7. Payton
Payton
The moment August pulls back, my breath catches. His hands fist in the hem of his shirt, and with one sharp motion, he yanks it off. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him—all carved muscle and sun-kissed skin, his chest heaving like he’s been running.
Then his hands drop to his waistband, and my pulse stutters.
He doesn’t hesitate. Just shoves his boxers and shorts down in one rough push, and—oh my—there he is. Thick, hard, and already glistening at the tip. My stomach clenches as I watch him stroke himself, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on mine like he’s memorizing every flicker of my reaction.
“Never had a reason to own a condom before,” he admits, voice gravel-rough. His thumb swipes over the head, and my thighs press together instinctively. “So I get it if you wanna wait.”
The intensity in his gaze steals the air from my lungs, and the heat between us doesn’t even flicker.
“But I’m serious about keeping you, Payton. Hell—I’ll sign a certificate the second I can get my hands on one if that’s what it takes to make you believe me.”
A shiver races down my spine.
This man. This wild, reckless, all-in man.
I’m very much the same. I don’t want to wait either.
Parting my thighs once more, my pussy continues to tingle from the aftermath of my orgasm.
“Make me yours.” Whispering the words, he makes my heart skip with another cheeky grin. “Be my first, and my last.”
That’s all I need to say before he’s moving to hover over my body. His fingers thread through mine, pinning them beside my head as he nudges at my entrance, making sure to gather my juices along the way..
“So soft,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along my jaw. “So fucking wet for me.”
I gasp as he pushes in—just the barest stretch, just enough to make my nails bite into his hand. He stills, his breath ragged against my throat. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
But it’s perfect. The slow, aching fullness as he works deeper, inch by inch, until my thighs tremble around his hips.
“Look at me,” he rasps, desperate for our eyes to meet.
When I do, he bottoms out, and our mingled moans fill the air. His forehead drops to mine, his hips flush against me, and for a heartbeat, we’re both perfectly, painfully still. He waits for my tight grip to loosen. When it does, he finally moves again.
The mattress groans beneath us, each creak a rough counterpoint to the slick, desperate sounds of our bodies moving together. His thrusts start slow—agonizingly slow—but the moment another moan pushes past my lips, he takes that like a green light.
The rhythm fractures, and his hips snap forward, leaving us both growing louder.
Wood protests beneath us as he drives into me harder, faster, his grunts hot against my lips. His kiss is messy now, all teeth and shared breath, like he’s trying to consume me whole. One of his hands tears away from mine, sliding down to grip my hip, lifting me just enough to angle himself deeper—
Oh my God.
Pleasure crashes over me like a riptide, violent and inevitable. I choke on his name, my thighs clamping around him as if I could keep him there forever.
“Look at me,” he rasps, raw and demanding. He doesn’t stop. Like he’s ready to go for days, his hips don’t stutter. He hits the right spot over and over, making my vision blurry.
I know I’ve just come, but is it crazy that I can already feel it cresting over again?
It has to be possible. It’s happening.
Like he already knows all the secrets to my body, the way I grip around him, he can tell. It’s why he lifts me higher, burying himself deeper. Coaxing me toward another orgasm, I’m left filling the room with a throat-aching cry.
A shattered sound tears from his throat as he buries himself to the hilt, his body locking over mine like he’s trying to fuse us together.
Then the heat comes.
A thick, pulsing wave of him, flooding me in relentless bursts. His groan is broken as his hips grind down in rough, circular strokes, milking every last drop into me. His forehead drops to my shoulder, his breath scalding against my damp skin.
I feel everything. The way his muscles tremble. The possessive clutch of his fingers on my hips. The hot, slick slide of him still moving inside me, like he can’t bear to stop.
There’s no doubt how sore I’m going to be in the morning, but it was completely worth it.
He lifts his weight off me slowly, carefully, like I might break. And then he’s just… staring. Those blue eyes sweep over my face, my body, lingering where we’re still connected like he can’t believe it’s real.
I let out a breathless laugh, my limbs heavy and spent.
“I’m in one piece,” I murmur, reaching up to brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “Mostly.”
His throat works as he hesitates, his hips shifting like he’s debating pulling out.
“August,” I huff, swatting weakly at his shoulder. “There is no way I can do any more. I might actually die.”
A rough chuckle escapes him as he finally pulls away, both of us groaning at the loss. But his hands don’t leave me. They slide down to my hips, kneading the soreness with a gentleness that feels at odds with the man who just wrecked me.
“Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh. “Got carried away.”
Another kiss, higher this time. It’s like he can’t help himself anymore.
“You were—” His voice cracks. “That was…”
“Amazing?” I supply, grinning when he lifts his head to meet my gaze.
“You’re amazing,” he finishes, dragging himself up to collapse beside me. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me against his chest like he’s not ready to let go.
He’ll need to eventually. We both smell of sex and sweat. The sheets will need to be changed. The longer we wait, the more we risk my passing out on him.
Seeing as he’s in no rush to release me, I’m willing to bet he’s banking on just that happening.
* * *
It’s not the soft sounds of birds chirping or the rustle of wildlife happening outside that wakes us up, but it’s the heavy thump of a knock that’s bringing me to.
Realizing that I’m tucked in August’s arms, surrounded by warmth that feels too good and real to be a continuation of my dream.
We groan at the same time, and unlike me, who wants to fall back asleep and pretend the thumping is nothing but a figment of our imagination, he peels himself away.
Tired, raspy curses leave him as he shuffles his way out, disappearing.
Yawning, I reach for his pillow and shove it to my chest. Breathing him in, I close my eyes and almost drift back to sleep.
August returns with more of a rush than what he’d left with. He’s making the comfortable blanket disappear, urging me to get up.
“Someone’s at the door asking for you. Need to show you’re alive and kicking.
” He finds the shirt he let me borrow the night before and throws it over my shoulders.
By the time I’m reaching for the buttons, he’s already got three of them fastened.
“Guess they found your car. Said you left it unlocked? They found your wallet, too.”
Pursing my lips, I try to recall if I slipped up. Squinting at him, I grimace, and he sighs in return.
Moving to stand, he doesn’t let me stroll out in just his shirt. He insists I put on a pair of his shorts, too. Thanks to a knot around my waist, they rest securely on my hips.
Following behind, my stomach tightens at the thought of what is waiting on the other side of the door.
Finding a cop standing on the porch, I quickly realize he’s holding my wallet. It’s almost amusing to see a bulky cop cradling my small, pink wallet.
He takes notice of me, straightening up. Assuming he’s taken a look at my ID, he almost seems relieved to see me.
Better to be in a cabin instead of being lost in the wrath of the aftermath of the storm.
“I’m Officer Williams, ma’am.” He tips his hat and glances at August. Probably notices that he’s lingering close.
It shouldn’t make my heart flutter at the possessiveness radiating off of him, but it does.
The man comments on finding my car, mentioning the flat. After trying to explain to him what happened, I yawn, and August takes this as a sign to move this along.
“Atlas.” He sighs, using the officer’s first name like they’re familiar with each other. “I was going to help her change out the tire once the weather cleared up. Storm kept us up late, that’s all. We’ll get it up to my place first thing.”
Heat forms on the back of my neck at the lie, but I don’t jump in to correct him.
Atlas puts his attention back on me and the underlying worry that comes with being someone in his position.
“You’re sure you don’t need me to take you somewhere?” He offers a smile, one that’s reassuring. “We’re giving rides left and right. We don’t mind if you need to get out of his hair.”
Blinking, I realize what he’s asking me. Like he’s double-checking that I don’t want to leave, I grow even more confident that there is no place I’d rather be.
Glancing next to me, I take in the way August is staring at the ground. It’s the same way he looked at me the first time he opened the door. Grumpy and bothered.
Returning my gaze, he stirs like he’s nervous, like he expects me to disappear with the officer. So soon, I can see him struggling with his trust issues, as whatever has hurt him in the past still lingers.
Reaching for his hand, I squeeze his fingers. Smiling at him, I look back at Atlas. “I’m right where I’m meant to be.”
While the officer looks between us, he soon nods and tilts his hat to us. Asking us to take care of the flat, he bids us a good afternoon.
Once we’re alone, August doesn’t give me time to suggest handling the problem. Instead, he pulls me against his chest, kissing me like it’s the first time all over again—desperate, dizzying, as if we’re discovering each other anew.
When he finally breaks away, leaving me breathless, his hands cradle my face with unbearable tenderness. His gaze holds mine, so full of love that the small, crooked smile on his lips is impossible to resist.
It’s wild when I think about it. I entrusted my heart to Cupid’s Bloom Co., hoping only for a man who’d want me longer than a weekend. But August? He stole my heart in a single day and gave me more love than I ever dared to ask for.