Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nysa
The first thing I feel when I wake up is warmth. The second is soreness, a deep, delicious ache between my thighs. I blink, slowly coming back to myself, my bare body tangled in soft sheets, the scent of sex, sweat, and Hopper lingering in the air.
Right, it wasn’t a dream. A sweet, erotic dream. Nope. I did have sex with Hopper Timberbridge and it was probably the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.
He’s next to me, his broad, powerful body sprawled across the bed, one arm stretched out like he was holding me in his sleep.
My breath catches. He looks so . . . peaceful.
So different from the man he is when he’s awake—when he’s bearing the weight of everything alone, when his eyes are keen and assessing, always bracing for the next fight. But here, like this, there’s no armor, no guarded edges. Just him. And for a moment, I let myself feel it—the quiet pull toward someone who’s never had the chance to rest.
Here, in sleep, he’s just Hopper. My Hopper. The man who fucked me into this bed an hour ago, maybe. The man who makes me ache in the best way possible. The man I can’t stop wanting, even when I’ve tried so hard.
I shift slightly, propping myself on one elbow, studying him. His tattoos stretch over his muscled arms, ink and skin blending in perfect contrast. I trace a fingertip over them, following the lines, the ridges of his muscles, the hard planes of his chest.
His stomach is tight, defined abs leading to the deep V that disappears beneath the sheets. Maybe even lower . . . I swallow hard, my thighs clenching as my eyes drop to where the blanket barely conceals what I already know is there.
What I took inside me not even an hour ago.
What wrecked me, filled me, stretched me to my limit.
What I need to taste.
Hopper shifts, a soft exhale leaving his lips, and then his eyes open—lazy, dark, hooded with sleep and heat. I freeze for a second, my fingertips still resting against his abs. His lips curve into a smirk.
“Can’t stop touching me, can you, sweetheart?” His voice is rough, deep, still thick with sleep.
I shiver. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”
He smirks, tilting his head slightly, watching me.
“You’ve been running your hands all over me, and you think I’m just gonna sleep through it?”
I blush, but I don’t pull away.
His hand moves suddenly, fingers gripping my wrist, dragging my palm down his stomach, lower, lower, until?—
Oh, fuck.
His cock is thick, heavy, hard. I suck in a breath, my thighs squeezing together, my fingers twitching around his length. Hopper groans, his head tilting back slightly, his grip tightening on my wrist.
“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, voice gravelly, wrecked already. “That what you want?”
I swallow, licking my lips, heat pooling low in my belly. “Not just that. I want to taste you.”
His eyes darken, his entire body tensing beneath me.
“You sure?” His tone is low, knowing, like he’s already picturing it. Already imagining how I’ll look with his cock in my mouth. Already tasting him, swallowing.
I nod, breathless.
“I don’t know if you can take it,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my lips, pressing against the seam.
I part my lips, drawing his thumb in slowly, letting the heat of my mouth wrap around it. My tongue swirls over the pad, teasing, tasting, dragging out the moment until his breath hitches. I hollow my cheeks, sucking just enough to make his fingers twitch, his control fraying at the edges.
His eyes darken, fixed on me like I’ve just shattered whatever restraint he had left.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he murmurs, voice rough with approval. “Look at you, taking me so perfectly.”
His free hand cups my jaw, his thumb pressing lightly at the hinge, coaxing me to take more, to keep going. “You’re so damn good at this,” he praises, his tone dipping into something deeper, something raw. “You like making me lose my mind, don’t you?
“Fuck,” he growls.
Then he yanks his thumb away, grips my hair, and pulls me down.
I slide down his body, the rough grip in my hair making me ache between my thighs, making my pulse race.
I settle between his legs, my fingers wrapping around his length, stroking slowly, teasing the thick, swollen head with my tongue.
Hopper’s breathing changes, his abs tightening, his fingers fisting the sheets for control.
“Fuck, Nys.” His voice is low, dangerous, so fucking turned on.
I swirl my tongue over the tip, licking away the salty pre-cum, getting my first taste of him.
And, God, I want more.
I wrap my lips around him, taking him in slowly, letting my mouth stretch around his thickness.
He’s too big, and I can’t take all of him—but I try. I bob my head, hollowing my cheeks, sucking him deeper. Hopper groans, one hand still gripping my hair, guiding me, his hips lifting slightly.
“Look at you,” he growls, his voice thick with lust. “So fucking eager to take my cock.”
I moan around him, heat flooding my body, my thighs pressing together, aching for friction. He notices.
“Yeah, baby?” His grip tightens in my hair, pulling me up slightly, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You like sucking my cock?” he rasps.
I nod, licking my lips, my breath ragged.
He smirks. “Then do it right.”
Then he pushes me back down, deep into my mouth.
I choke, my throat stretching, my eyes watering. But I love it. I love the way he sounds, the way he groans my name, the way his thighs tremble beneath my hands.
I let him use my mouth, let him fuck my throat, let him wreck me the way I want him to.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his grip tugging my hair, controlling my pace, guiding me faster, deeper, harder. “You take me so fucking good, baby,” he groans. “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.”
I whimper, my core throbbing, my own pleasure building just from making him fall apart.
Hopper’s breathing is ragged now, his muscles coiled tight, his abs clenching beneath me.
“You’re gonna make me come, sweetheart,” he growls, his voice rough, dripping with control that’s slipping fast. His fingers tighten in my hair, guiding me, holding me exactly where he wants me. “You gonna take it all? Swallow every drop?”
I whimper around him, nodding frantically, desperate for his praise, for his approval. My mouth is stretched around him, my body trembling with need, every nerve sparking with heat as I lose myself in the way he takes, the way he owns every second of this.
Then he grunts, his grip flexing, his hips jerking as he spills hot and thick onto my tongue. I moan at the taste, savoring every drop as I swallow him down, licking him clean, not stopping until there’s nothing left but the deep, ragged sound of his breathing.
I pull back, breathless, wrecked, shaking.
Hopper watches me, his chest rising and falling fast, his gaze dark and unreadable—almost possessive.
Then he moves.
His hands cup my face, tilting it up, his thumb running over my swollen lips. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, rich with satisfaction. “Took me so fucking well.”
And then his mouth crashes onto mine, claiming, devouring. He kisses me deep, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting himself on me like he needs to, like he wants to own every part of this moment.
I melt into him, into the heat of his mouth, the way his hands cradle me like I’m something precious—even as he’s wrecking me all over again.