Chapter 63: Visuals

Chapter 63 Lenora "Lenora, do you know that I love you?" Ronan asks as we’re ushered by a small army of staff toward what appears to be a private fucking plane. I don’t think it truly hit me until this moment—that my mate isn’t just powerful in the wolf sense, he’s powerful in the world sense. Wealthy. Untouchable. I suddenly feel self-conscious in my plain T-shirt and shorts, but Cameron told me to dress comfortably. Ronan’s dressed the same, though with him, the casual look somehow screams I could buy this entire airport if I wanted to. "Do you? I didn’t get the memo," I reply, lifting a brow. "I knew enduring all these years of your friendship would pay off one day," he says. "Enduring, huh?" I’m about to pinch his ear when I see him. Standing in front of the plane, next to a sleek black car, phone to his ear, is my mate. Those suits. Those bloody suits. The ones he wears every morning to work, tailored so perfectly they look like they were sewn directly onto his body. I don’t know what it is about them, but they’re lethal. Like, criminally attractive. I want to drop to my knees right there on the tarmac, let him have his way with me, feel his hand in my hair, choke on— He turns his head. Our eyes lock. He narrows his, just slightly, but enough to feel like he’s stripped my thoughts bare. That’s not possible... is it? No. No way. The mate bond is there, but it’s been one-sided so far. I’m the only one who can sense his emotions—a low hum in my chest, steady and undeniable. On rare, freak occasions, I can catch the edge of his thoughts, like a radio signal breaking through static. It’s only natural. I’ve been the one more willing to open myself to the bond. And that’s fine. We have all the time in the world. We close the distance. Staff—at least, I assume that’s what they are—swoop in, taking the suitcases Ronan and I brought. Ronan disappears up the plane stairs like he’s been doing it all his life. "It’s going to be at least twenty minutes until Simone’s here," Cameron says, his voice smooth but clipped, like he’s already thinking about something else. He places a hand on my lower back and steers me toward the car—black, sleek, tinted windows. I slide inside first, sinking into the leather that smells faintly of cedar and him. Cameron follows, closing the door with a muted thunk. Then, without a word, he reaches down and starts to unbuckle his belt. *** Cameron There I am, on the phone, mid-business call, having what I thought was a normal day. Lenora is on her way. In my head, it’s supposed to be simple — pick her up, take her to see those elephants she’s been obsessing over. I’d even planned a private reserve visit, no tourists, just her and the animals she wouldn’t shut up about. But mid-sentence, right between negotiating tariffs and telling my manager to call back later with the new figures, it hit me. Not just a feeling. Not the warm tug of her emotions that I’ve gotten used to sensing through our mate bond. No—this was a picture,this mental image slams into my brain —Lenora on her knees, looking up at me with those gray eyes, her mouth stretched around me, swallowing me down. It’s so sharp, so vivid, it feels real. Which is insane, because I haven’t even seen her since this morning, when I left her tangled in the sheets, hair a mess, still asleep while I went to work. And I wasn’t even thinking of anything remotely sexual — I was in full work mode, not in the mood for daydreams,the call was about contracts and shipping schedules, for fuck’s sake. But here I am, with my pulse kicking up, and realising something , we’ve clearly upgraded from just feeling her emotions through the mate bond to now getting full-blown visuals of her doing filthy things to me. I get into the car after her, shutting the door. I’m reaching for my belt, half-intending to tease her about what I just saw in my head when she leans over the seat like she owns the space and takes over heading straight for my pants like a woman possessed. No hesitation, unzipping my pants, pushing past the waistband of my underwear. And then she leans down and takes me into her mouth. My head falls back against the seat. The air leaves my lungs in one long groan. "Oh, fuck—Lenora, slow down." She doesn’t slow down. If anything, she gets more determined, more relentless. Her lips seal around me, taking me deeper until I feel the back of her throat. The suction is obscene, her tongue moving in long, wet strokes, the kind that make my vision go static for a second. My hips jerk before I can stop them. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away — she’s on a mission. I feel something sharp. Not normal human teeth sharp. Canine sharp. It grazes me and I shiver. The normal reaction to something that dangerous next to your bloody dick should be fear, but all I feel is heat rushing straight through me. Looks like I’ve got new kinks. Her tongue isn’t soft and warm anymore. It’s longer. Rougher. Built to drag over every nerve until I’m twitching,dragging over me in a way that has my hands flexing against the leather seat. "What the fuck..." I manage, the words breaking on a gasp. I don’t last long. So much for twenty minutes. In less than five I’m done, holding her head down. I don’t even have to—she’s already taking me as deep as she can, like she wants to break me. My eyes roll back. My toes curl inside my shoes. I can’t breathe, can’t think, only give in until the last pulse leaves me shaking. I exhale hard and slump against the seat, my body still buzzing. Lenora straightens, completely calm, and pulls a handkerchief from my inner pocket. She wipes her mouth, then me, tucks me back into my underwear, zips up my pants, and buckles my belt like it’s nothing. "Hey, mate," she says, all innocence, as if she didn’t just ruin me. Fuck taking her to see the bloody elephants. I’ll buy her a goddamn zoo.