Chapter 22
The next night we’re at the bar again, and Sam, Charlie, Liam, and Olive are all there.
I know I’m in trouble the moment I walk in wearing the black dress that Will once said I wore for other men but him. His eyes darken in that way that makes my pulse spike.
Will grabs a whiskey from behind the bar and nurses it slowly before joining us at the table. He sits right next to me, laughing at something Sam says.
I shift in my seat, subtly, and drag the toe of my boot up his calf. Innocent, until I trail it higher, up the inside of his thigh. His hand fists on the table.
Still acting like nothing’s happening, my hand slips into his lap under the table. He looks at me. Murder in his eyes. Lust in every sharp breath.
I palm him slowly, fingers teasing. He’s already hard again. Already pulsing under my touch.
I stand. “Bathroom break. I’ll be right back.”
I walk slowly through the bar, and I feel it the moment he’s behind me.
He grabs my hand and drags me into his office. No words.
Just heat.
And the quiet thrill of knowing we are one second away from disaster and doing it anyway.
The second the door clicks shut behind us, I’m up against it, his mouth on mine.
“You wanna play games in front of your brother?” he rasps against my lips. “Then you better be ready to take the consequences.”
“I am,” I whisper, already tugging at his belt. “You gonna punish me, Will?”
He laughs. “No, sugar. I’m gonna let you ride me so hard you forget your own damn name.”
He drops into the big leather chair behind his desk like a king.
“Come here.”
I straddle him instantly, skirt hiked, panties gone. His jeans are already undone, his cock thick and hard, ready for me.
He grabs the base, lines it up.
But he doesn’t thrust.
“Oh no,” he says, leaning back, hands gripping the arms of the chair. “You wanted this? You take it.”
The look in his eyes dares me.
So I do.
I sink down onto him slow, savoring every inch. We both groan—his jaw tight, mine slack. He fills me to the hilt, stretching me in all the ways I crave.
I pause once he’s all the way in, thighs trembling.
Then I start to move.
Slow at first, rolling my hips, grinding, dragging him against every inch of me. His eyes flutter shut, a curse slipping from his lips.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growls. “So tight. So perfect. Dripping all over me already.”
I speed up, bouncing now, the wet slap of skin echoing against wood and silence. His hands find my waist, fingers digging in, helping me move harder, faster, deeper.
“Is this what you wanted?” he pants, breath hot. “To fuck me in my office like a little cock-drunk brat?”
“Yes,” I moan, tossing my head back. “Wanted you all day, Daddy.”
“You’ve got me now.”
His mouth latches onto my throat, biting, sucking, marking.
“You think they can hear you out there?” he rasps. “Think Sam would recognize those sounds?”
I gasp, legs shaking. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop—”
“I’m not fucking stopping until this chair’s soaked with you,” he snarls, thrusting up into me now, sharp and hard. “Come on, sugar. Show me how you break.”
I cry out, body convulsing around him as I fall apart, trembling and clutching his shoulders, unable to do anything but feel.
He groans deep and lifts me once—twice—then slams in and comes hard, spilling deep with a growl of my name against my skin.
We stay tangled, breathless, pulsing with leftover need.
The room smells like sex. My thighs are shaking. His chair creaks beneath us.
And when I finally open my eyes, Will’s smirking up at me.
“Now that’s how you mark your territory.”
We’re still tangled, breathless, sticky with sweat and sin, when Will leans back in the chair and drags a slow hand down his face.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, eyes on me like he’s never letting me leave this room again. “You think I’m done with you?”
My breath catches. I already know that look.
“No,” I whisper, a slow grin teasing the corner of my mouth. “You’re just getting started.”
His smirk turns dangerous.
“Damn right.”
In one fluid motion, he grabs my waist and lifts me off his lap. I barely find my footing before he spins me and presses me chest-first to the desk, scattering papers and a half-empty bottle of bourbon to the floor.
“You know what I see when I look at this desk now?” he growls, hiking up my skirt. “A place where my girl learns her lessons.”
“Will—”
He slides a hand down my spine and over my ass, gripping hard. “You gonna be a good girl this time? Or make me fuck the attitude outta you again?”
I moan, breath fogging the wood. “Depends. You gonna talk like that the whole time?”
He chuckles. “Oh, I’m gonna ruin you, sugar.”
He pushes inside me again in one hard thrust, and my fingers claw at the desk as I cry out. He’s already deep, already moving with no patience, no hesitation. Just rough, relentless need.
“Every time you sit in this bar,” he growls against my neck, “I want you to remember how I bent you over this desk and made you come screaming.”
“Will—God—”
“That’s right,” he snarls, gripping my hips, pounding into me. “Say my name. Let the whole damn bar hear who fucks you like you were made for it.”
My legs are shaking, my cheek pressed to the cool desk, mouth open in helpless moans as he drives into me over and over.
“You gonna come like this?” he taunts, voice pure sin. “Bent over my desk, dripping, stuffed full of cock like a good little girl
“Yes—” I cry out. “Yes, I’m close—please—”
“Then fucking come for me.”
I fall apart, body convulsing, every nerve lit on fire as I clench around him. He slams into me once—twice—then growls, deep and guttural, as he follows, spilling inside me with a force that makes my knees buckle.
We collapse together, him still inside, both of us undone.
And then he kisses my shoulder, hand still tight on my waist.
“Next time,” he murmurs, voice rough with promise, “I make you come while you're on a call with Sam.”
And somehow, I know he means it.
And he does the next morning when Sam calls. I’m curled up on Will’s couch wearing nothing but his T-shirt and the cockiest post-orgasm smile imaginable when my phone starts to ring.
The name flashing on the screen?
Sam.
I freeze.
Will lifts an eyebrow, stretching beside me, smug and shirtless. “You gonna answer that?”
“I probably should.”
“Mmm.” He shifts closer, his palm sliding up my bare thigh. “You probably should.”
I narrow my eyes. “Behave.”
He grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I swipe to answer. “Hey, Sam.”
Will’s fingers don’t stop.
“Hey, just checking in,” Sam says. “You weren’t at the market this morning. Everything good?”
“Yeah—” My voice hitches as Will's hand slides higher. I glare at him. “Everything’s… great.”
Will nuzzles my neck, whispering, “You sound so sweet when you lie.”
“I was just running late,” I manage. “Meant to text.”
Will's fingers trace a lazy pattern just beneath the hem of the shirt. Slow. Teasing. My breath catches.
“You sure?” Sam’s voice is all big-brother concern. “You sound out of breath.”
Will mouths, Tell him you're stretching.
“Just did some yoga,” I say through gritted teeth.
Will bites back a laugh.
“I’ll be around this afternoon if you wanna meet up,” Sam adds. “Charlie’s been asking about you.”
Will’s hand slips under the shirt now, sliding between my legs.
I slap a hand over his, wide-eyed. He just raises a brow and mouths, Say yes, sugar.
“Yeah,” I croak. “Sure. Just, uh, let me shower first.”
Sam chuckles. “No rush. You okay?”
Will’s fingers start to move just enough to break me. And I am not okay.
But I nod, voice tight. “Yeah. Totally fine.”
Sam says something else, but I don’t hear it.
I can barely breathe.
Because Will’s mouth is at my neck again, murmuring filth I can’t even process as his fingers push me closer and closer to the edge.
I swallow hard, teeth clenched. “Gotta go. Talk soon.”
I hang up. And instantly fall apart in Will’s hands, moaning his name, body trembling as the high crashes through me.
When I finally stop shaking, he kisses my cheek and grins like the devil.
“Next time,” he says, voice pure heat, “we leave the call on speaker.”
“Next time,” I counter, breath still catching in my chest, “you’re going to be the one falling apart.”
Will freezes mid-kiss at my throat. Then leans back just enough to look me in the eyes.
A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.
“Oh yeah?”
I nod, smug. “You think you’ve got all the control around here. But next time, you’re gonna be the one begging.”
He laughs—deep and rough and dangerous. “Begging, huh?”
“Panting. Shaking. Trying not to come too fast while I take my time.”
He arches a brow, clearly amused and turned on. “And what exactly do you have in mind, sugar?”
I crawl into his lap, straddling him, dragging the hem of his T-shirt up his chest. “Oh, I’ve got plans, cowboy. Real slow ones. The kind that start with me on my knees and end with you making promises you can’t keep.”
His breath hitches. Just for a second. But I feel it.
“Confident,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up my thighs. “I like it.”
“You’re gonna love it.”
He leans in, mouth brushing mine. “You keep talking like that and you’re gonna find yourself on your knees right now.”
“Tempting,” I whisper, lips ghosting his. “But I think I’ll wait until you least expect it.”
He groans, grabbing my hips. “God, you’re gonna kill me.”
I smirk, rocking against him. “That’s the plan.”
My revenge happens two days later.
Will’s sprawled on my couch in a dark gray T-shirt and those goddamn jeans that hug his thighs just right, phone pressed to his ear, his tone all casual charm.
“Yeah, Sam,” he says, chuckling. “Got the order delivered this morning. Kegs are stacked. Barback’s prepped. Don’t worry. Your next album launch is going to be great.”
I crawl onto the couch, slow and silent, straddling his lap.
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t stop talking.
I smirk. Game on.
I lean in, trailing kisses along his jaw, then down his neck. I can feel his breath hitch beneath me, even if his voice stays calm.
“Yeah, I think it’s great to show off why you love Broken Heart Creek” His hand settles on my waist, warning me to stop.
I ignore it.
My lips travel lower, down his throat, over his collarbone. I pull the hem of his shirt up and start kissing my way down his chest.
Will shifts slightly beneath me, clearing his throat.
“Uh-huh,” he says into the phone, though his tone falters. “No—yeah, I’m listening.”
I pop the button on his jeans, watching his jaw clench.
His hand shoots to my wrist. Tight.
He mouths, Don’t you dare.
I smile sweetly and mouth back, Beg.
He glares.
So I move lower.
He’s already half-hard. It takes nothing, just one slow stroke of my hand, and he’s fully there, straining beneath my touch.
“Yeah,” he chokes out, gripping the armrest hard. “Still planning to—uh—finish the back patio this week.”
I take my time. Deliberate. Unhurried. I kiss the skin just above his waistband, then pull him free, slow and teasing. The moment my mouth slides over him, he curses under his breath and fists the couch cushion.
“Sorry—Sam, what? Yeah, no—I’m just—uh—checking something in the stockroom.”
His voice is strained now. Breathless.
I hum low in my throat just to watch him twitch.
He glares down at me like he’s ready to lose his mind, but he doesn’t stop me.
He can’t.
“Yeah. I’ll swing by later,” he says, then coughs hard, like that’ll cover the shaky breath he’s barely keeping in. “Uh-huh. Yep. Gotta—gotta run. Someone—needs me at the—”
He hangs up mid-sentence.
His phone clatters to the floor.
His hand tangles in my hair as he growls, “You’re evil.”
I smile up at him, mouth still wrapped around him.
And when he finally falls apart—hips jerking, voice raw, my name slipping from his lips like a confession—I know exactly what this is: My victory.
I barely finish wiping the corner of my mouth when Will grabs me, yanking me up and onto his lap so I’m straddling him again, only now he has the power.
“Oh, you think you’re cute?” he growls, still breathless but already recovering, already hardening again beneath me.
I grin. “I think I’m very cute.”
He leans in, nipping my bottom lip hard enough to make me gasp. “You think that little stunt doesn’t come with consequences?”
“Wasn’t that the point?”
He slides his hands under my shirt, fingertips dragging over my ribs until I shiver.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he murmurs, voice like gravel. “You’re not gonna come until I say. You got that?”
I blink. “What—”
He grips my hips, lifts me, and sinks me down onto him in one smooth, punishing thrust.
I cry out, hands scrambling for his shoulders as he fills me deep, no warning, no patience.
“Didn’t stutter,” he says, snapping his hips up. “You wanted to make me fall apart? Now you’re gonna feel what it’s like when I don’t let you.”
I try to move—need to move—but his grip tightens.
“No,” he growls. “You stay still. You take it.”
I whimper. He thrusts up again, hard.
“You sit here, and you feel every inch of my cock while I ruin you from the inside out.”
Another thrust.
“‘Cause now it’s my turn, sugar. And I’m gonna make you beg.”
He keeps moving. I’m already close, already trembling, but he knows. Every time I get there, he stops. Pulls out. Waits.
Then drives back in.
“You gonna come?” he whispers, mouth at my ear. “Too fucking bad.”
I sob his name, nails digging into his back.
He grins, cruel and gorgeous. “Not until you tell me who owns this pussy.”
“You—”
“Louder.”
“You do, Will—you do!”
He growls, slams into me once more and lets me break. Lets me come, full-body shaking, head thrown back, breath shattered.
And then? He flips me onto my back and keeps going. Harder. Darker. Rougher. Until I’ve come again and he finishes with a low sound, collapsing over me, both of us breathless and ruined.
Finally, he pulls back enough to look me in the eye, brushing hair from my face.
“Next time,” he murmurs, still breathless, “you pull that phone stunt again…”
“What?” I whisper, dazed.
His mouth curls into a wicked grin.
“I’m answering on speaker.”