The Ugly Luna

CHAPTER 4

ELLIE

Adrian is standing at the window, one hand braced against the frame, looking out over the valley. He turns when he hears me.

And goes completely still.

The firelight catches everything—my hair, the line of my face. I watch him take it in.

"You were hiding," he says finally. His voice comes out low, rougher than usual.

"Yes." No point in softening it.

He crosses the room slowly. He stops close, and I have to tip my chin up to hold his gaze. I hadn't realized how much taller he was until now. He towers over me, his body blocking out everything else.

His hand comes up, and his knuckles brush along my jaw. Barely contact. Just the graze of skin against skin.

I feel it in my spine.

"You're even more beautiful, if that's even possible," he says quietly.

"Thank you," I whisper.

His hand lingers against my jaw before slowly moving lower, his fingers resting against my neck. My breath catches.

Among all the worries I had in the bathroom, one pushes forward. What if he's rough and it hurts?

I look up at Adrian. He's watching me carefully, his eyes dark with something I can't quite name. He parts his lips like he's about to speak, but the words don't come.

His hand tightens around my throat—not with pressure. With something else entirely.

I don't think. I stop calculating. I let the bond lead and push up onto my toes and press my lips against his.

Something shifts.

His hand tightens around my throat, just for a moment—then slides up into my hair, fingers curling at the root. He kisses me back, and every thought I've ever had dissolves completely.

I wasn't ready for this. I don't know how I thought I could be. The bond surges through me like a current, dizzy and overwhelming all at once. My hands grip his shirt just to have something to hold onto. Like if I let go, the floor might not be there anymore.

Nothing in that bathroom could have prepared me for this.

His mouth is demanding. I feel a low sound that moves through his chest more than I hear it.

His hands move to my waist, and he walks me backward until the backs of my knees hit the bed. His fingers find the laces at the back of my gown and pull.

He's going to see me. All of me. The real me that has never been seen by anyone.

The silver tulle loosens and falls.

He goes still.

I make myself hold his gaze. His eyes move over me slowly, and what I find there isn't disappointment or pity or anything I feared in that bathroom. Just want, pooling darker in his eyes with every second.

The fear doesn't disappear entirely. But it quiets.

He shrugs out of his shirt. I've seen men without shirts before—pack life doesn't allow for much modesty, but I wasn't prepared for this. The breadth of him, scars faint and silver across his ribs, tattoos climbing his chest and down his arms. My mouth goes dry.

His hands find me again immediately. Like the distance was too much even for a second.

He lays me back onto the bed. His mouth finds my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. I suck in a sharp breath.

His mouth travels down my body, stopping once it reaches my breast. My n*****s are perked, and just at the sight of his eyes on them, they begin to ache.

His mouth closes over one, and I arch off the bed. His tongue rolls around my n****e before he pulls it between his teeth. His fingers find the other, pinching and rolling. I squirm beneath him, my thighs pressing together as something wet pools between my legs.

His hands roam my waist, moving up and down my ribs, burning my skin with every touch.

"Adrian," I moan. I feel a rumble against my breast from hearing his name leave my lips. He looks up at me. Just for a second. Something burns in his eyes.

His mouth moves lower, kissing all the way until it stops at the inside of my thigh.

"Mine," he growls against my skin.

His mouth finds my core, and I stop breathing. My hand flies to his hair on instinct, gripping hard. His tongue moves slowly, one long stroke, and my hips jerk off the bed.

He pins them down with both hands, firm and unyielding, and does it again. And again. His tongue circles my c**t, and my fingers tighten in his hair. He sucks it into his mouth, and I cry out, my whole body pulling taut.

The pressure builds and builds, coiling so tight I can feel myself right on the edge of it.

"Adrian, I—"

He suddenly pulls away and stands at the edge of the bed. I make a sound that is embarrassingly close to a whimper.

He takes off the rest of his clothes, and what I see before me causes my breath to catch hard. His d**k wasn't the first I saw, but definitely the biggest.

He catches me staring, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a slow, knowing smirk. Maybe I should've told him we needed to take things slow. Because judging by his size, I'm fairly certain he's about to split me in half.

I'm so lost in my own thoughts that I don't notice when he settles between my thighs. He rubs his tip at my entrance, causing my eyes to roll.

"If at any point it's too much, let me know." His voice is low, rough.

I nod.

He pushes in slowly.

The stretch is immediate and overwhelming. My fingers dig into his shoulders, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching my face. "We can stop."

I draw in a slow, shaky breath.

"I'm fine," I whisper. "Keep going."

For a heartbeat, he simply looks at me, as if making sure I mean it.

Then he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. He continues inch by inch, until he's fully seated, and I feel so impossibly full my vision blurs.

He moves. Slow. Barely pulling back before pushing forward again, giving me time to feel every inch of it. The burn begins to ease with each careful stroke, my body slowly learning the shape of him.

I drag in another shaky breath.

He does it again. And again. Each stroke a little deeper, a little easier than the last.

The pain doesn't disappear entirely. But underneath it, something else is building.

"Adrian." His name comes out as a plea.

His hands grip my hips hard, and his pace changes. I gasp as I feel him deeper—impossibly, overwhelmingly deeper.

My fingers scramble for purchase against his back, my nails digging in as my whole body moves with his. The headboard hits the wall.

Thrust. Bang. Thrust. Bang.

The pleasure builds fast and fierce, coiling tight in my core, every stroke sending sparks shooting up my spine.

"Ellie," he groans, his hand moving between us. His fingers find my c**t, swollen and sensitive, and he works it in tight circles without breaking his pace.

"Lord, have mercy!" The words tear out of me, my eyes rolling back, stars bursting behind my eyelids.

I think I hear Adrian chuckle low against my neck, but I can't dwell on it.

My walls clench around him, and his pace falters. His breath comes harder against my skin, his grip on my hips tightening almost painfully, his groans growing rougher with every stroke.

“Adrian,” I moan, my whole body convulsing, pleasure crashing through me so hard my back arches clean off the bed. A cry rips from my throat as I come apart around him.

He looks down at me, his eyes have bled almost fully black. He drops his head to the curve of my neck and shoulder. I feel his breath first, then his lips.

A guttural groan tears from him. His whole body shudders as he drives home one last time, and then his teeth sink in.

The marking flares through me like a live wire, pain and pleasure tangled so completely I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

The bond snaps into place.