Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hopper
Our kiss shatters, leaving us panting, our foreheads nearly touching. But it’s not enough. She’s not enough—I need her in ways that make my head spin.
“I need you,” I confess, voice rough with need. “Need to be inside you. Need you so fucking much.”
She gasps, her hands bracing against my chest, but she’s already soft, already yielding. She’s not stopping me—not pulling away. But I don’t give her a second to hesitate.
“I need you too,” she breathes, and, fuck, that’s all it takes.
I grab her wrist, pulling her toward my room, shoving the door shut with my foot before I press her against it. The lock clicks.
Trapping us.
Securing her to me.
Then my mouth crashes back onto hers, devouring, taking. My hands slide into her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back, to let me deepen the kiss, to let me own her fucking mouth the way I need to own the rest of her.
I need this.
I need her.
Need to drown out the chaos, the threats, the fucking fear that’s been clawing at me since I found that Polaroid. Since she pulled away from me. Since she made me need her more than I ever fucking should.
“Nysa,” I growl, my voice rough, frayed at the edges.
Her lips part, her breath uneven, her pupils blown wide as she stares up at me. She’s already wrecked, already unraveling—and I haven’t even touched her properly yet.
But she knows.
She knows I’m past the point of holding back.
I cage her in, my hands braced on either side of her head. Nowhere to go—not that she’s trying to run. Not this time.
“What do you want?” I murmur, lips barely a breath from hers. “Tell me, Nysa. Tell me you want this.”
She swallows, fingers twitching against my chest, but she doesn’t push me away.
“Hopper . . . I?—”
“Say it.” My voice dips lower, more demanding. My hands drag down her sides, slow, deliberate, fingers teasing the hem of the flannel shirt before gripping her hips, pulling her flush against me. “Say you fucking want me.”
Her breath hitches, her lashes fluttering. “I?—”
I slide one hand down, curling it around her thigh, lifting, pressing her against my waist. Her body arches, heat searing through her clothes, and, fuck—that’s all I need.
I grab her ass and haul her up, forcing her legs around my hips. She gasps, nails digging into my shoulders, body clinging to mine like she belongs to me.
“You feel that?” I grind against her, letting her feel how hard I am. How desperate I am for her. “This is what you do to me, baby. You’ve had me fucked up for weeks. Had me dreaming about this. About you.”
Her lips part on a shaky breath. “Hopper . . .”
“Tell me how bad you want it.” I kiss her jaw, then move, biting at the sensitive spot beneath her ear. She shudders, her breath stuttering, her thighs tightening around my waist.
I roll my hips, dragging a groan from her throat.
“Tell me,” I demand again, voice sharp, almost brutal. “Tell me you’re mine, baby. That you want me to fuck you so hard you’ll still feel me tomorrow.”
A whimper breaks free, her fingers tangling in my hair, tugging me closer now.
“I want you,” she finally gasps, breathless, desperate. “I want all of you.”
A sharp, dark grin curves my lips.
“You’re gonna get it.”
I carry her to the bed, tossing her down onto the mattress.
She bounces slightly, her hair splaying out around her, her chest rising and falling too fast. I stand over her, taking a second to just look.
She’s flushed, lips parted, pupils dark and needy. Her thighs squeeze together, already aching for friction.
Mine.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” I murmur, unbuttoning my shirt, watching the way her eyes drop to my hands, to my chest as I shrug it off.
She licks her lips. “Tell me.”
A dark chuckle rumbles through me as I grip her ankle and drag her to the edge of the bed. She gasps, but I’m already there, pushing her legs apart, slotting myself between them.
“I think I’d rather show you,” I growl.
I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, pressing my body over hers, letting her feel every inch of me, every ounce of control I refuse to give up.
She whimpers and, fuck, that sound—I swear it goes straight to my cock.
“Is this what you want?” I tease, grinding against her, my cock heavy against the softest part of her. “Or do you need me to take it further?”
She squirms, already trying to chase it, already trying to take more.
I smirk. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
Her eyes snap up to mine, her cheeks flushed because she knows what I’m doing. But she likes it. She bites her lip, then, in the softest, most wrecked voice, she whispers, “I need more.”
I rip her shirt, tossing it somewhere behind me. My hands roam, palms dragging over her bare skin, learning her, memorizing every inch.
Her body is mine to explore, mine to own. I slip my fingers under the waistband of her underwear, dragging them down, slow, torturous, because I want her desperately.
I kiss down her neck, teeth grazing, biting just hard enough to make her gasp.
“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” I murmur against her skin. “Walking around in my house like you belong here. Like you don’t know how bad I want you.”
She shivers, her legs spreading wider as my hands grip her thighs, squeezing, kneading.
“Hopper . . .” Her breath stutters when I spread her open, my thumb dragging slow, teasing circles where she needs it most.
“So fucking wet for me,” I mutter, my voice dark, rough.
She gasps, hips lifting, trying to take more.
But I’m not letting her have it that easy.
I pull back, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then another, working my way up so damn slow she whimpers.
“You want me to taste you?” I murmur against her skin, watching the way her hands grip the sheets.
She nods frantically.
“Use your words, Nysa.” My voice is a low rasp against her inner thigh, my breath teasing over slick, heated skin. I can feel her body quivering, desperate for my mouth, for my fingers, for everything I’m about to give her.
“Yes,” she moans, her fingers fisting the sheets, then diving into my hair, pulling, pleading. “Please, Hopper.”
I drag my lips higher, tongue tracing the delicate crease where her thigh meets her soaked, aching center. But I don’t give her what she wants—not yet.
“What do you want?” I murmur against her skin, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss against her pussy. My nose brushes against her, inhaling the sweet, heady scent of her arousal. I groan. Fuck. I could drown in this.
“Taste me,” she whispers, breathless, desperate. “Lick me. Please.”
A loud growl rumbles through my chest, and I give her exactly what she’s begging for. I slowly tease her. My lips following a path down her thighs, kissing, biting. I push her thighs open wider. She’s bare before me, glistening, fucking perfect.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, gripping her thighs, spreading her open wider. “Look at you. You’re so wet for me. So ready.”
She whimpers, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking friction, but I hold her down.
“Stay still,” I warn, my voice dark, full of unspoken promises. “I’ll give you what you need, but you take what I give you. Understand?”
She nods quickly, her body tensing.
Without another word, I lower my mouth to her, my tongue flicking out to taste her—slow, deep, savoring.
Her gasp is sharp, her fingers tightening in my hair, her thighs trembling against my shoulders.
“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” I groan, flattening my tongue against her, licking a long, slow stripe up her slit before swirling around the swollen bundle of nerves at the top. She jerks, a choked moan escaping her lips.
I fucking love this. The way she comes apart for me. The way she surrenders, trusts me to take her exactly where she needs to go.
I wrap my lips around her clit and suck, hard, dragging a strangled cry from her throat. Her hips buck, but I press her back down, owning every movement, every gasp, every shaky breath.
“You like that?” I murmur against her, teasing her with the flick of my tongue. “You like how I taste you, baby? How I make you mine?”
“Yes,” she moans, her voice high and needy. “Yes, Hopper—please?—”
I smirk against her skin, then push two fingers inside her, slow, deep, curling them just right. She clenches around me instantly, her body already on the edge. Fuck, she’s so tight. So fucking perfect.
I start moving, thrusting my fingers inside her, stretching her, stroking that spot that has her body tensing, her breath coming in shallow, broken whimpers.
“That’s it,” I murmur, licking, sucking, working her closer. “Take it, baby. Feel how deep I am? How good I make you feel?”
She’s shaking, her body bowing off the bed, sweat dampening her skin as she chases the pleasure I’m giving her.
“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” I taunt, my voice rough with hunger. “Gonna let me taste it? Let me lick up every last drop?”
Her only answer is a strangled cry as her orgasm crashes through her, her back arching, legs trembling, her fingers tightening in my hair as I work her through it, licking and stroking and dragging her pleasure out as long as I can.
She moans my name, breathless, wrecked.
I grin against her trembling flesh, pressing a final, lingering kiss between her thighs before I lift my head, meeting her hooded, glassy gaze.
“That was just the beginning,” I murmur darkly, wiping my chin with the back of my hand before crawling up her body. “Now, I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own damn name.”
I hover over her, watching the aftershocks ripple through her body, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. Her lips are parted, swollen from my kisses, her eyes glazed, wrecked. Mine.
Dragging my fingers from her still-clenching heat, I bring them to my mouth, sucking them clean as I hold her gaze. Sweet. Addictive. I groan, savoring the taste of her, the way she shivers, the way her pupils dilate as she watches me.
Then I lower my body over hers, pressing my lips to her ear, my breath hot against her sweat-slicked skin.
“Such a good girl,” I murmur, my hand sliding over her thigh, squeezing, claiming. “Such a fucking good girl for me.”
She shudders, her body still trembling beneath mine, her nails scraping over my shoulders as she pulls me closer.
And, fuck, I’m not done with her yet. Not even close.