek, and Violet understood that he’d noticed her makeup. “Look just as good without,” he added, and her breath caught somewhere in her chest. “You liked that?” He gestured at the bench where he’d been working out.

“No—”

He took her by the shoulders and turned her. Then, her back was to his front and his lips were close to her ear, and she was too breathless to protest.

“Smells like you did. Look.”

He dwarfed her in the mirror, left her looking tiny against him. Violet studied the bulk of his shoulders, watched one of his hands come up to rest on her hip.

“Look at you blush.” It was a demand, gruff in her ear, and Violet watched her cheeks turn pink at the words, at the brush of his fingers over the side of her neck when he pulled her hair back and pressed his mouth there.

Her eyes looked darker, half lidded. She’d always been self-conscious of the color, one green and one brown, like her mother, but it was indistinguishable now. A hand closed over her breast. Something snapped inside her, and she ground her hips back into him.

Mikel’s lips skimmed her ear, her cheek, and it was pure instinct to turn her head and find his mouth. He pulled her around and close, tight against him while his tongue ran hot against the seam of her lips and pushed inside. The press of his fingers into her hip brought her ass flush against him, against the forming bulge in his sweats, and her voice caught in her throat when he rubbed against her, a long, slow demonstrative stroke that almost sent her to her knees.

The breath of a laugh kissed her ear, and his fingers made quick work of the fastenings on her jeans then pushed downward without preamble, into her panties, cool against the wet heat of her. He rubbed her, and her legs threatened to give out. Mikel was quick to take her against the wall. Violet hissed out a breath at the cold of the mirror at her back when he hit his knees and snatched her jeans and panties down her legs.

“Watch,” he demanded, tossing the clothes aside and inclining his head to the mirror beside where he’d put her in the corner, and Violet did.

Strong hands came up the back of her legs, and she had a moment to think, to wonder if this was a good idea, then his tongue touched the soft skin inside her thigh, followed by his lips and teeth, and she was captivated by the sight of his dark head in the mirror, sinking between her thighs.

Something raw and high and loud escaped her when he settled his mouth on her. Then she was gone, lost to the cold press of the mirror on her bare backside and the heat of his mouth, the heat inside, every ragged breath that drew her closer and closer to coming. She twisted her slim fingers in his soft, dark hair and her body drew tight, lights danced behind her eyes. Then, he stopped.

Her sound of protest became surprise. Mikel was on his feet in a flash, her shirt was up over her head, bra pulled down so her breasts dropped free, and he reached between them to push down his sweats as his cock sprung up.

“Watch,” Mikel said.

He kissed the soft skin under her ear and nosed her head around, holding it there while he laid hot open-mouthed kisses down her neck. In the mirror, Violet’s eyes were caught on his cock, on the way it rubbed slick against her thigh. Anticipation curled tightly inside her.

He reached between them, and she tensed. He was big, and for a moment, that pulled her back into her head. His feet knocked hers apart.

“You’re all right,” he promised.

Then, he was rubbing against her, hand guiding the length over her slick flesh, and everything in her stomach was hot and cold and hungry. It was perverse, but despite her racing heart, the sliver of trepidation that had her trying to close her legs, Violet couldn’t look away.

He nipped at her neck and pushed his cock down; the head kissed her opening and then he pushed inside. She couldn’t keep her eyes open to watch him sink into her, too consumed with stretch and pressure and the heat of him in there, the long low sound of his voice that spilled against her ear.

Strong hands turned soft; his kisses on her jaw were gentle and slow while he moved in her, testing. The pads of her fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him close and ready to push him away, until he drew backward and pushed wetly in again. Her body bloomed around him and took. His grunt of satisfaction when their hips were flush sparked a direct reaction in her. His green eyes were dark, laden with desire when he looked at her, and Violet just breathed, big racking breaths that moved her against him and sent little trills of pleasure into her blood.

Mikel hummed his approval, caught her around the thighs, and lifted her up around his hips. Violet’s legs went around him on instinct, and she’d cringe later at the sound that left her, high and pitchy and exultant at the new angle, at how deep it put him. At how he just held her there for a long moment to kiss the soft spot under her ear and let her feel the hot, heavy throb of his cock inside her.

“Violet,” Mikel gasped.

It sounded like a prayer. Some far-off part of her mind thought to be concerned with mating and birth control, but then he moved in her, one long slick slide out then back in, and she was nothing more than an animal. All that mattered was sating the carnal need inside. He moved again, and her hands that had been carefully holding his shoulders slid up around his neck, into his hair. When she pulled him forward to kiss, he came easily.

His hips set a rhythm, long and slow and deep, that left her dizzy. It was easy to feel small against him, safe and coveted and a dozen other dirty, wondrous things. He held her easily against the mirror with one hand and slid the other between them to touch her. The pressure of his fingers above where his cock worked in and out left her clenching, tightening. Violet recognized orgasm, she’d had plenty from slim fingers and smooth tongues, but this was more—deeper and hotter. It felt uncontrollable even as it built, like it came from a place so deep inside, it might rip her apart with its emergence.

She tried to squirm in his grip, but there was no moving, only a mounting pace, the wet slap of his skin on hers and the roughness of his breath and her voice in the quiet of the room. His fingers nudged her clit just as he sunk inside, and in one breath, the pressure crested and snapped. Pleasure broke over her like a tsunami. Violet clung to him, head back against the mirror and eyes closed while she keened. His cock stayed inside, bumping her, caressing her, stimulating her even while she was coming, and sending pleasure to every little part of her while he huffed and grunted his restraint in her ear.

With it done, she was boneless, bathed in afterglow, yet something dark stirred in her stomach, aware of the thick throb of him inside, the tight set of his jaw. His need kept the fire burning.

Dread was dawning in her at the realization that she had no real idea how to touch him, no idea of the consequences if he finished inside her, if they had to worry about that since she wasn’t a descendant.

Mikel stepped back and took her easily with him, going to his knees then laying her down on the cool mats below. A whimper escaped when he slid out of her, and he looked so pleased with himself at her reaction that she swatted him in his big chest. Undeterred, he settled over her, then his cock was nudging her again, and she shivered.

“Open your legs, baby.” It was a soft request, and Violet balked at the choice, her mind sticking on birth control and consequences.

He nudged her again, and her thighs parted without thought. He hummed his approval and sunk back inside her.

It was different under him. She was consumed, covered, her skin on his skin. He held his weight, yet she still felt it, felt how she fit and the changed angle his cock rubbed her at. It felt thicker now, heavy and full. A bead of sweat dripped from his temple, and she tried to ignore that her sensitized body was already winding tight again for him. Like he knew, Mikel went down against her, kissed her shoulder, and moved faster. Violet trembled and keened, hands exploring the thick muscle of his back, the firm swell of his ass, and encouraging him down, into her, again and again.

His breathing became ragged, his voice catching, and his breath against her ear. His rhythm stuttered.

“Come on, Violet,” he demanded and rolled his hips in a certain way.

Like clockwork, she came, hot and hard and fast, flying apart around him. Mikel grunted over her, shuddered, and she was just barely coming down when he was out of her and huffing out a growl while he took himself in hand and splashed hotly on her hip. Finished, he sagged beside her on the mat.

When Violet came back to herself sometime later, she was surprised. Her one-night stands with girls from the bar were quick things with a defined start and end—she’d be gone by now. Yet her head had migrated onto his shoulder, his body molded to hers, keeping her warm in the cool of the room, as his fingertips grazed her shoulder and back while they just existed together in the after.

“Grilling steaks for dinner,” Mikel finally said and reached over her for his discarded shirt, which he used to wipe her hip and the mat.

When he moved to sit up, Violet was overcome with how vulnerable she felt, her body still addled with endorphins and slow to process what had happened.

“Shower first,” he added when she didn’t move, scooped up both of their clothes, and lifted her into his arms like she was no heavier than paper.

“I can walk,” she groused.

It was easier to fall back to her familiar snarking with him than dissect the complicated feelings starting to leak back into her and how much better she felt in his embrace.

“You can do something else real good too,” he murmured against her ear, and she blushed, stifled a laugh, and deigned to let him carry her back through to the house and into the bathroom.