Chapter 27 #2
I was lost in the overwhelming pleasure, each powerful stroke of his body against mine sending me soaring higher and higher. “Yours,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back. “I belong to you, Hayden. Only you.”
My words drove him wild, his movements becoming erratic and forceful.
He slipped his hand between our bodies, finding my sensitive clit, circling it with his fingers as he continued to thrust into me, his rhythm steady and powerful.
“Come for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice like honey, dripping with seduction.
“Let go, Edwina. I want to feel your tight pussy clench around me when you come undone.”
His words were my undoing, the rough pad of his thumb working my clit, his cock filling me completely, hitting that sweet spot deep inside me with every roll of his hips. I was climbing, climbing, my nails digging crescents into his back.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his thumb applying more pressure, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder. “Give it to me, Edwina. I want your pleasure, your screams. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
And then I was there, falling over the edge, my body clenching around him, my orgasm crashing over me in a rush as fierce and consuming as a tidal wave. I screamed his name, my head thrown back, my body shuddering with the force of my release.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing himself in the feeling of my climax. “Milk me, baby. Take everything I have to give.”
His words, his touch, the way he moved inside me, drew out my orgasm, wave after wave of blinding pleasure coursing through my veins. With a guttural groan, he followed me, his hips jerking, spilling himself deep within me, claiming me in the most primal way.
We stayed there, wrapped around each other, his forehead resting against mine, our breathing ragged. He gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, his eyes filled with tenderness and adoration.
The silence after was a different kind of storm, heavy but softened by the rhythm of his breath beneath me.
His chest rose and fell, bare and warm under my cheek, his skin still damp with sweat, his body loose in a way I rarely saw.
I shifted, reaching for the book I had tossed aside earlier, and settled on top of him, legs draped over his waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The dim light from the lamp cast the words in a faint glow, enough for me to sink back into them, to hide from the dangerous thoughts that always followed when I looked at him too long.
His fingers slid into my hair, idly twining the strands, tugging just enough to remind me he was still in control even when he looked so devastatingly at ease.
His voice broke the quiet, low and rough, a murmur that vibrated against my ear.
“You are fucking beautiful.”
Heat flared at the tips of my ears, but I refused to lift my gaze from the page. “Don’t,” I whispered, trying to sound unaffected even as my heart fluttered traitorously. “Don’t make me lose my concentration. I’m reading.”
A soft laugh rumbled in his chest beneath me, the sound mocking and amused all at once.
“Reading,” he echoed, drawing the word out as though it were foreign. His fingers tugged another strand of my hair, his mouth curving into a smirk I didn’t need to see to feel. “Really? A book?” He leaned in, his breath grazing my temple. “Since when does a dark romance count as a real book?”
The words struck sharper than he probably intended, his tone casual, teasing, but edged with that arrogance that always cut. My stomach tightened, my hands clutching the book tighter against me.
I lifted my head slowly, meeting his eyes at last, my voice cool but trembling with restrained anger. “Don’t belittle what I love.” For a heartbeat, the air between us shifted, charged and dangerous again, though not with the same hunger as before.
His fingers traced lazy circles across my scalp, tugging gently at strands of hair as his gaze lingered on me, sharper than the words that slipped from his mouth. “So you love dark romance books?” he asked, voice laced with a curiosity that felt closer to provocation.
“Tell me, is it the plot that keeps you up at night… or the things those male characters do to the women?”
Heat crawled up my neck, flooding my cheeks before I could will it back.
My lips parted, words caught on the edge of a breath I couldn’t control.
And the book in my hands suddenly felt heavier, as though it betrayed me by revealing everything I wanted to hide.
Hayden’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating beneath me, unrestrained and amused.
He tilted his head, his eyes drinking me in with that infuriating, devastating calm.
“You are so fucking adorable when you blush.”
His hand slipped lower, fingers brushing the curve of my jaw before sliding back into my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp.
“But if you want…” His lips ghosted over the shell of my ear, his voice a whisper that seared straight through me.
“…we can try the things you’re reading in those books. In real life.”
My pulse leapt, ragged, and I pressed the book tighter to my chest, trying to use it as a shield, though it felt useless against the weight of him, the raw presence of his body beneath mine.
He shifted slightly, just enough for my gaze to falter, drawn downward against my will.
His chest was bare, golden under the faint lamplight, muscles taut and relaxed all at once.
The ridges of his abdomen rose and fell with each subtle rhythm of his breathing, distracting in their perfection, and lower still, fine dark hairs trailed from the hollow of his navel, disappearing beneath the low waistband of his pants.
My throat went dry, my eyes betraying me even as I tried to drag them back to the page.
Concentration was impossible, composure unraveling, because every line I read blurred into nothing when he was here, shirtless and unrepentant, looking at me as though he already knew every secret I was trying to keep.
His teasing words lingered in the air, thick and dangerous, and I could feel my composure unravel thread by thread.
The book slipped from my hands, falling forgotten onto the floor, and my fingers tightened against the hard lines of his chest as though I could anchor myself to him.
He smirked up at me, eyes glinting, infuriatingly sure of himself.
“Go on, Little Flare,” he murmured, his thumb brushing slow circles against my hip. “Tell me which of those filthy fantasies you want me to make real.”
Something broke loose inside me then, a force that had nothing to do with anger or shame, but with the wild, ungoverned need that had been waiting beneath my skin, aching to be seen, aching to be set free.
My pulse thundered in my throat as I leaned down, closing the distance, crushing my mouth against his with a force that startled even me.
The kiss was messy, desperate, unpracticed in its urgency, but it was mine.
My lips moved against his, hungry, claiming him off guard.
My hands framed his jaw, fingers threading into his hair, holding him to me as if I’d drown if I let go.
Between ragged breaths, between the heat of his lips and the scrape of his teeth, the words tore out of me before I could stop them.
“I love you,” I whispered against his mouth, the confession breaking in shards of glass, raw and irretrievable.
He stilled beneath me.
The world seemed to tilt, silence filling the space between us until it felt alive.
His body went rigid, his hands still at my waist, and when his eyes met mine, something shifted deep within them.
Shock came first, then fear and disbelief, and beneath it all, a faint tremor of longing he couldn’t hide.
For a single moment, the man who always carried control, who spoke and moved with certainty, stood before me stripped of it.
He was no longer the professor, no longer the force I had spent weeks trying to resist, only Hayden, caught off guard by three words that had undone us both.