Moral Compass

Chapter Thirty-Six

You'll be getting lucky later.

Fallon, of her own accord—with no prompting from Seth at all—had kissed him. He didn't have to ask. He didn't have to beg. He didn't so much as have to hint at it. She'd simply grabbed him and planted one on him. And now his cock was hard as stone. His mind was foggy with her.

Fuck. Where does this leave me?

Fallon's taste was staining his lips. He couldn't think of anything else. Nothing but her.

Once more, Fallon had left him confused at every angle.

After her proposition, he knew she didn't want anything permanent. Even if she wanted him for herself and hated the thought of him with someone else. She wanted sex—but no strings attached.

Because her past still haunts her.

She'd alluded to it once or twice but still wouldn't let him know any of it. What could be so terrible that she wouldn't even give him a chance because of it?

No strings attached. Fallon wanted no commitment.

Not happening.

Damn the day. He'd never thought it would happen and yet here he was, prepared to chain himself to one woman for the rest of his life. And you know what? It didn't bother him. There was no dread. No fear. No hesitation. He was ready for it.

The question now was whether Fallon was too.

He wanted nothing more than to bury his cock in her cunt. To have her squirming, purring, tightening around him as he wreaked orgasm after orgasm from her body. But that was what she was expecting. Fallon thought she had him pinned. She thought she knew his type. Old Seth would jump at the chance to fuck her. New Seth—the Seth that wanted Fallon forever—couldn't behave that way. He had to prove this was more than sex. Which meant, Gods be damned, Seth wasn't getting lucky later.

Now to break the news to Fallon and not die of sadness in the process.

Whilst her head was stuck in the past—stuck in whatever relationship disaster she still clung to—then the last thing they'd be doing was sex. Not until he could worm a promise out of her of sorts.

He had a day to figure out how.

But first of all—shower.

He locked himself away in his usual bedroom where Fallon and the werewolves wouldn't find him. Bathroom locked—just in case someone did find him—he trapped himself in with the steam and undressed.

Thanks a lot Fallon.

This was all her fault. It was her fault for changing his perspective on everything. Her fault for making him want things he'd never wanted. Her fault he'd started making an effort to behave.

She was the reason his cock was fully erect right now, begging for an Amazon's touch.

Fuck, it's your fault I'm wanking into my hand.

He stood alone in the shower, pellets of water hitting his back as he ran a hand over his cock, once, twice, pumping into his palm.

Her mouth was supposed to be wrapped around this. Her hands were supposed to be all over him. His hand should've been buried in her hair.

Gods, he needed the Amazon underneath him and he needed it fucking soon.

As water bathed his cock, as his hand slid up and down his length, he pictured what her lips would feel like wrapped around his tip again. How it'd feel to fill her. To have her body wrapped around his as he stuffed her full with his cock. How she'd lose her breath and focus for once in her damned life, completely overwhelmed by him. In his mind's eye, he saw his seed dripping from her pretty pussy. Saw her desperate and begging to be touched by him.