Don’t Poke the Luna Chapter 60

Xena’s POV

The air in my motorcycle shop was thick with the scent of oil and steel. The dim light cast shadows across his chiseled jaw, and those piercing eyes of his locked onto mine, daring me to make a move. A spark ignited deep in my chest, wild and reckless, and I couldn’t shake the words echoing in my head: *If you can play, so can I.*

I stepped closer, my boots scuffing against the concrete floor, and before I could overthink it, my hand darted out. My fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his shorts, brushing against the heat of his skin. I wrapped my hand around him, stroking slowly, deliberately, feeling him harden under my touch. My heart slammed against my ribcage like a drum, each beat urging me on. This was a risk, a challenge—he’d pushed me before, and now it was my turn to push back.

“Xena,” Ryder growled, his voice low and rough, a warning laced with heat. “You’re playing with fire.”

I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze with a defiant smirk. “Good thing I’m ready to burn.”

For a heartbeat, we stood there, the tension crackling between us like a live wire. Then, with a sound that was half-growl, half-snarl, Ryder yanked my hand away. Before I could catch my breath, his hands were on me, tugging my shorts down in one swift motion until they pooled at my ankles. My mind blanked, a rush of shock and raw need flooding through me. My skin prickled as the cool air hit me, but the heat in his eyes burned hotter than anything I’d ever felt.

I barely registered what was happening before he stripped off my shirt and bra, leaving me bare in front of him. My breath hitched, my chest heaving as embarrassment warred with desire. Then he lifted me, strong arms hoisting me onto the counter. Papers, tools, even the old rotary phone clattered to the floor as he cleared the space with a sweep of his arm. He parted my legs, spreading them wide, and my eyes widened as I realized how exposed I was—how much I wanted this.

“Watch me,” he commanded, his voice a dark rumble that vibrated through me. “Watch what I do to you.”

My gaze locked onto his hands, those rough, capable fingers that knew exactly where to touch. They moved over me with a precision that stole my breath, teasing, stroking, igniting every nerve in my body. I gripped the edge of his shorts, my nails digging in as I fought to anchor myself against the tidal wave of sensation. My heart was a runaway train, pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Shame flickered at the edges of my mind, but it was swallowed whole by the pleasure crashing through me.

“Oh—oh—oh!” The sounds tore from my throat, desperate and broken, as I teetered on the edge of release. But just as I was about to fall, Ryder pulled his hand back, leaving me dangling in agonizing emptiness.

I nearly sobbed, my body trembling with unmet need. “What the hell?” I gasped, my face flushing hot as I glared at him.

He smirked, that infuriating, sexy smirk that made me want to slap him and kiss him all at once. “What’s that, huh?”

“Please,” I begged, the word spilling out before I could stop it. Pride be damned—I needed him to finish what he’d started.

Ryder didn’t hesitate. He put me on the cold counter as he buried his face between my thighs. My hips jolted, a cry escaping me as his mouth took over, hot and relentless. I rode the waves of his tongue, one hand fisting in his hair to keep him there, the other clawing at the counter. Thought melted away, drowned by the flood of ecstasy building inside me. My nails scraped against him, my voice reduced to shattered moans. *Don’t stop, don’t stop,* I screamed in my head, but all that came out was, “Oh, Ryder, please!”

His fingers joined in, pressing and circling as he sucked harder, and finally—*finally*—he let me go. The release hit me like a storm, shattering me into a million pieces. I felt weightless, floating, my body trembling as the aftershocks rippled through me. Ryder shuddered too, his breath ragged against my skin as he pulled back, leaving me sprawled across the counter, legs splayed, completely undone.

He climbed up beside me, his weight pressing against the counter as he hovered over me. “You okay, little one?” His voice was softer now, tender in a way that caught me off guard. *Little one?* No one had ever called me that before, and damn if it didn’t make my chest ache.

“Yeah,” I panted, my words stumbling over each other. “Completely… fine.”

“Good.” He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle. “You should shower before we head out.”

“Uh-huh,” I mumbled, but my limbs felt like jelly, refusing to move.

“Come on, William’s waiting for you to train.” He smirked again, that playful edge returning.

I groaned, propping myself up on shaky elbows. “You drain me dry and expect me to go train? Seriously?”

Ryder laughed, a deep, rich sound that warmed me from the inside out. “Damn right I do.”

He hauled me to my feet, steering me toward the bathroom with a nudge. “I’ll clean up here. You go wash off.”

“This is all your mess,” I grumbled, but he just shut the door behind me with a grin.

The hot water hit my skin, and as it streamed over me, I couldn’t stop replaying every second of what had just happened. His kisses, his hands, the way he’d taken control and then softened—it swirled in my mind, leaving me dizzy with want. I scrubbed myself clean, knowing I’d just get sweaty again during training, but it didn’t matter. I was still buzzing, alive in a way I hadn’t been before.

When I stepped out, dressed in fresh clothes, the shop was spotless. Ryder had even run the disinfectant machine, the faint hum lingering in the air. “How’d you—?”

“Watched you do it once,” he said with a shrug, flicking off the lights. “Let’s go.”

I reached for the door, but he grabbed my arm, spinning me back to face him. His lips brushed mine, soft and sweet, a contrast to the fire from earlier. “Good luck with training,” he murmured.

I grinned, a mischievous spark flaring in me. “If this is the warm-up, I might need more training sessions.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, rolling his eyes with that fond, exasperated look I was starting to love.

We stepped outside, the cool night air hitting my face—just as a screech of tires split the silence. “Get down!” Ryder roared, tackling me to the ground. Bullets peppered his truck, the sharp *ping-ping-ping* ringing in my ears. My brain froze, fear icing through my veins as he shielded me. The attackers peeled away, their taillights vanishing into the dark, leaving us in a haze of dust and adrenaline.

My legs shook as I pushed myself up, forcing the panic down. “You okay?” I asked, my voice tight as I stared at the bullet-riddled truck.

“I’m fine,” Ryder said, pulling me to my feet. “We need to move.”

We scrambled into the truck—miraculously, it still started—and Ryder floored it, tires squealing as we sped off. “Call your dad,” he said, his tone shifting, darker, urgent. “Tell him to meet us at my pack.”

I fumbled for my phone, my hands trembling as I dialed. “Dad, it’s me. Ryder and I just got shot at—get Logan and meet us at Alpha Benedict’s!”

“Are you hurt?” Dad’s voice cracked with worry.

“No, Ryder saved me.” I glanced at him, and my stomach dropped. His face was pale, too pale. “Ryder, are you hit?”

His eyes fluttered, the truck swerving. “Dad!” I screamed as we veered off the road, crashing into a tree with a bone-jarring thud. The impact flung me out, landing me hard on the grass. I gasped, checking myself—nothing broken, thank God—and stumbled to my feet.

Ryder was slumped over the airbag, blood seeping from his arm. “Ryder!” I yelled.