Page 65 of Blue Moon

“I’ll find something else.”

“Don’t you dare leave this bed again. I mean, at least your cock won’t get wrinkles.”

I looked at him and he looked at me, and then we both dissolved into laughter. That was the last thing I’d ever expected to do—laugh in bed with a man. But this was Ryder, and he made everything in my world a little brighter.

I rolled up pretend sleeves. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Ryder pulled off his shirt, and I realised I hadn’t seen his chest for a while. In San Gallicano, we’d spent plenty of time on the beach, but in Vegas, he’d been getting dressed while I was in the bathroom. I’d missed it. The taut pecs, the rippling abs, the smattering of dark blond hair that trailed down his stomach and disappeared under his waistband. He inched his shorts over his hips, and holy crap, that butt… Then his cock sprang free, and I almost ran for the hills. The thing was freaking enormous. I’d once done a photoshoot at the Washington Monument, and honestly, if they ever decided to put a replica here in Vegas, Ryder’s cock would be perfect for the job.

“I think I need bigger hands,” I murmured.

“We’ll make it work.” He globbed fifty bucks’ worth of face cream onto the monument and worked it around. “We’ll make everything work. You and me, we were meant to be.”

“Just don’t start sending me love notes on takeout receipts, okay?”

He tangled his other hand in my hair and pulled me in for a searing kiss. Most of the time, he treated me like a china doll, but sometimes, he couldn’t quite hold back the caveman. And I liked that. With him, I liked that because I knew if I told him to stop, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Our emotions were connected by an invisible thread. If I hurt, he hurt. If I was happy, so was Ryder.

“If I write you a love note, you’ll know exactly who it’s from,” he growled, and his words sent shivers through me. Good shivers.

Then he wrapped my hand around his shaft. It was so hard, and warm, and his skin felt almost silky under Chateau Miel’s premier product.

“This is the most sensitive part.” He ran my thumb over the tip. “And this…” Ryder pushed back the skin at the end and showed me a delicate piece of skin that connected the tip to the shaft. “This is the frenulum. Touch it and I’m putty in your hands.”

“You’re already putty in my hands, baby.”

But I did touch it, and my reward was a long, low groan that made me clench my thighs together.

“Now what do I do?”

“Anything you want. You can’t get it wrong.”

I shifted for a better angle, straddling his thighs, my panties damp and getting wetter. Working out what he liked was pretty easy. I watched the way his pupils dilated, saw his breathing quicken when I got things right. He cursed too. Fuck yeah, that’s it, sweetheart. He told me he loved me. And finally, he choked out, “I’m gonna come,” and white goo shot all over his stomach.

Well, that was an experience, and one I was strangely proud of. Another fear: defeated. I dipped a finger in the goo and trailed it across his stomach. Signed my name.

He chuckled when he saw it. “‘Love, Luna’?”

“That’s one autograph you can’t sell on eBay.”

“Every time I think I couldn’t possibly love you more, I realise I’m wrong.”

And I realised that someday, I might achieve my dream of ditching the name I hated so much. Because I wanted to become Luna Maara Metcalfe, and that moment couldn’t come soon enough.

18

RYDER

In high school, Ryder had faced off against linebackers, in the Navy, he’d survived Hell Week, and at Blackwood, he’d undertaken missions on six continents, but none of those challenges had been as tough as keeping his hands off Luna Maara that afternoon. He wanted to touch her, needed to touch her, but instead, he had to walk three feet behind and avoid eye contact. If their gazes connected, his thin thread of self-control would snap.

This morning had changed her, he knew that much. Changed both of them. She’d spent her whole life thinking sex was a nightmare to be avoided at all costs, and now her mind had opened to the possibilities. To the reality that between people who cared deeply for each other, it was a beautiful thing.

He’d got her off again before they left for the Palace—in the shower, her arms wrapped around his neck while his fingers slid over her clit. Then he’d carefully dried every inch of her, and she’d lain on the bed while he massaged rose-scented moisturiser into her skin and made a mental note to pick up lube because fifty bucks a hand job wasn’t financially viable in the long term. Blackwood paid well, but not that well.

Luna had worn a dress today, a short pink skater dress teamed with heels so high they brought her eyes level with his chin. He wanted her to keep them on while?—

Time and a place, asshole.

Ryder nodded a greeting to the guard as they walked through the stage door. There had been no more incidents, and Monroe was checking the gifts personally from now on. He’d removed a dildo from the offerings today, but that wasn’t from Mark A. No, a sicko named “Tyler the Great” had sent that one, along with a selection of dick pics and a note suggesting where she might stick it. Ryder knew where he wanted to stick it.

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