30. You Don’t Swallow, Baby
YOU DON’T SWALLOW, BABY
WILLOW
“I thought this was a private area,” I mumble as Raymond pulls into a secluded spot along Lake Cherry, slipping past the restricted access sign.
“It is.” His lips curl up in that self-assured smirk that makes my pulse trip over itself. “It belongs to the Hawthorne family. I borrowed it from Charles for a few hours.”
I glance around, taking in the empty parking lot, the quiet lapping of the lake against the shore, the thick blanket of stars stretching across the sky. It’s so far from the noise of town, so private, it might as well exist in another universe. My stomach does a weird little flip.
“This way.” He points ahead at a few steps in the dark and we stop at a gazebo, the kind that looks like it belongs in a movie set. Raymond pulls out his phone, taps a button, and suddenly, the place glows.
Soft fairy lights flicker on, lining the wooden beams and railing. A bench with plush black throw pillows sits in the center, a blanket draped over the armrest. On the table are two bottles and two glasses.
Wow.
“I…can’t believe you did…all this.” I swallow, trying to push back the ridiculous swell of emotion in my chest. “It’s beautiful, Ray.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Glad you like it. It was all last minute.”
How does this man know exactly what will make me pause, take a breath, and let go for once? He could have taken me to a bar or a hotel, as I assumed he would, yet he brought me outdoors, in nature.
We settle on the bench, side by side, and he tucks the blanket over my lap, a casual, easy motion that makes my stomach clench in ways I don’t have the energy to analyze. He uncorks the wine and pours a glass, then hands it to me before reaching for the second bottle.
My eyes drop to the cider.
“You really don’t drink because of Quill?”
He looks up. “Are you surprised?”
I think about it, then shake my head. “Not really. I think you’d do anything for Quill.”
“I’d do anything for the people who matter in my life, Firefly.” His gaze doesn’t move from mine, as if he’s silently telling me that I’m one of those people.
My fingers tighten around the glass.
Don’t go there, Wills. You don’t do serious, remember?
I scramble for an exit, but before I can throw up my carefully constructed walls, he clicks a remote on the table. A projector hums to life, casting a soft glow onto a pop-up screen.
I blink. “We’re watching a movie?”
“Not just any movie.” His eyes briefly flick to the screen, but he’s back to watching me as he says, “Did you know that in several cultures willow trees symbolize rebirth and resilience? It’s associated with the ability to endure hardship and loss and still love with all your heart.”
My chest goes tight, and suddenly, swallowing feels like a full-time job.
He sets both our glasses aside and turns fully toward me. “When I saw your tattoo that first night—right before Captain Lick bolted after you like a greyhound on steroids—I looked up the meaning.” His lips twitch as if, like me, he’s remembering the exact moment. “I never imagined you’d associate your name with loss. You’re one of the strongest people I know, Willow. You built something out of heartbreak. You gave my daughter courage. You’re not a symbol of mourning—you represent life.”
Raymond’s face blurs before me as hot tears pool in my eyes and slip down my cheeks before I can stop them.
“Shh.” He hands me a handkerchief, his fingers brushing mine. “I’ll be here to remind you of this as many times as you need until you believe it.”
Before I can tell him that he might be here today but people always leave, he pulls me into him. No hesitation, no space left between us.
And I let him, because I’m tired. Tired of fighting this, tired of acting like I don’t crave the way his arms feel around me or the way the cedarwood-and-lavender scent wraps around me like a safety net I never asked for.
You don’t do serious, Wills.
But maybe—just maybe—Raymond Teager is the exception to every damn rule I’ve made for myself. The thought sends a shiver rolling down my spine, and he tightens his grip, holding me like he knows I’m fighting an internal war. In this moment, it’s so easy to forget the reality of our arrangement and that my time with him is slowly coming to its end. When did the man who was my nemesis become my anchor?
Stop, Wills. Stop for your own good.
I can’t ignore my inner voice for long because she’s completely right.
I take a slow breath, tilting my head toward the screen. “Are we seriously watching Pocahontas ?”
His lips twitch against my hair. “It’s a really good movie.”
I tip my head back, narrowing my eyes. “Did you pick it so you could remind me I look like Grandmother Willow?”
Raymond laughs, the deep, rumbling sound vibrating against my cheek. “No, Miss Pershing.” He leans in, his lips at my ear, his voice all gravel and heat. “I picked it because I wanted to remind you that you’ve got enough snap in your vines.”
“Do you believe in wishes? Like there’s someone out there looking out for us?” My words are slow, as my attention is split between the movie running in front of us and Raymond.
His hands move slowly, deliberately, up and down my arms, the friction sending warm little sparks throughout my bloodstream. It’s hypnotizing. Comforting. Dangerous.
He’s silent for a beat, his chin resting on top of my head, his chest a steady wall of warmth against my back. Finally, he nods. “I do. I believe that miracles happen. Me meeting my dad. Quill hopping onto that Ferris wheel and finding you.”
My heart stumbles over itself. Could this man be any more perfect?
“When I was a kid, I believed too. In all fairness, it could also have been a side effect of having Violet as one of my closest friends.” I let out a shaky laugh, trying to shove down the riot of emotions bubbling up inside me. “But as I got older, the idea of wishing on something you can’t see started to feel…stupid.”
His fingers slide down, skimming over my jean-clad thighs, and heat licks at my skin.
“How can anything that makes us stronger be stupid, Willow? Whether it’s praying, wishing, or just believing in miracles.”
It’s not fair —the way he manages to be both poetic and distracting at the same time. His hands move with slow intent, tracing patterns on my thighs before drifting higher, fingertips teasing over the strip of bare skin between my jeans and where my top has ridden up. Just a slight brush, yet maddening .
“Do you believe in soulmates?” he asks, voice low and rough, like he’s testing me.
I can’t breathe. This is dangerous territory. Slippery—no, a full-on landslide into something I should not want with Raymond Teager. But I do want to know what he thinks.
“Like there’s one person for everyone?” My voice is barely steady.
“Uh-huh.”
I swallow, my throat dry. “Do you ?”
There’s a pause. And then his hands still, palms spreading over my waist, thumbs brushing soft, barely there strokes against my ribs. “There are things in life we can’t prove. Things we don’t know if they are real or just stories, and yet, our heart wants to believe them anyway. The same way I’d like to think there’s someone out there meant just for me. Someone who’s loved me in another life, loves me in this one, and will love me in the next.” His voice dips even lower, rumbling against my spine. “Wouldn’t you want that too?”
A sharp pang of longing pierces straight through me, unexpected and unwanted. Because if this were a fairy tale, I know exactly who I’d want my soulmate to be.
But this isn’t a fairy tale.
Raymond and I collided by chance, not destiny. We weren’t written in the stars, and I’m not na?ve enough to believe that we are.
Before I can find words, any words, he squeezes my waist gently.
“Shooting star.” His breath is warm against my ear. “Make a wish, Firefly. Don’t think. Just wish.”
And out of all the things I could wish for, I wish that if soul mates do exist…he’s mine.
“Do you want to know what I wished for?” His voice is a whisper against my skin, and then his arms tighten, big palms settling against my bare stomach.
I can’t think, can’t breathe.
“Raymond—”
“I wish that every year on my daughter’s birthday, you and I will bake a cake for her after we put her to bed,” he says, his voice thick and gravelly. “And unlike this year, you don’t have to show up at my bedroom door pretending to check on the cake when what you really want is for me to make love to you. Over and over again.”
My entire body clenches at his words, but he doesn’t stop.
“I wish that when I’m in the shower, you’re with me,” he continues, and the way he says it, like a promise, has me burning from the inside out. “I’m pounding into you hard, making you forget all your anxieties about how perfect everything will be the next day. After that, I’ll take you to our bedroom and eat you alive until you’re screaming my name. I’ll make sweet love to you before I do you dirty.”
I press my thighs together, heat thrumming low in my belly.
“Then,” he breathes against my ear, dragging his nose along my jaw, “I’ll bring you here, every year, under the stars, where we’ll wish upon a shooting star before I take you again, slow and deep.”
My chest is rising and falling fast, my breaths uneven. I feel like a thousand butterflies have made a home in my belly and flutter to escape at his words.
This version of him, the one so few people get to see, doesn’t belong in this world. He reminds me of some kind of prince or a Greek warrior, the kind who would fight to the death for his woman. The kind who would worship her between the sheets and lay his life at her feet if she asked. He might be ruthless to the world, but he’s also the man who believes in soul mates and miracles. A man who doesn’t just want love—he lives for it.
But who am I ?
I’m the girl who secretly believes in fairy tales but pretends she doesn’t. The girl who just wished on a star that he —this man—could be my soulmate and now I’m terrified to admit it.
But isn’t tonight about being fearless, Wills?
“If the idea of soulmates is real, I’d want you to be mine, Ray.” The words slip from my lips, raw and unfiltered, my heart hammering so loudly I can barely hear my own voice. I’ve never felt this vulnerable, like I’ve ripped my chest open and handed him my still-beating heart, trusting him not to crush it.
Raymond doesn’t hesitate.
In a blink, he turns me, and suddenly I’m straddling him. His hands clamp on to my waist like he’s anchoring himself, like he needs me as much as I need him. A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his throat a split second before his mouth crashes against mine.
It’s desperate. It’s wild. It’s everything .
His hands are all over me, greedy and unrelenting, like he can’t decide which part of me he wants to touch first, and my body responds in kind, pressing into him.
He’s so freaking hard, his cock straining through his pants, twitching beneath me as I shift. A pulse of heat surges through me. I press my palms against his chest, feeling the solid plane of muscle flex beneath my fingers. I want more. I need more.
As if he can read my mind, Ray shrugs off his jacket and pops open two buttons of his shirt. With shaky fingers, I reach for the rest, undoing them one by one before peeling the fabric away. The fairy lights in the gazebo cast soft shadows over the ridges of his abs and the defined lines of his chest, and for a brief second, I forget to breathe.
I swear, this man was carved by the gods.
“My turn now,” he murmurs, voice thick and teasing as his fingers find the hem of my shirt. I don’t stop him, because in this magical night under the shooting stars, I want to witness the full force of this attraction.
He drags the fabric up. When the cool air kisses my bare skin, I squeeze my thighs, and a sharp jolt of pleasure rips through me.
Even though I’m the one on top of him, with his strong arms banding around me, it feels like I’m trapped in a web, one I don’t want to leave. Ray’s hands tighten on my waist, holding me in place as his hooded gaze sweeps over me as if he’s memorizing every curve and every flushed inch of my skin.
He holds my wrists and stretches my hands above us. “Don’t bring them down.” The command is rough, his voice like sandpaper and sin. Then his fingers trace a downward path, grazing my arms before settling on my shoulders.
My black-lace-covered breasts jut out like I’m posing for some sexy photoshoot. But that’s how he’s always made me feel. Sexy. Wanted.
He dips his head, and his lips brush against my neck, sending a delicious shiver racing down my spine. The oral assault starts slow before he picks up the pace, kissing, sucking, nipping at my flesh. Raymond’s tongue moves down to my shoulders, licking the path until he reaches the exposed skin of my breast.
I wait for him to unclasp my bra, take it off, and possibly throw it somewhere without a care.
But—oh, holy hell —he pushes the cups of my bra down in a single fluid motion.
Down. Not off.
I’ve never been more exposed in my life. My nipples harden instantly, and before I can even process the vulnerability, he blows on one, eliciting a strangled moan out of me. His tongue circles one aching peak, slow and deliberate, before closing his lips around it.
He blows, sucks, flicks, bites—moving back and forth between my breasts, dragging me to the edge of sanity. Heat pools between my thighs, and I swear to God, I’m on the verge of combusting. I grind against him, desperate for more friction, more everything.
Ray lifts his head, his gaze dark and hungry as he watches me writhing on top of him. His lips curl into that signature devilish grin.
“It’s once again your choice, Firefly,” he rasps, fingers digging into my waist. “Do you want me to keep making you crazy with my mouth? Or should I take you straight to the finish line and bury myself so deep inside you that you forget where you end and where I start?”
Holy. Freaking. Shit.
I think I have a mini-orgasm just hearing all that.
“I fear if I get any crazier about you, I might permanently damage some part of my brain,” I pant, shamelessly gripping his shoulders. “So yeah, let’s jump straight to the burying part.”
Ray chuckles, low and rough, and suddenly I’m airborne. He stands with me in his arms like I weigh nothing, his grip ironclad, his strength damn near supernatural. My legs lock around his waist, my arms loop around his neck, and I revel in the feel of him—the sheer dominance.
“You don’t know how much I want you right now, Wills,” he murmurs against my temple, his words a heady mix of heat and something deeper. Something dangerous.
I swallow hard. “I don’t know about that,” I whisper. “But I do know that right now, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, Ray.”
His eyes close and he sucks in a deep breath as he puts me down beside one of the gazebo pillars. His grip is firm as he turns me around. The lake stretches ahead of us, vast and silent. I realize that even though we’re in a secluded area, we aren’t exactly hiding. As if the same thought crosses Raymond’s mind, his hand dips into his pocket, and a second later, the fairy lights strung around us go dark.
“I’ll never put you in an unsafe or uncomfortable position, Firefly,” Raymond murmurs, his lips ghosting over the back of my shoulder. “But right now, I want your eyes ahead.”
A shudder rolls down my spine as he kneels behind me, his hands skimming down my sides, palms hot and possessive as they map the curves of my hips.
A gasp rips from my throat when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the small of my back, his tongue sweeping over my skin before he nips, just enough to send a delicious jolt throughout my nerves. His lips trail lower, his teeth scraping my hip, his fingers gripping my thighs in a way that tells me he’s barely keeping himself in check.
“Ray—”
Whatever I was about to say vanishes the moment he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my jeans and panties and drags them down in one smooth motion. They catch around my knees, trapping me in place. Exposed. Vulnerable.
A sharp, wicked bite to my ass makes me yelp. This man seems to be on a mission to brand me with his touch.
I’m still getting used to the feel of hands running up and down the backs of my thighs, massaging me, nipping me, when he turns me around and his mouth is right there. On my sex.
He eats me like I’m a million-dollar buffet. Without words, he spreads my legs as far as my tangled clothing will allow and opens the lips of my sex with his fingers and blows his hot breath on it. My body lurches forward, my hands flying to brace against the wooden pillar. His tongue is hot and devastating, lapping against my sex, teasing and flicking and—Jesus Christ—when he groans against me, the vibrations ripple throughout my entire body. My knees nearly buckle.
How did I not know sex could be like this?
But it’s not just sex. It’s him —Raymond Teager. The man doesn’t do anything halfway.
Be it as a businessman or a dad, and right now…as a lover.
He’s feasting on me with intent, and I come so hard this time that when I see stars, they’re not in the sky—they’re exploding behind my eyelids.
I’m still catching my breath when I hear him rise to his feet. Then my hand is in his, and he’s pressing my palm to the waistband of his pants.
“Undress me, baby.”
Something in my chest clenches tight at the raw yearning in his tone. He wants me, and not just physically.
With trembling fingers, I unbuckle his belt, pop the button, and slide the zipper down. I reach inside and caress him through the soft fabric of his boxers. When I look up, Raymond is staring at me with hooded eyes. I tighten my grip on him, squeeze him once before moving my hand up and down his length, and his entire body jerks.
“Fuck, Wills,” he grits out and something shifts in me.
I need to give him the same pleasure he gave me. I need to hear him come undone the way he wrecked me.
Dropping to my knees, I look up at him through my lashes, and his eyes darken. “Willow, you don’t have to?—”
“I know I said I’ve never done it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
His nostrils flare, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a heavy swallow. He looks down at me with a mix of adoration and heat.
I sit there on my knees, almost naked, my breasts on display, my sex bare. Yet with the way he looks at me, I feel the most powerful and desirable I’ve ever felt.
“Are you saying no to me?” I rasp, wrapping my fingers tighter around his length, stroking him once, then twice.
Raymond groans. His hands twitch at his sides before he fists them in my hair, gathering the strands at the nape of my neck. “I can never say no to anything when it comes to you.”
His words do something reckless to my insides. “Then show me how to do it right.”
His gaze turns molten. “Take me out.”
I obey, tugging down his boxers, freeing his cock. My lips part, ready to take him in, but his deep, commanding voice stops me.
“Not so fast, baby.” His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, his other hand cupping my jaw. “Kiss the tip first.”
I press a kiss to the swollen head.
“Now kiss the length of it,” he murmurs. “Love it like you know this is the only cock you’ll ever see for the rest of your life. The only one responsible for all your sleepless nights. The only one that’s gonna leave you sore in the best fucking way.”
A whimper escapes me. My core clenches hard. I close my eyes, absorbing his words, feeling them in my soul, before I drag my tongue down his shaft.
Ray hisses between his teeth. “Fuck. Who knew you liked dirty talk, Firefly? Now take me in your mouth.”
His grip in my hair tightens as I wrap my lips around him. My tongue flicks against the head, teasing, tasting. I push deeper, inch by inch, until he’s groaning above me, his hand flexing in my hair, but then my gag reflex kicks in.
“Shit, baby. You don’t have to take it all in,” he pants. “It already feels so good. Just take as much as you can and hold the rest with your hands.”
I breathe through my nose and do as I’m told. I swirl my tongue over the head and suck it back into my mouth.
He moans, looking down at me. “Fuck. That feels so good. Keep doing that, baby. Just like that.”
I follow his every command, my mouth and hands working in tandem, pulling him to the edge. His muscles lock up, his breathing ragged, and I feel him pulsing on my tongue.
“I’m not going to last, Wills,” he warns, voice breaking. “Decide if you want me in your mouth or— fuck ?—”
But letting him go is the last thing on my mind. I want to experience the full force of Raymond.
When I keep him in my mouth, he groans loudly. “Don’t swallow immediately. I want to see,” he whispers.
He wants to see?
“Willow…fuck.”
That’s all the warning Ray gives me before he thrusts his pelvis and his cum spurts in my mouth, hot, thick, and salty. I didn’t know what to expect, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for the amount of it.
“Don’t swallow,” he whispers again and I’m stunned in place. When he finally softens in my mouth, he murmurs, “Open.”
I show him my mouth filled with his release. I’m shivering with pleasure and anticipation, waiting for his next instruction.
“Swallow.”
I gulp as Raymond stares down at me, gaze hooded, his expression a mix of awe and possession. I know even though I’ll never forget a single moment spent with this man, this version of him will be plastered in a secret corner of my mind.
He’s the first one to break eye contact as he walks to the table and picks up his glass of untouched cider. “Take a sip.” He lifts it to my lips.
I obey, swallowing the cool liquid as he watches me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. Then, in a carefree pace, he tucks himself back into his pants, buttons them up, and pulls me to my feet. His hands slide up my waist and settle on my hips.
“You were amazing,” he murmurs at the same time I say, “That was amazing.”
His grin is slow, cocky, and devastating. “I’m glad you liked it, because fuck, you ruined me, Wills.”
“Good.” My lips curl wide as something warm and light blooms in my chest.
He kneels, dragging my jeans and panties back up my legs, then pressing a soft kiss to my hip before buttoning them into place. I readjust my bra and slip my arms into my T-shirt as he holds it out for me.
I know it’s a risky move when I move his fingers away and start buttoning up his shirt. Doing something in the heat of the moment is one thing, but doing this, something as simple as helping him with his clothes, is more dangerous.
His eyes burn into mine. “I don’t want to leave,” he admits gruffly, hands sliding to cup my face. “But we need sleep so that we’re one hundred percent there for our bug’s big day.”
I nod, smiling. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
Raymond kisses me once, slow and deep. “Me neither.”
When we pull up to the house, my mind is still spinning, my body still humming from everything that happened under the stars. Every nerve ending feels hyperaware, stretched thin between exhaustion and delirium. I step out of the car, fully intending to head to my bedroom and put some distance between me and the man standing beside me. But before I can take another step, Raymond’s hand wraps around mine.
“Sleep with me tonight,” he whispers and every part of me locks up.
My chest tightens as my heartbeat thunders in my ears. “Ray, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
We’ve already crossed so many lines, blurred the edges of this arrangement beyond recognition.
His grip tightens slightly, his thumb brushing against the inside of my wrist. “It’s sleep, Wills. I promise I won’t take advantage of you.” His lips curve into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and that’s when I see what he’s really asking.
It’s not sex. It’s not even an attempt to cross more lines. He just doesn’t want this night to end, exactly like me. I nod and relief flashes on his face. Without another word, he leads me straight to his bedroom.
I step inside, my eyes scanning the space, expecting…I don’t know what. Maybe something that screams bachelor, something sleek and impersonal. But that’s not what greets me. The walls of his room are painted in soft, muted blue. The furniture is dark but balanced by white bedding, plush upholstery, and warm light. It’s cozy and lived-in.
There’s a small sitting area by the window that catches my attention—a pastel green couch and a table stacked with books. I walk over and glance at the covers.
Being a Single Dad to a Princess.
Parenting an Anxious Child.
“You’re an amazing dad, Ray. Quill is so lucky to have you.”
He watches me for a moment before reaching for my hand and guiding me toward the bed. “I try my best,” he murmurs.
Raymond perches on the edge, and before I know it, I’m standing between his legs, his hands running up and down my arms in slow, steady strokes.
“Was tonight okay for you?” His gaze searches mine, warm but serious. “Just so you know, I didn’t have that in mind when I took you out. I wanted to take you somewhere peaceful, closer to nature, the kind of place I thought you would like.”
“I know. And I’m glad everything happened the way it did. It was…” I exhale, shaking my head, unable to find the words. “Wow.”
His lips quirk, full of that maddening self-assured confidence that has the power to steal my breath away. “That good, huh?”
“That good,” I confirm.
Something shifts in the air between us—thicker, deeper, like we’re teetering on the edge of something neither of us knows how to name.
I swallow. “Can I ask you something?”
Raymond nods, his hands still moving along my arms.
“Why did you ask me about soulmates?” My fragile voice just barely makes it past my lips.
“It’s something Rowan asked me today. If I believed we can find the person meant just for us, our soulmate.”
“Really? I didn’t know guys talked about stuff like that.”
“Most guys don’t. But that’s Ro for you. He’s never been a usual guy.” Raymond’s hands tighten slightly on my waist. “Now get in bed, Firefly. It’s late.”
I arch a brow. “And by get in bed , you mean just sleep , right?”
He smirks, leaning in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I knew I’d eventually become irresistible to you, Miss Pershing.”
I shove at his chest, laughing despite myself. “You’re impossible.”
He smiles, tugging me down into bed beside him and wrapping his arms around me like it’s second nature, like this is exactly where I belong.