Chapter 23
TILLY
I’m lost. Utterly and completely gone for the man who still hasn’t released me. The same one whose lips taste like missed opportunities and wasted time.
The burn at my scalp fades when he kisses me back, slamming his mouth against mine like he’s as angry as he sounded a breath ago. Warm and just rough enough to intensify the throb between my legs, his lips slide across mine before parting.
I claw his shoulder and bring him closer, letting myself be greedy with him the way I’ve wanted since I was a teenager.
Back then, he was just beginning to grow into himself, still stumbling a bit over the choices he was making.
The version of himself holding me with huge, strong hands right now is the same, but different.
I think he always thought too hard when it came to me, but after all the years we’ve been apart, it’s easier to push him where I want him.
Like maybe I wasn’t as alone in what I was feeling as I’d convinced myself I was.
He blows a breath into my mouth before burying his face in my neck. Teeth tease the goose-bumped skin there before digging in just enough to make me cry out. Pleasure blooms from my belly up to where my throat must be darkening with a mark.
“When did you leave him?”
“Rowe . . .” I swallow heavily and roll my head to the side, making it easier for him to kiss my neck. His lips are stuck in one place despite my movements. “Don’t talk about him right now.”
The way he nips beneath my jaw is rough, angry. “Tell me.”
“Months ago.”
He licks the sting from his teeth and sucks softly. “Why?”
“Why what?”
I slide my hand up to his dark hair and scrape my nails over it. It’s impossible to pull it the same way he’s been handling mine, so I make do. His eyes are dark with possession when they meet mine. I’m as confused as I am enthralled.
“What did he do to have you coming back here?” Each word is punched out.
I shake my head, pushing myself up his body until, for once, I have to look down to maintain eye contact. His steady grip on me doesn’t waver, not for a second.
“I don’t want to talk about Ethan. Not right now,” I murmur, dropping my forehead to his.
Water drips from my hair down my neck and chest. His jaw rolls as he watches the droplets slip down my skin and splatter against his.
My chest is exposed as I cling to his body, keeping my top half from sinking back beneath the lake.
It’s almost too much when he shifts his focus to where my boobs spill over the lace cups of my bra.
The two piercings I got after the separation are impossible to miss in this position.
The rough noise that crawls up his throat tells me he approves.
Lowering my voice, I urge, “Just kiss me again.”
His hand digs angrily into my ass before disappearing. My hair cascades down my back, and suddenly, I’m gasping as the cold water hits my collarbones. Rowe’s moving away from me. The shock of having to stand on my own is too much, and I wobble, toes curling in the thick sand beneath us.
“What the fuck?” I snap, splashing a hand through the water.
Rowe’s walking back to shore, his wide shoulders straight, wet muscles rippling. There’s no chance of me catching up to him before he gets there, but I still try. I push through the water, clenching my teeth so they don’t start chattering.
“You can’t kiss me like that and then take off because you don’t like something I’ve said!” I shout.
He doesn’t look back at me. His feet hit the rocky sand at the shore, and then he’s reaching for his shirt, hastily working the sleeves up his arms. I get close enough to watch the dark fabric grow damp from his skin.
The rocks are uncomfortable as I stomp over them, but I’m too focused on Rowe to pay them much attention.
The fingers that were just in my hair pinch his shirt as he starts to button it.
He doesn’t make it past the first one before I’m grabbing his hands and bringing them back where I want them.
They glide over my head, and I press them deeper in the strands, tangling them in place.
His mouth is flat, his scowl obvious despite the way he’s not letting go of my hair once I drop my hands.
“If you want to punish me for getting married, then explain to me why,” I demand, my voice breathy in a way that has nothing to do with how fast I raced out of the water. “Why did it matter to you? Why are you so fucking pissed at me for it?”
His nostrils blow wide. “I don’t know.”
“That’s a cop-out.”
“It’s not. I don’t fucking know why it made me so mad. It shouldn’t have upset me as badly as it did. You didn’t tell me, and that hurt, but it should have worn off by now,” he snaps.
“Yes, it should have. But it hasn’t.”
The muscles beside his eyes twitch, and I move without thinking. The tiny rocks along the beach cut into my knees when I fall onto them and crane my head back, staring up at him. A sharp exhale slips from his mouth, and he flexes his fingers in my hair.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Don’t play with me,” he warns, voice dipping into a growl.
It’s far too enthralling being on my knees in front of him right now, with his work shirt soaked and moulding to the thick ridges of his biceps as he holds me and the singular button keeping it from falling completely open.
Abs glisten in the shadows of the fabric, and his briefs are soaking wet, acting more like a second skin.
I reach out and press a hand to his hip, my eyes latching onto the bulge in his underwear. He’s hard inside them. Rigid, long, and fucking pulsing. I release a breath and curl my fingers into the waistband, pulling it back just enough for the tip to pop out.
“You had so many questions, Rowe. Where are they now?” I murmur, wetting my lips.
“Is this how you want to earn my forgiveness, hellcat? With your lips around my cock?”
I hum, guiding his briefs down another inch. My pussy flutters, the cold fabric pressed against it not seeming to matter anymore. I’m too hot to feel it.
“I don’t need your forgiveness. My decision to get married wasn’t about you.”
He tugs at my hair, and I laugh, leaning into his hold. “So what is this, then?”
“This is me being tired of pretending that I don’t want you. I’ve wondered what you taste like for the last seventeen years.”
It feels eerily personal saying that out loud, especially to him. Maybe that’s why I’m doing it right now, when he doesn’t have a chance to tell me to take it back.
I yank his underwear to his knees and grip his shaft.
His groan tears through the night, hiding my small whimper of need that I can’t trap.
The heat of him in my palm is electrifying, and fuck—the giant vein running along the underside of his shaft is scorching hot.
He’s already leaking precum, and I tease him with the pad of my thumb, smearing it.
“Tilly. I haven’t—”
My interest flares at the desperation in his tone. I give him a long, tight stroke and gaze upward. “Haven’t what?”
“Haven’t had a mouth around me. Not for a long goddamn time.”
“Good.”
I drag my tongue over his tip, and his taste hits my tongue instantly.
Letting my eyes fall shut, I lean forward on my knees and suck around his shaft, trying to remember how to do this.
If he knew that I was just as out of practice as he was, I’d lose my advantage.
I like him being at my mercy too much to let it go yet.
“Oh shit,” he grits out, his fingers spasming in my hair. “Go slow. Fuck! Slow—”
Annoyed with his demands, I do the opposite. I tighten my hold on the lower half of his cock and fit more of him between my lips. It’s a tight fit, and I’ve always had the worst gag reflex. I make the most of what I can take and roll my tongue around him.
He yanks on me harder, and white spots flicker behind my eyelids. My moan is instant, low and greedy. It vibrates down the endless inches of him, and his hips jerk forward. His tip slides too deep, and I gag, tears clinging to my lashes.
There’s no need for him to ask me if I’m okay because I don’t pull off. The last thing I want is for him to handle me with kid gloves. Tears and spit don’t scare me.
I press a hand against his hip and glide it behind him.
With my fingers digging into his ass cheek, I shift closer, encouraging him to move.
He hesitates, refusing to thrust a second time.
I open my eyes and let him see how badly I want him to.
If I trusted myself not to take things too far, I’d put a hand between my legs to show him just how much I’m enjoying this. How unafraid I am.
“You can’t use this against me later,” he warns, opening his hands wide enough that he can hold both sides of my head with absolute control. The slight scratch of his nails against my scalp draws another pleading noise out of me. “I won’t hurt you.”
I already knew that.
He thrusts forward, forcing me to take more of him than I have been.
It’s not enough to make me retch, but I do battle another gag.
My fingers tremble where they’re gripping him, stroking his slick shaft in time with my mouth.
Drool leaks down my chin from where my mouth’s stretched around him.
I’m running hot, sweat collecting at the base of my spine.
“That’s it. So fucking messy for me,” he grunts, falling into a steady pace.
I inhale through my nose and nod. His ass tenses beneath my touch. My core is stuck to my panties, the fabric drenched and feeling too tight against me. I want them off almost as I want to feel him coming undone.
The noise that comes from my mouth doesn’t sound like me at all.
It’s almost a whimper, a sound so high-pitched and pleading that I have no choice but to realize just how far gone I am right now.
There’s no hope in reminding myself of anything that’s happened between us in the past. Those things don’t matter, not when he’s started to move faster, his thrusts stuttering.
“Open wider, hellcat. I’m gonna wash your mouth out. You’ll take it all for me. You’ll swallow my cum and remember how I taste the next time you think about saying his name when my hands are on you.”
My eyes blow wide at the words. He jerks in my mouth, and I feel the first rope of cum splash my throat. I suck on instinct, and he pushes further inside, groaning and hissing. Swallowing, I prick his ass with my nails and squeeze my eyes shut.
With the ghost of a sigh, I drop my hands and slowly pull off him. My scalp burns, a soreness there that I didn’t feel minutes ago. It’s nothing compared to the pain in my knees. I wince, trying to stand to get off them.
Blood rushes to my head. My vision grows fuzzy for a beat before I blink through it and find a new warmth around my elbow. A tattooed hand is clutching onto me, and I look at Rowe, trying to hide my blush.
“That was reckless,” he chastises, his eyes closed off again.
“Don’t start.”
His exhale is weighted. I try to pick at the walls he’s shoved up between us, but they’re too thick. What just happened between us was a lot for me, but maybe it was more complicated for him.
“I wasn’t going to. But you’re hurt,” he says, softening his voice slightly.
“It’s not your fault. This was all my decision.”
“At least put your boots on before we go back to the truck. I’ve got a first aid kit in the back seat.”
It’s impossible not to tease him in hopes of lightening the mood. “Who knew one blowjob would have been enough to have you offering to fix up my wounds.”
“It has nothing to do with that.”
The way he says it is so . . . firm. Like just the thought of me putting those two things together offends him. My lips twitch, confirming my thoughts. Without arguing, I grab my boot from the ground and yank it on.