Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 466: Lisa: Subverted

His skin tastes like salt and something distinctly Kellan—a flavor I can’t name but already crave. I take my time beneath the covers, just barely brushing my lips against the sharp jut of his hip bone. The hospital gown is bunched around his waist, and I’ve arranged the thin blanket like a curtain, shielding us from anyone who might walk in.

Though I’m thinking about anyone else right now. And even if someone did walk in? I wouldn’t stop.

My world has narrowed to this bed. To Kellan’s breath, stuttering each time my tongue grazes his skin. To the way his abs flex when I kiss just below his navel. To the pulse I feel beneath my palm when I flatten my hand across his stomach, tracing every ridge of muscle, every scar.

"I want you to remember what it feels like to be worshipped," I murmur into his skin, and I mean every word.

He deserves this. Deserves to be touched like he’s sacred. Not because he’s usually a dominant, but because he’s Kellan. Mine.

I start with kisses. Random, reverent. His inner thigh. The crease where leg meets hip. The hollow above his pelvis. Every place I touch earns a twitch, a breath, a sound.

Then I shift to licks—long, flat strokes of my tongue that make his muscles jump. Teasing flicks to trail along his skin until he’s groaning.

Next comes breath. No touch at all, just heat as I hover, mouth barely open, letting warm air drift across where he wants me most.

He’s already well on his way to rock-hard by the time I let my lips drag across the head of his cock, just once. A single, deliberate taste.

His whole body jerks. "Lisa—fuck—"

"You’re okay," I whisper, not pulling back. "You’re with me. I’ve got you."

My hand wraps around the base, and I start to stroke—slow, intentional. I twist at the top, just enough to make his hips shift.

"You’re killing me," he rasps.

lashes, and let a smile curl my lips. "Well.

tongue follows my hand, lazy circles that keep him hovering in place. Just

almost claustrophobic. Oxygen feels scarce

throat opens for him like it’s meant to. He gasps, hand trembling in my

purpose. Hollow my cheeks. Ease down,

hands. His cock throbs

So I stop.

the hard lines of his body. My head pops out of the blanket and I linger at the

His hips jerk.

rising too fast, arms rigid at his sides. His fists are

neat rows of white bandages across his chest. The bruising underneath is still angry, swollen along one side. I stay clear

trying not to touch me," I whisper, watching the tension

is tight as he says, teeth

murmur, my lips ghosting up his throat. He shivers a little, and his

flutter shut when I nip at his neck again, and the sound he makes is pure torment. One of his hands rises reflexively—but instead of grabbing me, he grips the side rail of the hospital bed

it really hard

into his skin. "Use the bed. Use the wall.

of the gown bunched at his waist. I don’t push lower—yet. I let the air between us hum

could take care of you," I whisper. "So

pressing my mouth to the spot just below his ear, where his pulse beats wild and fast. I lick there, just once, slow and lazy, and his breath hitches like I’ve punched the

"You’re evil," he breathes.

"You love it."