Chapter 35
Teddy
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew something was happening. I was hot and breathless, and… oh my god. My back arched as I chased that feeling, right there, right on the edge of it.
Then my eyes flew open, and the solid weight of his shoulders was heavy between my legs.
That tongue—Sparks ripped through me like live wires, bright and uncontrollable, and I was already coming.
My body shook as it spilled through me, all the way down to my toes.
I gasped his name, hands clutching at whatever I could reach, trying to hold myself together as the feeling rolled on longer than I expected.
When it finally eased, I was left boneless and buzzing, chest rising too fast, skin hypersensitive everywhere. I blinked up at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe.
A warmth lingered between my legs, a reminder of what he’d just done to me, and I laughed because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this unraveled.
The room was washed in that early light that made everything feel hazy.
I was aware of the sheets tangled around us, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the way my body responded, even though my mind slow and heavy with sensation, but it didn’t feel completely real.
I was still catching my breath when he moved.
The shift of the mattress, the heat of him leaving, and then the cool rush of him returning as he slid up behind me.
His chest pressed into my back, one arm came around my waist, his hand settling low on my stomach.
His mouth brushed my shoulder, teeth grazing my skin, my neck.
The delicious memory of him marking me last night shivered over my heated skin.
I let my head tip back against him, my body still buzzing, still open for him.
He breathed me in, slow and deep, and the way he held me felt just as intense as what he’d just done to me.
“I need you so feckin’ bad, sunshine,” he whispered against the back of my neck.
His hard cock waited at my back, so I moved closer, and he slid inside me in one movement. “Yes,” I hissed, relishing the fullness.
I was in a haze, soft around the edges as he moved slowly, kissing me, fucking me. My eyelids fluttered as he pulled my leg up higher, hitting me right where I needed him. That damn piercing would be the death of me.
The pace never picked up. He stayed unhurried, dragging his piercing against my sensitive spot, like there was nowhere else to be, like the morning belonged to us and nothing was going to interrupt it.
I reached back for him without thinking, my fingers finding his hair, grounding myself. He kissed every inch of my skin, my back, my temple, my jaw, like he was memorizing me in the quiet.
He murmured something low and indistinct against my neck, not words I caught, just sound.
I pressed back into him instinctively, mumbling “more,” needing him, and he answered.
His hand tightened around my leg, steadying me, holding me exactly where he wanted me, and the sensation built again, curling tighter each time he thrusted.
My thoughts became unimportant, everything narrowing to the way my body responded to his, the way he seemed to know precisely when to linger and when to push just enough.
My breath caught, a desperate, helpless sound leaving me as the feeling crested again, deeper this time.
“Stay with me. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he whispered, and I fell into the wave with a cry of his name as it washed over me.
His pace increased, and then he was right there with me, grinding harder, faster, and then he stilled with a whimper, my walls clenching as he came inside of me.
He stayed close as it passed through us, his breaths uneven against my neck.
I stretched slightly, muscles pleasantly sore, awareness settling back into my body in a way that made me keenly conscious that he was still holding me. I turned my head to see him, how his eyes were already on me. “Good morning,” I said, unable to hide my smile.
“A great morning.” His own smile answered mine. Then he moved lower, guiding my legs up as his gaze fixed on my sex, and a quiet satisfied sound left him.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, the word strained with disbelief as his thumb traced a slow line down my slit.
He stared for another second, then pushed two fingers inside me with a grunt, rising to his knees, his still-hard cock resting between us.
His upper lip curled into a hiss as he leaked onto my stomach.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispered, and then I realized he was pushing his cum back inside me. “You’ve got a guy addicted, sunshine.”
I wasn’t sure I had words for that. No, I definitely didn’t have words.
Connor O’Riley was saying he was addicted to me and he meant every word.
My body answered him before my brain could catch up. Thighs tightened around him instinctively. A terrifying realization struck me then, if he was addicted, I might be already too.
He removed his fingers, stroking his now softening dick once, twice with a groan, then leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my mouth, so casually.
“You hungry? I make a mean veggie omelet.”
Veggie omelet? I was still stuck on what just happened.
Heat crept up my neck, blooming and thriving in the most alarming yet satisfying way. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, and quickly realized I had nothing, closed it again, then huffed out a breath. “You really know how to say things that completely derail a person.”
His grin widened. “I’ve been told.”
This was weirdly comfortable. Which, if I thought about it, didn’t make much sense, considering the last twelve hours had included multiple orgasms, a confession of an addiction to me, dinner together after sex, and now casual morning conversations after more sex.
There should be nothing normal about waking up wrapped around Connor O’Riley, but somehow there was.
He brushed his nose against mine, not quite a kiss this time, just close enough to make my stomach flip at the intimacy. “So,” he said again, gentler now, “I know you have ingredients in your refrigerator I can use. Or I can make coffee first. Dealer’s choice.”
“Okay,” I said, deciding to shelve the freak out when my stomach rumbled. “But if you’re trying to impress me, you should know, I’m very hard to impress.”
“I know.” He winked as he stood. “Keeps things interesting.”
He moved through the room with a quiet certainty, unhurried and at home. Glancing back over his shoulder, he caught me staring, and his smile softened in a way that made my chest do something inconvenient.
“Coffee first,” I called out after him, pulling the sheet up around myself as I shifted onto my side. “I need to be conscious before I can be impressed.”
He laughed quietly.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to catalogue what I was feeling and coming up short. It wasn’t just the afterglow—though my body was still warm and loose and pleasantly sore—it was the ease of this. I hadn’t ever expected any of it.
Addicted, he’d said.
I wasn’t na?ve enough to pretend words like that didn’t have weight, but I also wasn’t ready to decide what they meant. Still, I couldn’t stop the small, private smile that curved my mouth as I pulled the sheet closer and breathed him in.
This felt like a morning that could tip either way, into something simple and sweet, or into something I’d remember far longer than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t sure how to deal with it; no one had ever stayed over before. No one had ever stayed before.
Footsteps padded back down the hall, and he came into the room, a mug in each hand. “Here,” he said. “No pressure to be impressed yet.”
I took it, fingers brushing his, and pushed myself up against the headboard. “You’re doing fine so far.”
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. It was easy, familiar, dangerously tender. The sense of safety wrapped around me, and the fear of losing it lingered there too.
“Are you staying in bed?” he asked.
“And miss you making a mess of my kitchen? Never.”
I quickly pulled on his t-shirt and followed him.
There was something hypnotic about watching him move around my space, barefoot and shirtless, humming while he cracked eggs into a bowl and rummaged around my space so easily.
Which, again, should’ve been alarming. Instead, I found myself leaning in, watching the whole thing like it was my favorite TV show.
The omelet he eventually set down in front of me was genuinely impressive.
“Does the lady approve?”
I swallowed another mouthful, reluctantly impressed. “You’re allowed to come back.”
He grinned at me and took another bite of his food too. “Glad to hear it.”
Normal, this was all so… normal.
After breakfast, we showered together, then he finally left the apartment later that afternoon. I hated to admit that my place was emptier, even more so that I noticed at all.