Don't Poke the Luna (Xena and Ryder)

Don't Poke the Luna

Chapter 91

Xena's POV

"Y-Yes... yes..." My voice quivered, words stumbling over themselves as the sharp edge of pain melted into a rush of pleasure. Each sensation was a wave, pulling me deeper into Ryder's orbit. I could el his awareness of my body's shift, the moment I relaxed beneath him. He quickened his pace, but there was still a careful restraint in his movements, like he was holding back a storm just for me.

"I can't hold on much longer," Ryder rasped, his voice strained with the effort of control. His rhythm intensified, each thrust steady but faster, coaxing my body to meet him. The moonlight bathed us, sting shadows across the picnic blanket spread beneath us, the night alive with the hum of our connection.

"Oh!" A moan escaped me as that familiar pressure began to build again, coiling tight in my core. Ryder's lips found my neck, trailing fire across my skin until they lingered on my collarbone, that sensitive spot that made my entire body shudder. "Ryder!" His name was a plea, a confession of how desperately I needed him, how completely he consumed me.

"Just a little longer," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. My legs tightened around his waist, anchoring me to him. In one fluid motion, he lifted me, repositioning us so I was straddling his lap. My hips moved instinctively, rocking against him with a force that outpaced his own thrusts. His hands gripped my hips, firm and guiding, syncing our rhythms until we were one. A primal urge surged within me, raw and undeniable-the need to mark him, to claim him as mine. My fangs descended, a flicker of hesitation in my eyes as I wrestled with the weight of what it meant.

Ryder saw it, his gaze steady and warm, filled with unspoken encouragement. "Do it," he said softly, his voice a lifeline. I met his eyes, and he gently pulled me closer, his strength a quiet support. My lips brushed the curve of his neck, and his body trembled beneath me. Then, with a breath, I sank my fangs into his skin, piercing deep until I felt bone. A guttural growl rumbled from his chest, his arms wrapping around me in a fierce embrace. His breathing was ragged, but he kept us moving, our bodies still locked in their dance.

Slowly, I retracted my fangs, my tongue gliding over the wound, tasting the metallic tang of his blood mingled with his scent. It sent my heart racing, the intimacy of the act binding us closer. Ryder pulled my head back, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that was all fire and passion. It was as if our souls touched, the mate bond thrumming between us. "I'm about to lose it," he warned, his voice thick with need.

of pain or doubt. Finding none, he laid me back on the blanket and unleashed himself. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the quiet valley, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. “Ryder!” I moaned, my body trembling under the intensity, my breasts bouncing with his

expose my neck. My nerves sparked, my pulse thundering in my ears. He leaned closer, his body pressed against mine,

begged, the pressure inside me

love you," he whispered, and then his fangs sank into my neck, piercing deep. My scream shattered the night, scattering birds from the trees as our climaxes collided, a torrent of ecstasy that consumed us both. A deep growl vibrated through Ryder's chest, the final piece of our mate bond locking into place, sealing us

with a tenderness that made my chest tighten. My body felt weightless, drained, as darkness crept into the edges of my vision, "Don't fight it. Sleep, love. I'll

love you," he murmured, his voice

words fading as

their songs weaving through the

1/2

Chapter 91

skin, comforting and electric It was the mate bond, alive and humming, wrapping me in its embrace. "You awake?"

rolling over to bury my face in his chest. Ifis warmth, his scent, was home. I wanted to stay here

birthday," he said, his hand stroking my back in

I replied, my voice thick with sleep, a smile tugging at my

head back. There's a birthday breakfast waiting for you," he said, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns on