Be My Moon

Mechele Armstrong

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Hilary is enjoying a night under the full moon when out of nowhere, comes a man. His first words are to ask her name so that he knows what to call her when he has her under him. Rourke has been looking for another Moon Person f...
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Hilary is enjoying a night under the full moon when out of nowhere, comes a man. His first words are to ask her name so that he knows what to call her when he has her under him.

Rourke has been looking for another Moon Person for years and can’t resist Hilary’s scent. They are alike and the power release when they have sex is out of this world.

Only Hilary can’t quite believe the lore that Rourke is telling her about them, even though it makes so much sense. She can’t be a Moon Person. But when danger lurks and forcibly takes Rourke away from her, she can’t imagine life without him. It might be too late, but she has to try and get him back to ask whether he will be her moon.

  • Note:This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse.
The moon shone with glistening luster as it reflected off the ocean waves. It sent shimmery glints across the turbulent sea. The waves stormed in to land on the glimmery sand as if they were trying to beat it to death. The ocean was angry.

It was having its time of the month.

Hilary flopped down in that same sand being torn asunder by waves. She shook her wet hair back before luxuriating in the moonbeams, which invigorated her skin. Tingling from head to toe, she stretched out her muscles as she basked in the moonlight much like a cat in a sunny patch.

Thankfully, she wasn’t having her time of the month. Instead, she was at her peak, her best time of the last few weeks.

The moon was full tonight. It was a large circle, taking up the sky and putting the stars to shame even though it didn’t possess its own light.

“Thank God for the full moon.”

She turned her face up to look at the spotted orb in the sky. The one that controlled her destiny.

Nights like these she could soak up the wonderfulness that was her life. Only during times of the fingernail moon did she despair about her origins and her future. What would become of someone who slept during the day and played in the moonlight of night? What would become of someone who was at her best when the tides were highest and the moon was full? How could she ever hope to lead a normal life? They were all the questions she asked during the small-moon time. Now they didn’t seem so important.

Normal was a relative term.

No one was normal. Only she was less so than most.

As she always did when the moon was full and she played in its glow, she paused to search herself for signs. She looked for fur. For muscles turning more canine than human.

And like each time before, she found nothing to indicate she was a werewolf. Nothing besides the fact she was a moon lover.

She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing back wet bangs from her face. She felt more alive now than at any other time of the month. If only this feeling lasted longer than a few days. If only she could harness it and feel like this all the time.

The breeze came off the ocean, picking up in intensity. A chill moved across her, causing goose bumps to bubble up and her tiny hairs to stand on end.

Good thing she’d moved to a warmer climate so she could be out in the moonshine without having to deal with severe cold. This little wind was nothing compared to where she’d lived before.

She had the impression someone was watching her. Had all evening, but she didn’t see anyone else out on the beach.

It was ludicrous. No one would be watching her. “Still no sign of furries.” She liked to say the words out loud. That was a good thing. Her biggest fear was that during one full moon, she’d turn into a werewolf.

She rubbed her arms, trying to stave off the chill that had stayed with her. She wasn’t ready to head in yet. Instead, she would stay out until the last moon rays bathed her. She wouldn’t miss a second of this perfect full moon--not blocked by clouds or a bad schedule.

Maybe a werewolf would at least have a mate. Unlike her. So far, she remained mateless and dateless. Hard to find someone who understood her odd hours, especially when she didn’t understand them herself. Even her friends had trouble, but her best friend, wife of the magistrate, had led her to this island.

During the times of the small moon, she was so angsty and testy, she didn’t want anyone in her life. It was only at the time of the full moon that she became restless for someone to share it with. She had an idea deep down in her heart that she was looking for someone. Who that someone was, she didn’t know.

But even without a man in her bed, life wasn’t too bad. There was always a vibrator and her fingers to keep her going.

Although, she’d rather those fingers were attached to someone else. Someone she could almost picture but never quite enough to know who they were.

“If only I could find you.” She didn’t even know who she spoke the words to, only that there was more she needed to find one day. One day. A day that never came because she felt too good during the full moon and not well enough when the moon was small. She’d been complacent here on her island. Too complacent.

Movement caught her eye from farther down on the beach. The full moon made it easier to see quite a distance.

Someone was coming.

She watched a person swim toward her position. They exited the ocean onto the sand still a distance away from her and headed up the beach toward her with long-limbed grace. She couldn’t make out any features; there was still too much shadow for that but she could see enough to know it was a male.

Had the sudden breeze delivered this person to fulfill her wish? She hadn’t seen anyone else on this stretch of sand since the annoying sun had gone down into the cloud bank. Where had he come from? She’d wished a million times, and sand had never delivered the one she was supposed to find.

She smiled at the thought. If only the breeze could bring her a man. Or another friend. Hell, maybe she could have both.

The person didn’t stop or meander on the desolate beach but headed straight for her in an unwavering arc.

She sat up straighter. She hadn’t seen him arrive. The wind hadn’t brought him. So who had? Surely he hadn’t swum there from out in the ocean. Unless it was a mermaid. She guessed the proper term would be a merman.

She watched his approach, taking in features as he moved closer.

Dark swim trunks. No shirt. Unless the person was European, it was definitely a man. She didn’t see bouncing breasts, only a wide chest. Bulging arms and legs that moved in tandem with the large torso captured her gaze.

Definitely a man.

And a big one at that.

She looked at the small pieces of nearby driftwood. If need be, she could use one to bash him over the head. If he tried anything.

He was a lost tourist. Had to be someone who had no purpose other than finding his way.

He seemed to be headed her way. She wasn’t sure why. It was a big beach. Plenty big enough for them to share, but he was headed right for her.

He moved even closer.

She reached for a piece of driftwood and stopped as something hit her nose with a tantalizing burst on the breeze.

The scent overpowered her with all the force of a cement truck going about ninety miles an hour. It almost made her collapse. If she’d been standing, she could have lost her balance.

She took in a hefty breath of his heady smell. Her nostrils flared as she received the tendrils of scent.

Musky. Woodsy. Even under the salt smell from the ocean, she could smell the man. She could envision green land with dark earth. Could envision trees with green leaves opening up for the moon in an obsidian sky. Moon. That was the smell underneath the upper scents.

He smelled of Moon.

He smelled good.

Too good.

She went on full alert. Her nipples swelled while tingling their liking. Her spine moved along a shiver from the top of her neck to the start of her pelvis. Her pussy moistened as the fire of her desire ran across her.

He was the best thing she’d smelled in all her years on Earth. Better than fresh-baked cookies. Better than apple pie. Better even than sex in the morning. She could breathe him in for hours, maybe even days.

He stopped almost five feet from her.

She’d sat up and stared at him with her eyes wide, trying to take him all in. She should have stood. He towered about her, making her want to flit and flee. No, she wasn’t running, but meeting him at eye level would have been good--instead of staring up at him. Although, as tall as he seemed, she’d probably be looking up at him anyway. He had her at a disadvantage this way. She wasn’t about to stand and look like the fool now, because he would know why. So she put a casual look on her face like this happened all the time.

His gaze bored into hers like he could eat her alive, and as hungry as that gaze was, she believed that he could. It was hard to maintain a casual flair when he looked at her like that.

She swallowed as he stared at her. The weight of his attention fell on her shoulders like a mantle, only she couldn’t break free of that gaze to ease the feeling in the pit of her stomach. Did she know him? This felt familiar, but she could have sworn she’d never seen him before.

He kept looking at her, not coming any closer, but that stare was worse than any touch of their bodies because it did more to her than if he’d touched her.

“Who are you?” Her voice sounded as though it belonged to someone else. She sounded all deep and throaty, sexy even. She could do sex lines with that voice. She’d never sounded like this in her life. What was he doing to her?

“Rourke.” His voice was a rough baritone that sank into her soul like he’d always been there. An edge of familiarity gripped her, yet she’d swear she’d never heard his voice before either.

“No, I mean who are you?” His name was incidental--it was who he was that was important. Somehow, she knew he’d understand that.

Or maybe not. He looked confused. Almost as confused as she felt by asking the question. She’d thought he’d know what she was trying to say.

“Who are you really?” There was something about him. It sat out of her reach. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the reason, but he was important.

The confused look left his face as though he finally understood her question. “Salvation.” He sounded surer of that than of his given name.

Delusions of grandeur. Only it seemed like the right answer to her, even with the enormity of what that word meant. Her heart pounded with beats more rapid than they’d ever been before. What was happening to her? How could anyone be her salvation? She didn’t understand, but she wanted to. Her entire physique seemed on alert for something. Her pussy tingled and moistened. Her suit was too tight, and she wanted to kick it from her torso. It was too restricting. Her breasts wanted to be free.

“Who are you?” He still didn’t move closer but remained where he stood, about five feet in front of her. The waves crashed into the sand behind him, roaring their pleasure as they took over the beach. High tide. Soon the beach would be eaten away until the tide rolled out again.

“Does it matter?” She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to answer him. Only that it seemed by her giving her name, he might get some power over her. He had enough already with her physical self reacting to him this strongly.


“Why?” She tried to read the unreadable. His face. He gave up no feelings or secrets in that look. He was an enigma. Even so, her eyes still sought to tell what they could about him and what they could report to her brain.

“Because I need to know what name to call out.”

“What name to call out?” That made no sense. She was right in front of him. Why would he be calling her name? She wasn’t lost. Only that was it, wasn’t it? She had been lost. Now she’d been found. By him.

“As I’m fucking you.”

Her entire body clenched, and her throat hollowed out with dryness. She should be scandalized, but too many pictures moved across her brain of him doing what he said he would do. He would move over her. She couldn’t shake the images. They took any hint of being horrified in their wake. He was over her like some sea god come to roost. Inside her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do either.

With that, he marched closer. Held her gaze captive with his as he knelt beside her. He came within inches but didn’t touch her with his hands or body.

But she could feel his heat. Feel the warmth that spiraled out of him like he was a volcano. She closed her eyes and bathed in that warmth.

She’d never felt anything like that. She was always cold--except when the moon was full, even in this warm climate she’d chosen. His heat could take care of any and all chills for a lifetime.

A touch. To her chin.

He grazed one of his thumbs alongside her cheek as his hand came to rest on her chin. “Open your eyes.”

She opened them, obeying without question. Not at all like her to be so subservient. His mouth was close. So close. He had a proud mouth and a jutting chin with high cheekbones. His dark hair framed his face. But the eyes captivated her. They were a light blue that shone iridescent in the light of the moon. She’d never seen eyes that color. They were aqua ice fire.

“Tell me your name.”

Copyright © Mechele Armstrong


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