Blood on the Moon

Rose

“Fuck!” I squeal. “We’re tied again!”

Asher lets out a booming laugh as he puts away Connect 4 and says, “What can I say? When you think I’m down and out, I make a comeback!”

“We need a tie-break game, or else I won’t sleep again!”

“You’re so competitive,” he replies, pursing his lips as he grabs the chessboard. “Good thing I’m just as bad.”

I gasp. “Not the game you cheated at!”

“Dear Goddess, for the last time, I didn’t cheat! How can someone even cheat at chess?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But still!”

“Alright, alright, well, here is your rematch! I say we put a wager on it, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, arching my brow. “What wager?”

It’s been a few weeks since we last saw each other stargazing. We’ve been able to communicate via cell phone, which he keeps hidden from Gen, so he can’t always access it. She’s never allowed him to have one; one of the group members trying to overthrow her had to get one for him so he could be in contact with them consistently.

I’ve been planning our romantic night together for a while, though. It’s my turn, and I’ve been looking forward to it ever since we set the date four days ago. Asher found out that Gen would be busy for the night at a meeting with some of her pack's official allies, which is concerning that she’s also trying to garner support, but good for us in that it gives us time alone.

So, I decided we’d have a game night. It’s one of the first dates we had together, and it turns out we’re both extremely competitive, so we keep track of our wins and losses in a notebook. Right now, we’re tied at eighteen wins each.

“I say, if you win, I eat your pussy. And, if I win, I eat your pussy.”

I stop breathing altogether, completely caught off guard as my eyes widen at the simplicity of his statement. The evenness of his tone. The casualness of it all.

“What?” I squeak.

“You heard me.”

I lick my lips, my legs shaking with my breath as I meet his eyes. They’re staring back at me with such intensity I can’t speak.

He sweeps the game off the table and says, “Well, looks like I lost.”

I lick my lips, trying to bring back any sense of resolve. “W-Will that count on my win record?”

“I’ll allow it,” he replies, standing and walking toward me, kneeling before me. “Do you want it?”

“Yes.” I blurt, my heart skipping a beat as his hands rest on my thighs, the tingling sensation in my core only growing wilder with each millimeter he moves up my skin.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing my knee as he wraps his hands around my hips. “Shall we take this to the bedroom? Would you be more comfortable there?”

I nod, my mouth dry and lips shaking with anticipation. He smirks, lifting me effortlessly, and my legs wrap around his waist reflexively. He holds me up like I weigh nothing, never breaking eye contact as he takes me to the bedroom.

He sets me on the bed gently, crawling on top of me and kissing my neck hungrily.

I smile, biting my lip as he kisses my stomach, raising my shirt only slightly to reveal the button of my shorts, which he quickly undoes, clearly excited.

My eyes flutter as he pulls my shorts and panties down my legs deliciously slow, biding his time and letting his nails drag lightly against my now exposed thighs. He tosses the clothing to the side.

My legs spread as his hands grip my thighs, the kisses he trails up my leg wet and desperate as he nears my inner thigh, growling when he hovers above my dripping pussy.

He licks up my slit, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as my nails dig into his hair.

“You taste incredible,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling my needy skin.

His tongue circles around my throbbing clit, my body begging for more as my thighs tighten around his head. He glides his hands up my stomach and to my breasts, running his thumbs back and forth across my nipples over my bra. He flicks his tongue back and forth against my bud the way I did to the tip of his cock weeks ago.

I whine frantically, squirming under him as he increases his pace.

“Ash!” I cry, pleasure building in my stomach. “Asher, please!”

He toys with my entrance with the tip of his finger, zig-zagging his tongue up and down my slit, sucking on my pussy lips, nipping them gently.

I open my eyes, my hand gripping his hair so tightly I fear I may be causing him some pain, but I don’t think he minds. But watching how diligently he is eating me out almost sends me over the edge, but I keep it together, wanting to prolong this pleasure for as long as I can.

“I can’t describe how badly I want to make love to you,” he growls into my head, slipping his finger into my pussy. I hiss at the pressure, my thighs clenching as he pumps deep inside me.

“Make love?” I ask, struggling to catch my breath as I prop myself on my elbows to see him better. I love watching his face; his expressions are focused, hungry, and caring.

He nods, kissing my pussy sweetly a few times before meeting my eyes and confessing.

“I love you, Rose.”

“You love me?”

He adds another finger into my pussy and curls them, leaning forward to whisper in my ear. “I love you so much, Rose. You’re my mate and my everything, my heart, mind, body, and soul, belongs to you. All I think about is you. All I feel is you. All my body breathes for is you. My soul is tethered to yours.”

“Oh, Asher,” I moan as he pumps a little harder, my pleasure coming both from his words and movements. “Don’t stop!”

“Never,” he replies devoutly, pressing a quick kiss on my cheek before returning his head to between my legs.

“May I make love to you, Rose?” He asks, his eyes full of hope, lust, and what I can now identify as love.

I smile, wishing I could say yes, but…

I can’t.

My breath shakes, his tongue swirling around my clit as he awaits my answer.

“I-I don’t know if I’m ready yet,” I reply, trying to come up with an explanation I can give him as to why. Not that I need one since any respectful man wouldn’t demand a reason from a woman as to why she doesn’t want to have sex with him, and Asher is as respectful and kind as they come. He won’t ask or pressure.

But I worry that it may make him feel insecure. I know him well enough to understand how his mind works and how the abuse he’s been through has shaped him. He’s been trained to believe he’s worthless, especially as a man and romantic partner. That won’t go away with a few “atta boys” from me. No amount of kisses or fucks will erase it, not immediately.

He’ll be in his head and won’t tell me he is in order to protect me from feeling bad. But I know he’ll ruminate all night if I don’t say something.

“I-I just have only had sex with one person, so it makes me a little nervous.”

It’s not entirely a lie. I have only had sex with one other person. However, I’m not nervous about sex at all. I crave having sex with Asher. I know I’ll kick myself for turning him down later, and my mind will flash daydreams of his cock inside me at all hours of the day. It’ll be all I can think about for a while, the horny mess that I am. I will be the first to admit that I am horrifically thirsty for this man.

Yet, I can’t.

Not yet.

Not when I’m not ready to admit the truth about myself. The truth of my fertility. And, if I confess that, I’ll have to accept the truth about my family. My past. A past I don’t even understand.

“That’s okay, my love,” he replies, not paying too much attention as he continues eating me out. “I’ve only had sex with one other person, too. So, I get it.”

“Ah!” I cry as he starts sucking on my clit, humming against it as his nails dig into my thighs. He’s becoming more desperate now. More ravenous.

“Oh, God!” I scream. “Please, don’t stop! K-Keep doing that!”

He follows my instruction, not changing a thing about the pace of his fingers inside me, the rhythm of his lips, or the pressure of his other hand on my leg.

“I-I’m close!” I pant, sweat forming on my hairline as my toes curl, tension rising in my stomach as my muscles tense. “Fuck, Asher!”

He keeps going; his eyes closed and long, heavy breaths escaping his nose as he concentrates, his fingers not even close to tiring.

I can feel my body rise with my high, and I’m about to spill over -

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

I jolt upright, and so does Asher, both of us glaring at the door, our eyes wide with panic.

“Nobody knows about this cabin, do they?” I ask him, keeping my voice hushed.

“My siblings,” he replies, sniffing the air. “But it’s not them.”

My breath quivers as I take a deep breath of the air, unable to differentiate any scents from the smell of sex lingering in the room. Mostly his musk, which blinds me because of the mate bond, I’m guessing. I can’t smell anything but him.

Which I don’t mind, but it is annoying right now.

So maybe it is his siblings, and he just can’t smell them right now? Hopefully? Or it could be Margaery?

But a sinking feeling in my stomach tells me it’s not.

But, if not them…

Who has found our cabin?