Page 44 of Challenge Me

I traced Fox’s lips with two fingers. His mouth opened, his long tongue curling around them and drawing them inside. He sucked greedily, the heat of his throat startling against the cool shadow of his face. His chrome fangs scraped my knuckles before biting down hard enough to threaten blood.

I hissed. Pain sparked through my hand, sharp and clean, traveling directly down my spine. My cock hardened beneath him almost instantly.

“Fox.” I tried to sound like I was scolding him, but he had swallowed a third finger, his throat hot and vibrating around them as his engine purred beneath us.

Gods.

I was only a man, and men were weak.

“Damn it, Fox.” My voice broke into a groan as I pulled my hand from his mouth. Strings of saliva stretched between his lips and my fingers before snapping across his chin.

I closed that wet hand around his throat.

Fox laughed, low and satisfied, his head tipping back against my grip. His engine revved in encouragement. I tightened my fingers, watching the darkness of his body shift around them, his claws flexing against my chest.

I reached blindly for the lever beside the seat and flicked it. The backrest dropped beneath me, carrying my weight, and Fox followed without hesitation, looming above me, all teeth and glowing eyes.

One impatient movement of my hand freed my cock from my pants. I caught Fox by the back of the neck and pushed him down.

His mouth found me immediately.

Heat closed around the head of my cock, then slid lower in one smooth, hungry motion. He took me in until his lips met the base, deep, warm, and willing. His throat tightened around me, swallowing every involuntary jerk of my hips.

I slapped a hand over my mouth. A broken sound still escaped between my fingers. I bit down hard on one knuckle, trying to keep myself quiet while Fox hummed around me, clearly delighted by the effort it took not to gasp.

I had fought in world-ending wars. I had stood before gods and refused to kneel. I helped save entire universes from things too terrible for most minds to comprehend, yet holding back a moan in the front seat of a 1992 Mustang was apparently the most difficult challenge I had ever faced. I sucked in another ragged breath and buried my fingers in his shadowy hair; it changed texture beneath my hand, smoke turning thick and silky wherever I touched it. I pulled him down harder, pushing his tight, greedy mouth onto my cock while my hips bucked upwards to meet him.

Fox growled around me. His entire frame trembled, his engine revving in uneven bursts. The dash lit up, the radio crackling to life for half a second, blasting a burst of static before falling silent again.

I knew exactly how much fuel he was burning. I cared very little. All that mattered was the leather gripping my back, the heat around my cock, and the pressure of Fox’s throat tightening each time I pushed deeper.

I couldn’t last longer than a few minutes with Fox swallowing me like that, no more than a Mustang could resist driving head-first into a crowd.

My climax hit hard enough to make me reconsider my entire life; the academy, the wars, the apocalypses—my place in the universe. The number tattooed behind my ear and every terrible decision attached to it. For one blinding instant, all of those enormous, defining pieces of me seemed impossibly small compared to the feeling of Fox’s mouth.

My body locked beneath him. My free hand gripped the edge of the seat, and Fox held me deep, tightening around my cock as I spilled into him.

Before he could swallow all the evidence, I dragged him upright.

His body flowed over mine, smoke and shadow temporarily taking the shape of a man. I caught the back of his head and crushed my lips against his.

The taste of myself filled my mouth with salt and heat and something metallic from where Fox’s fang had nicked my finger. I pressed into his mouth, chasing every trace of myself from his tongue while Fox moaned into the kiss.

I melted into him. Barely human, just a feeling against the shadow. Both of us were nothing but heated metal and tangled wires, our circuits buzzing in simultaneous orgasm. His engine shuddered beneath me, each vibration answering the aftershocks still moving through my body.

I licked the final taste of myself from his lips and caught him in another desperate kiss.

Let everything else be damned. He reduced me to nothing. How could a 1992 Fox Body Mustang accomplish what immortal warlords, ancient monsters, and entire pantheons could not?

I fell back onto the leather seat as the chrome claws dug into my skin, dragging deep red welts through my flesh and through my old tattoo ink.

As much as I owned Fox, Fox owned me, too.

I lay there for another moment, breathing hard and savoring the last waves of pleasure while Fox sprawled possessively over my chest, before I glanced up as I heard heels striking the stairs. My body went still.

I recognized that sound instantly; I could always tell the difference between heeled steps, though I’d never confess it, already confident of the jokes I’d have to endure. My wife’s heels had a playful, curious tone, as if she were inviting me to join a game. Lai’s heels, though, sounded different. It wasn’t a lively knock on the concrete floor, nor did it hint at anything fun. His heels struck like the ticking of a clock; each measured strike echoed through the garage with the cold precision of a countdown.

Tick.