The Moon Knows How to Play

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Where are you taking me?" Elunar's voice sliced through the silence of the road as I drove us out of the city lights.

Her tone was sharp, suspicious. Always suspicious of me.

I wet my lips deliberately, dragging my tongue across them before smirking at her. "My lips are wet," I murmured. "Yours?"

Her brows knitted together. "Fuck you."

"Okay," I sneered, voice low, teasing, "fuck me, baby."

Her shoulders stiffened. She leaned back against the passenger seat, crossing her arms like armor. "I don't know if I'll survive the night without cutting your future short," she hissed.

I grinned, heat simmering low in my gut. "You're so hard to me," I teased. "And I'm getting hard too."

Her silence wasn't a retreat—it was calculated. She turned her face to the window, the reflection of her green eyes flashing against the glass. For a moment, she looked fragile. Vulnerable. Then her voice, softer, almost reluctant:

"I didn't thank you yet... for saving me."

I barked a short laugh. "It was your fault to begin with."

Her head snapped back to me, eyes wide. "What?! I'm trying to be nice!"

"You walked straight into trouble. That's on you." I tapped my chest with one hand, cocky smirk plastered on my face. "Be grateful someone like me showed up. Those four losers weren't worthy of touching you. If you're going to surrender yourself, at least let it be to someone like me—always available, always free.

"Bastard."

I shrugged lazily, my grin widening. "You'd be truly fucked if you keep showing up alone in bars wearing that kind of dress. It's practically asking to be—"

"Shut up." Her voice was ice. "What I wear is none of your business."

"You're stubborn," I muttered. Then smirked. "Stubborn... and making me hard again."

She groaned in disgust. "Yuck."

I glanced at her. "You're a prude, aren't you? You flinch every time I talk dirty. Are you really that scared of cock?" I tilted my head. "What do you use then? Fingers? A vibrator? A dildo? Or do you just sit pretty, pretending your thighs don't ache at night?"

Her lips pressed into a tight line. No answer.

I chuckled darkly. "So that's it. You're Mother Mary herself. The Virgin who never sins."

Her hand twitched on the seatbelt buckle. "Stop the car."

My smirk faltered. "You want to get out? We're in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town is miles away. And don't forget our deal—you said you'd spend the night with me."

"I said stop the car."

Her voice was steel. Something in it made me obey. I pulled over onto the dirt shoulder, the headlights cutting across endless fields.

I turned to her. "What the hell are you—"

She moved before I finished. Unclipping her seatbelt, she swung one leg across me, sliding onto my lap in the driver's seat. My pulse roared. Her weight pressed down against my already straining hardness.

My voice cracked between shock and hunger. "What are you doing?"

Her green eyes locked on mine, fire blazing. "Nobody calls me prude," she whispered, "and gets away with it."

Her fingers went straight for my belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease, pulling at the button, sliding the zipper down. My breath hitched when her hand slipped inside, into the heat beneath the fabric.