Chapter 25
Story
Iwake thirstier than I’ve ever been and guzzle the bottle of water by the bed. Padding as quietly as I can to the bathroom, I pee, brush my teeth again, and take a long, hard look in the mirror.
Seducing Hendricks last night wasn’t my plan, but when opportunities present themselves, you have to take them. And seducing him was way better than anything I’ve already come up with. But now comes the hard part—seeing it through.
“Stand firm, Story,” I mouth to myself, then wash my hands and open the door.
The bedside light is on, and as predicted, Hendricks is sitting up in bed, staring at . . . something? Anything but me, that’s for sure.
“Hendricks?”
His eyes find mine, bright blue even in the dim light. “I couldn’t leave until you’d woken up.”
“Are you already having regrets?”
“I regret nothing,” he replies.
“Then what are you thinking about?”
He sighs deeply, his head falls back against the headboard, and he looks genuinely anguished. Crossing over the room, I get back into bed and kneel next to him.
“Hendricks?”
“I don’t know how to be around you and not be in love with you. I can’t say no to you, Stor—”
“And that’s a problem, why?” I laugh, hoping to release some tension with humor.
“Because when you leave again . . .” His head shakes.
I haven’t seen Hendricks enough this week to tell him about the job offer and what I’ve decided. I would have mentioned it yesterday at polo, but he left before I could. Now is as good a time as any.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He rubs across his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I know you overheard me talking to Mrs. Benson. Miles told me. But you heard wrong. I’m only going back to Sydney to pack up my things. That’s all.”
He sits up, his body turning toward mine, and I’m pinned with an intense stare. “You’re staying in Valentine Nook?”
“I’m staying.”
He inches close enough that I can feel the heat rising from his body. “You’re staying?”
“I’m staying.”
My eyes drop to his lips, full and soft. My tongue darts out, wetting mine. My body vibrates, waiting for his touch because I’m certain it’s coming. Last night / a few hours ago / whenever it was, was all me. My orchestration. I got what I wanted at that moment, but I crave more.
We’ve always been a game of chess, and it’s his move now.
I don’t have to wait long.
I’ve barely got out my confirmation for the second time when his hands surround my face. Then his lips are on mine, crushing me, and twenty years of missed opportunities, of being too scared, of wondering what this moment would be like, are brought to a head.
Everything finally slots into place.
The faint scent of soap drifts between us with each inhale, breathing through my nose so I don’t have to disconnect from Hendricks’s mouth, and the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.
I always knew he would be a good kisser, but his tongue slipping across mine, exploring, soft yet firm, tastes like our life together is beginning.
Hendricks and Story.
Long fingers dig into my nape, hands gripping either side of my head like he’s scared I might leave again. I cling to him with equal desperation, finding it impossible to get closer.
Hendricks’s fist tangles in my hair, pulling me back. His face, so close to mine, looking at me like it’s the first time he’s seen me. Checking I’m real.
“You’re here,” he whispers, more to himself than me. “Not leaving.”
I’m about to nod the affirmative, again, but then he whips his shirt off.
“Holy shit.” I’ve seen cheese graters less impressive. Reaching out, I run my fingers over the hard, deep ridges of his abs. I was right, Hendricks is an absolute rig. “You got ripped.”
He laughs, dry and humorless. “Celibacy will do that to you. I needed to channel it somewhere.”
My brows shoot up, his response taking me by surprise. “There’s been no one?”
He looks away and shrugs. “There has been the odd night or two when Miles has dragged me out, but no one regular. No one I wanted to bring into Max’s life.”
His words hang in the air unspoken. Because Max is the priority, and I know that navigating a relationship with Hendricks will require time and patience.
“Well,” I say, watching his breath catch as I take a second pass, ghosting my fingers over each deeply defined muscle and down to the crevices on either side of his hips. “I approve.”
My hand skates lower to the impressive tent in his pajama bottoms, the one that caused me to orgasm so hard I nearly blacked out.
His hand darts, and fingers wrap around my wrist. “Not yet.”
“Hen—” It’s a desperate, childish plea.
He chuckles, and this time, I hear the amusement. “I know it’s not your strong suit, but have patience, Story.”
It really isn’t. Even watching him reach out, using his thumb to gently push aside my bra straps when I want to rip them off my body and rub against his, is driving me crazy. So I’m unprepared when he yanks me closer and onto his lap.
His mouth drags across my chest, hands roaming my curves, palms flat on my back. I’m so distracted by his tongue licking the length of my neck that I don’t register he’s unsnapped my bra until it falls away.
Huge, strong hands, so used to dealing with unruly animals, gently cup my breasts. He studies me, like one would a piece of art, with consideration and reverence.
“Story, fuck. They’re perfect,” he says before burying his face between my breasts, mumbling words I cannot hear.
Wetness floods between my legs. His lips find a nipple and close around it.
Using his tongue, he teases the bud like it’s a challenge to see how rock-hard he can get it.
I’m convinced they can already cut glass.
On my other breast, his thumb moves in circles between pinches and swipes.
The mixed sensation of the two is enough to have my head explode.
My ability to hold on becomes a tenuous thread when his hand slips between my legs, and he groans.
His solid thighs widen, splaying me open, and the expression forming as he peers between my legs is nothing short of wolfish while he runs a finger back and forth across the satin strip of my knickers.
“Is this how wet you were last night, Stor? Riding my lap? Getting yourself off?” he asks, pushing the fabric aside. I drip onto his palm.
My response is a gasp when one thick finger slides inside me.
His finger twists. “Tell me.”
“Ohhh, yes.” I exhale.
“How long have you been waiting?”
With lips on my neck, his thumb finds my clit. I writhe against his palm, needing to increase the pressure. His legs spread farther, opening me up, the movement forcing my hips forward.
It feels like forever, literally and figuratively.
I buck against a second finger pushing inside me up to the knuckle, a delicious sensation hurtling me nearer to detonation. They work together, scissoring and stretching me, curling up to hit that perfect spot. Whether he’s been celibate or not, there’s no doubt I’m in the hands of a master.
I open my mouth to tell him, but all that comes out of me is a deep groan, a cry, and a prayer.
“Want to hear a secret?”
My head is barely attached to my neck, but I nod.
“I’ve never come in my pants before, Stor, and fuck me, I nearly blacked out.”
I’m trying to concentrate on his words, but all I can focus on is the torturous in / out of his fingers, and the weight of his throbbing cock against my hip.
“Seeing you come . . . feeling you come . . .” His thumb swipes my clit. “You’re so wet, Stor . . . so ready for me to fuck you.”
My orgasm shoots down my spine, the force ripping any solidity I have in my bones. I’m a jellied mess slumped against a chest of rock-hard muscle.
Hendricks’s breath is as jagged as mine, but I’m not anywhere near done. He’s lit the match of my fuse.
I gently release the elastic of his pajamas, and his dick frees itself.
Taking it in my hand, I understand why he was attempting to stretch me wider. He is big. Thick. I can barely fit my fingers around the circumference thick. I’m equal parts nervous and excited about the power I hold in my hands.
When I run my thumb over the slick precum, I’m rewarded with a tight hiss of air through his teeth.
“Nice growing, Hen.”
The smile is wiped off my face, however, as my legs are ripped from under me, and in my next breath, I’m staring at the ceiling. Blue eyes and a wide grin come into focus.
“None of your smart mouth right now.” His voice is two octaves lower, like it’s been dragged over coals and barrel-smoked for six months. “I won’t last.”
He leaves my field of vision. The bed dips, and I hear the soft padding of footsteps across the bedroom floorboards. Thirty seconds later, he returns, resuming his position of kneeling between my legs. Easing up on my elbows, I spot a foil packet ripped open.
There’s something so arousing about watching a man roll on a condom, gripping himself with both strength and tenderness. When he’s done, his hands wrap around my calves, slowly rubbing along the back, behind my knees, and the sensitive spot hidden in the crook.
My skin crackles as his hands take free rein. Fingers knead my thighs, but his eyes? They never stray from the spot between my legs.
He takes hold of his dick, running the blunt end through my slit and up to my clit. It’s torturously slow, mind melding with each pressured swipe, until the tip stops and presses into my entrance.
I let out a sharp gasp and I’m squirming even before he begins his impalement, writhing against him as my body struggles to adapt to his size.
“Stay still, Story. Wriggling’s only going to make it worse,” he rasps, his jaw clenched. “I promise, I’ll fit.”
I barely manage a breath before he pushes in another inch.
“Fuuuck”––his tongue drags over his lips—“look at you taking me. So good, Stor. Such a good girl.”
My hips rise to meet him, adjusting, and he watches himself fill me while I watch him. He’s barely halfway in, while I’m too full to breathe.
I never thought Hendricks Burlington could get hotter. I was wrong.
The concentration on his face, nostrils flaring while he mutters “a little more . . . yes, so tight. . . good girl”, showing me he’s a band ready to snap, is so fucking hot.
My body sizzles more with each inch he takes from me, until he’s finally buried inside me and I can feel his balls snug against my arse.
We fit together perfectly, like I always knew we would.
His forehead is damp when it drops to mine, resting as he catches his breath and regains control. “Fuck. Fuck. This is . . . it’s better than . . .”
He doesn’t need to finish his sentence because I know. I know. Better than anything either of us could have imagined.
Breathing through my nose, I wait out the stinging of being stretched so wide.
And then, sensing my body has settled into his size before I do, Hendricks unleashes himself.
Stroke after long, deep stroke, his eyes never leave mine. He memorizes every expression my face makes, adjusting his moves until I make them again. He murmurs sweet nothings in my ear, only to follow them up with, “You’re so fucking desperate for my cock, Story. Look at you.”
It’s those words, growled into the crook of my neck, that really get me wet. They make my skin hum. And he knows. He can read my body like a map. Tweaked nipple here, grind of my clit there, and I’m clawing his back.
“I’ve imagined you like this since I knew what it meant, what we could be together.”
Kneeling up, he props one leg around his hip, gaining purchase. My fists bunch the sheets, desperate to stop myself from being pummeled up the mattress.
“But it’s so. Much. Better.” He punctuates each word with a thrust that has me spinning.
I can barely catch my breath, let alone form words to respond. My back bows like I was a contortionist in a previous life, meeting each punishing drive forward. Those powerful hips and thighs I watched control six different horses yesterday now control me.
His eyes meet mine with an intensity I’ve never seen in Hendricks before, his irises almost completely swallowed. It’s carnal. It’s possessive. And I fucking love it.
He’s mine. I’m his. I’ve always been his.
It’s our undoing.
My pussy spasms around him, and his fingers bruise my thighs as he fucks me relentlessly until he empties himself inside me with such force, I swear I taste him in the back of my throat.
He collapses to the side with a hoarse, “Fuck.”
I’ve barely caught my breath before I sense him moving next to me, and I wait to see if he leaves. Instead, he shifts closer, wraps himself around me, and after a whispered good night, the bristle of his stubble brushing against my cheek with a kiss, I fall into a dreamless sleep.
When I wake, Hendricks is gone, but next to the bed is a fresh bottle of water, electrolytes, more painkillers, and a note.
Drink this.