The Ugly Luna He Never Saw novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Morning Light

They sleep together properly, and at dawn she sees him turn toward the bed and say her name as if he cannot find her.

I woke at four in the morning with his hand on my hip and the whole of last night between my legs.

The lamp had burned out.

The only light was the thin blue grey of the window.

Niko was asleep on his back, one arm over his head, taking up most of the bed.

I had never watched a man sleep.

I lay on my side and looked at the shape of him, the broad chest, the dark beard, the heavy mouth gone soft.

I wanted that mouth.

I wanted all of him, and for once nobody was there to tell me I shouldn't.

I slid my hand down his stomach, across the line of dark hair below his navel, and under the waistband of his jeans, which he had never taken off.

He was hard.

He was so hard that when my fingers closed around him, he woke with a grunt, his hips pushing up into my fist.

"Tuuli."

"You said tomorrow," I said. "It's tomorrow."

His eyes opened.

He did not look at my face.

He looked at my hand moving under the denim, and something went dark and hungry in his expression.

"Take them off," I said.

He shoved his jeans down in one rough motion and kicked them away.

I'd felt how big he was.

I hadn't seen.

He was thick and heavy and flushed at the tip, and my mouth went dry.

"That's not going to fit," I said.

"It will." He rolled me onto my back, and his weight came down on me like a warm wall. "You're going to take every inch, and you're going to like it."

"Arrogant."

"Wet," he said, and slid two fingers through me to prove it.

I bucked.

"Niko, please."

"I love it when you say that."

He braced his arms either side of my head and notched the blunt head of his cock against me.

I could feel the whole bed shaking, or maybe that was me.

He pushed in.

It was a slow, stretching burn, a fullness I had no name for, and I gasped his name with every inch.

"Breathe," he said, shaking. "There. Breathe out. Let me in."

I did.

He sank all the way to the root, and we both made a sound, low and broken.

My body was clenched around him so tight I could feel him pulse.

He pressed his forehead against mine and said nothing for a moment, and his breath came in short hot bursts over my mouth.

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck. Tuuli. You feel like you were made for me."

"Move."

He moved.

He drew back and thrust in, long and deep, and the bed knocked once against the wall.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and my nails sank into his back.

"Harder."

He gave me harder.

Each stroke hit somewhere deep inside that lit my whole body, and I heard myself babbling, yes, there, more, God, Niko.

He was talking too, low, in my ear, steady as a pulse.

"That's your breath catching. I love that one. That's your pussy squeezing me, I can feel it when you get close. Don't hold your voice back. Let me hear you."

"I'm going to-"

"I know. I can hear it coming."

He reached between us and rubbed his thumb over my clit in tight fast circles, and I came with a scream, clenching around his cock so hard that he swore.

He didn't stop.

He fucked me through it, panting, until my body went loose, and then he stopped, buried deep, trembling with effort.

"Not yet," he said through his teeth. "Not yet. I want to see you ride me."

"See," I repeated, dazed.

"Feel you," he corrected, and flipped us over.

I ended up on top of him with my hair falling around us and the first light of morning coming through the window on my bare skin.

I should have hidden.

I put both hands flat on his chest and started to move instead.

He groaned and his eyes fell shut.

His big hands gripped my hips, then slid up to my breasts, then to my face, and cupped my jaw.

His thumb rested on the scar.

I didn't flinch.

"Like that," he said hoarsely. "Roll your hips. God. Look at you move."

I wasn't sure he was really looking.

I was too far gone to care.

I rode him slowly at first, then faster, chasing the tight hot spiral winding up my spine again.

His cock hit that deep spot on every stroke.

I could feel him swelling inside me, and I knew he was close.

"Tuuli."

"Come for me."

"Say it again."

"Come inside me, Niko."

His hands clamped hard on my hips, and he thrust up into me, once, twice, three times, with a long raw groan.

I felt him spill, hot and pulsing, deep in my body.

That sent me over the edge again.

I came with my hands braced on his chest, shaking, calling his name into the quiet of the room.

I collapsed on top of him.

His arms closed around me, and we lay there with our hearts pounding against each other.

"Mine," he whispered, so quietly I could pretend I hadn't heard.

Later I must have slept.

When I opened my eyes the room was full of yellow morning, and the bed beside me was empty.

I sat up, holding the sheet.

Niko stood at the window with his back to me, bare to the waist, looking out at the lake.

He turned around.

He looked straight at the bed.

Straight at me.

"Tuuli?" he said.

It wasn't a greeting.

It was the voice of a man who was not sure the bed held anyone.

I held very still, and I didn't answer.

His head tilted a little, listening.

Then I breathed in, and the blankness cleared off his face, and he smiled.

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