Chapter 37 Sloane
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Sloane
The night’s been a whirlwind of shots, laughs, and madness.
It’s the kind of night that feels like it’s spiraling out of control, but in the best way possible. The type of night I know I’ll remember for all the right reasons.
I’ve lost count of how many drinks I’ve had, but I’m definitely feeling the buzz.
Lola is still going strong. I can barely keep up with her energy as she leads us down the street, still carrying the wild confidence she had earlier in the night.
Roman’s walking beside me, his arm casually slung around my shoulders, his smile as easy and mischievous as ever. Ezra’s a few steps behind, still the quiet one, but even he’s got a little more pep in his step tonight, smiling more than I’ve seen in ages.
And then there’s Creed, falling in line just behind us, his pace steady, taking everything in without saying a word.
Lola’s rambling about some insane idea she has for a new band promo, her voice rising in excitement, completely oblivious to the fact that half the block is probably hearing her.
“I’m telling you, we could do a whole photo shoot with glitter cannons.
Just imagine a glowing like a disco ball. Iconic.”
Roman’s laughing, eyes twinkling. “And here I thought I was the only one who could pull off the whole ‘chaotic genius’ thing.”
I raise an eyebrow, playing along. “I’m pretty sure Lola has you beat there, buddy.”
Lola looks over her shoulder, her grin sharp and wide. “Damn right, I do.”
I throw my head back in a laugh, the tipsy buzz in my system making everything feel a little bit lighter.
We finally reach Lola’s hotel, the building looming ahead of us. It’s not the flashiest place, but it’s cozy in that way that only a hotel in the middle of a busy city can be. She spins on her heel, giving us a mock salute as she pulls open the door to the lobby.
“I’m telling you,” she says, her grin wide, “if I’m hungover on my flight back to college in the morning, I’m suing you, Wild Reverie!”
Roman laughs and shakes his head. “Never change, Lola Vaughn.”
With that, Lola heads inside, her laughter echoing behind her as she disappears into the lobby.
We linger for a moment outside, the cold feeling sharp against my skin, but I don’t mind it. I’m still floating from the night, my steps light as we start to walk back down the street toward the hotel where our suite is waiting.
“You good?” Roman murmurs.
I glance up at him, fighting the smirk that wants to spread across my face. “Yeah. You?”
He leans in just a little, his breath warm against my neck. “Could be better. Maybe you could help with that.”
I swallow, heart racing. There’s that mischievous glint in his eyes, but it’s layered with something else.
Before I can think about it too much, his hand slides from my waist to my back, pulling me closer. The motion is smooth; he’s always known exactly how far to push. I can feel the heat of his body against mine, the tension, the need that simmers just below the surface.
My heart pounds as we reach the elevator, and as the doors slide shut behind us, the space feels instantly smaller. The air is charged with a kind of heat that’s impossible to ignore. It’s almost suffocating in the best way.
Roman’s hand still rests at my back, guiding me in, but now his fingers dig deeper, pulling me closer to him, and there’s a new urgency in the way he moves. His touch is possessive, marking his territory in ways he doesn’t even need to say.
I turn to face him, and before I can process the wave of desire crashing over me, his lips are on my neck. He kisses me just below my ear, a soft, heated press that sends a jolt of fire straight through me.
“I’ve wanted this all night, Sloane,” he whispers so low, it vibrates through me.
It’s a confession, but it feels more like a promise.
My breath catches, sharp and sudden, and before I can fully register the way my pulse quickens, he’s kissing me. Hard, deep, hungry, and needy. His hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers curling to pull me closer, his mouth ravaging mine, making my head spin.
The space around us disappears, and it’s just him, his lips, the heat between us, building with each second.
I’m not sure when Ezra moved closer, but now his presence is undeniable. He’s standing just behind me, so close I can feel the heat of his body radiating against my back. His hand brushes mine, just the lightest touch, but it’s enough to make my skin burn.
I can feel his fingers lingering before he pulls away, watching us with a gaze that sees straight through me.
His eyes are dark, hungry in their own way, but there’s something else too. He doesn’t say a word, but his presence is magnetic.
And then Creed, standing just behind Ezra, his posture rigid but controlled, is a storm waiting to break. His eyes are fixed on me, no hiding it now, no pretending. There’s something almost dangerous in the way he looks at me, as if he’s studying every move, every breath.
His jaw is tight, and the tension in his gaze could snap at any moment. He’s not speaking, but I can feel his desire radiating off him, low and simmering like a slow burn.
The elevator ride seems to stretch out for eternity, but finally, the soft chime of the door opening breaks through the haze. Roman pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his lips curling into a wicked grin, but there’s something darker there now.
His fingers trail down my side, and I can feel his gaze on my mouth. He wants more, and I can tell he knows I do too.
He steps out first, his hand still firm at my waist, guiding me out, but he’s not in a rush. The way he moves, so sure, so powerful, sends a shiver through me. Ezra and Creed follow quietly behind, but neither of them speaks.
The tension is damn near overwhelming, but I don’t want to rush it either. I want to savor it.
Not that I can, because as soon as the door clicks locked behind us, the wildfire spreads.
Roman guides me down onto the couch, settling me gently into his lap. His fingers are already at my coat buttons, peeling away wool and silk in a flash.
Ezra grips the hem of my dress and pulls it off me, too. But I don’t have time to shiver, even with goosebumps popping along my skin, because the heat of Ezra’s palm trails flames across my shoulder blade.
Creed kneels at my feet, his jacket discarded beside him. He leans forward, his breath warm against my calf as he tugs at my boots. His knuckles graze my skin, each brush sending a shudder of anticipation racing through me.
I still can’t quite believe I am the one who gets to go home with Wild Reverie. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.
Behind me, Ezra’s large hands press into my shoulders, kneading slow, circular strokes that have my spine arching of its own accord. My head falls back against his chest, a moan escaping my lips before I can swallow it down.
“What do you want tonight?” Ezra murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “We’re all yours.”
I groan, loving the sound of that. “I just need you all. I need to feel you all.”
Roman’s hands slide to my hips, pulling me flush against him. At the same moment, Ezra’s lips trail a rough line down my jaw, while Creed’s fingers slip beneath my underwear, peeling them downward in one smooth motion.
I tilt my head back, the couch creaking beneath us, as I grant them permission. Creed’s mouth hovers over the place where I burn for him. Each gentle kiss climbs my body, making my stomach clench tighter until his lips finally brush the center of me.
A gasp tears free, and I tangle my fingers in his hair as he draws me in.
He groans, the vibration rolling through me like thunder. My back arches, legs tremble, hips pressing insistently into his mouth.
Ezra’s hands travel up my sides, his thumbs circling the peaks of my breasts through the thin fabric of my lacy bra, sending sparks across my skin. Roman’s tongue traces lazy patterns over my stomach before flicking over the swell of my breast, his lips warm and wet against my skin.
“You should see yourself,” Roman murmurs. “So damn needy. So perfect.”
A moan spills out of me, raw and uninhibited. Creed doesn’t relent. His tongue works with a quick, precise rhythm that leaves me trembling on the edge of oblivion. My thighs quiver, hips rocking, every nerve aflame with need.
“You taste so fucking good,” Creed growls against me, his words a rumble against my core.
I barely register Ezra’s mouth against my jaw or Roman’s hands slipping lower as Creed’s tongue drives me higher. Until he slows, the feather-light strokes making me whimper, my body aching for more.
“Hey, Sloane,” Roman purrs playfully, “We’ve got all night. No rush, right?”
I close my eyes, breath coming in ragged, bliss-drenched gasps, and let the promise of hours ahead wash over me.
But I’m not about to let him off that easily. A slow grin curls at the corners of my mouth as I sink to my knees before Roman.
If he wants to tease, then so will I.
I reach up and grip the waistband of his trousers, tugging them and his boxers down in one smooth motion. The fabric bunches at his calves, sending a hiss past his lips the moment cold night air brushes over his skin.
Quickly, I replace that chill with the heat of my breath. I hover, lips just grazing the curve of him, and exhale in a warm gust that travels the whole length of his shaft. I hold there, and don’t rush it. Don’t give in to what I know he wants.
Roman’s fingers curl into my hair, not yanking or guiding but anchoring himself, as if he needs something to cling to while I unravel him.
“Sloane…” he warns.
I smirk, lean closer, and on the next inhale, let my lips brush over the tip before pulling away. Then, I trace my tongue lightly along the sensitive ridge at the base, following an invisible line upwards, rewarding myself with the way his thighs tense against the couch and his jaw clenches.