Moan for Me
1448 Words
Caleb stopped instantly—turning slowly, his head tilting, eyes darkening as if he already knew why she called him back.
Autumn swallowed hard.
“Let’s do it. For grandma,” she whispered.
Her heartbeat pounded through her chest. “I just… need a second.”
Caleb’s lips curved—slow, wicked, unbearably confident.
“Take all the seconds you need, sweetheart,” he said, stepping toward her with a predatory grace. “Just tell me when you’re ready… and I’ll make sure Grandma hears everything.”
Caleb took another step closer, and Autumn swore the room shrank.
“Alright,” she whispered, cheeks flaming. “L-let’s… just get it over with.”
His brows lifted, amused. “Get it over with? It's an art, sweetheart, and we don’t get over with it until our souls are satisfied.”
She nearly combusted. “Caleb!”
He chuckled, low and deep. “Okay, okay. Show me what you’ve got.”
Autumn closed her eyes, inhaled, and—
“…M-mmh?”
It sounded like she stepped on a Lego.
Caleb blinked. “Was that… a moan or did you stub your toe or something?”
“Shut up,” she hissed, covering her burning face.
“Oh no,” he murmured, gently tugging her wrists away from her cheeks. “You don’t get to hide from me now.”
His voice dipped, dark and velvet-smooth, and almost like a command that made him more appealing. “Try again.”
She cleared her throat, tried harder.
This time she managed a tiny breathy— “Ah…”
It was pathetic. Even I can tell that. A moan for ants.
Caleb stared at her like she had personally offended his wolf.
“Autumn.” He stepped closer. “You are in this room, all alone, with me and you sound like you’re reacting to lukewarm soup.”
Autumn stomped her foot. “Well excuse me for not being a moaning professional!”
A soft laugh escaped him before he leaned in, his breath brushing her ear.
“Let me help,” he whispered.
Her knees buckled.
He cupped her jaw lightly, his thumb stroking her cheek as he tilted her face up to his. His voice dropped to a sinful murmur.
“Start with breathing. Slow… soft… like you’re already feeling something.”
Her lungs forgot how to function.
She inhaled—
Exhaled—
And a soft, involuntary sound slipped out… “mmh…”
Caleb’s eyes flared.
“That’s it,” he murmured, stepping closer until his chest brushed hers, his minty breath all over on her face. “Again.”
She tried— “Mm—”
But this time his fingers grazed the side of her neck.
Autumn’s breath hitched—Her lips parted—
And what escaped was definitely not acting.
A trembling, breathy:
“…ah—Caleb…”
His pupils blew wide.
His jaw clenched.
Every muscle in him went taut.
“Little dove,” he rasped, voice gutted. “That one was real.”
Autumn froze.
Oh.
Oh no.
Oh goddess help me.
Her whole face burned. “I—I didn’t mean—!”
A soft noise outside the door.
Grandma, shuffling closer.
Caleb leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Don’t panic now,” he whispered. “Because if she hears just one more sound like that…”His hand rested on her lower back, warm and steady. “…she might assume we’re already busy.”
Her heart stuttered.
Her body throbbed.
“Caleb…” she breathed helplessly.
He smirked, wicked and warm.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Give Grandma her show.”
The playful, predatory tease was suddenly gone, replaced by a raw, single-minded hunger. The scent of Autumn's arousal filled the room. Maximus came forward. His hands, which had been guiding and steadying, became instruments of pure claiming.
One arm curled around her waist, locking her against the solid, unyielding wall of his body, earning a gasp from Autumn while the other hand slid from her jaw, down the column of her throat, over the frantic pulse at its base, and lower still.
His palm scorched a path down her side, tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, with an agonizing slowness that made her whimper.
“Caleb,” she breathed, the name a plea and a confession. I never want him to stop. God, I never want this to end.
His fingers dipped lower, cupping the curve of her ass, pulling her flush against the hard ridge of his erection.
I-is this his…. Oh god! He is super hard. Are we gonna end up having s*x tonight?
A sharp, broken cry escaped her. This was no performance.
Before her mind could process further, in one fluid, powerful motion, he bent and scooped her into his arms.
She gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders, clinging to the bunched, tense muscle there. He settled her down on the edge of the bed, by the comforter so she was perched before him. He loomed over her, caging her in, his knees pressing against the inside of her thighs, forcing them apart to make space for him.
“You’re so perfect like this,” he rasped, his dark eyes showing the same golden flakes in them, devouring the sight of her: flushed, pliant, and utterly at his mercy. “All messy and wanting for me.”
He leaned over her, one hand braced on the mattress by her hip, the other hand finally began a slow, torturous ascent, sliding up her calf, over her knee, along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, pushing the fabric of her shorts aside. Her breath came in ragged pants, her hips giving an involuntary, tiny jerk, seeking a pressure that wasn't there.
His eyes, black with need, held hers captive. “Look at me, Autumn. I want to see you fall apart.”
His voice… it changed again. And his eyes… his irises… I swear he had grey eyes. Why am I seeing gold in them? This is insane!
His fingers reached the damp, heated apex of her thighs. He didn’t push the fabric aside, instead, he laid his whole palm over her, earning another shocked, guttural moan from her throat.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice gravel. He began to move his hand, a slow, circular, grinding pressure that had her back arching off the bed. The friction was exquisite, maddening. It was everything and not nearly enough.
“Please,” she sobbed, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Please what, little dove?” he asked, though he knew. He applied more pressure, his middle finger finding the perfect, swollen spot beneath the soaked fabric and pressing down.
Her vision whited out. A raw, screaming cry shattered the quiet of the room. “Caleb!”
Oh god! I haven't touched myself in a while. Yeah, that's why it feels way better… than my toys, than Julian… than everything I have tried so far.
His control snapped. “f**k damn it!”
Max growled in his mind, ‘mark her. Now.’
His wolf instincts sharpened, desperate to claim her.
‘No… she doesn't even know what a mark means.’ Caleb whispered to himself, struggling to regain composure.
‘She clearly wants us. Can't you see? Are you blind?’ Max pushed, frustration and possessiveness lacing his words.
‘It’s probably just a heat of the moment for her.’ Caleb clenched his teeth. ‘Stay back, Max.’
With whatever willpower he had, he pushed Max away. He looked down at her—at the way her chest rose and fell, at her flushed cheeks, at her trembling hands. She was breathtaking. And infuriating. His wolf wanted to claim her, but his mind screamed caution.
With painstaking slowness, he pulled back, removing his hands from where she wanted him most. He smoothed the blanket over her, brushing her hair lightly away from her face.
“Grandma is gone, Autumn,” he said, his voice steady, almost unnervingly calm. “We should sleep now.”
He straightened up, turning away from her as if he could simply switch off the inferno he had just stoked into a blazing wildfire.
Autumn lay there, trembling, throbbing, and utterly, completely abandoned on the precipice of her climax. The cold shock of his withdrawal was a physical pain. Why did he stop? Am I not attracted enough?
She couldn’t take it. Her chest heaving, frustration and longing coiling inside her like fire, she forced herself to sit up. “So… that’s it? You’re just going to leave me like this?”
- Writer
