Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
PRESTON
I take one long look at Hazel’s body, splayed and beautiful on the bed, and my own self-control goes out the fucking window.
There’s nothing demure or hesitant about the way she lies there.
She’s wild, a little disheveled from my mouth on her, flushed from coming so hard she nearly ruptured my eardrums with her scream.
She’s still breathing fast, her chest heaving, her curls spread untamed across the pillow. She doesn’t even attempt to hide herself from me. She just stares back, lips parted and eyes molten, like she’s already claimed me and is daring me to do the same.
I realize, suddenly, that I’m still fully dressed. A crime, honestly. The worst kind.
I strip so fast I nearly rip my shirt in half. I feel her eyes on me, watching as I peel off every layer. By the time my jeans and boxers hit the floor, my cock is so goddamn hard it actually hurts. The way Hazel’s gaze drags over me, dark and hungry, makes me feel fucking invincible.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, and that’s the only warning I get before she sits up and wraps her hand around my cock.
Soft palm, perfect grip, fingers snug around the base.
My knees almost buckle. She strokes me once, then twice, then squeezes, and I have to run building code requirements through my brain to keep from blowing this entire operation before it starts.
She might be new at this, but she catches on quickly because she’s already killing me.
I groan, deep and helpless, then catch her hand and push her gently back down to the bed. “You’re gonna end this before it starts,” I manage, voice half an octave lower than normal.
She laughs, throaty and smug. “I wanted participation points,” she teases, but her eyes are wide and a little wild. The honesty of it cracks me open. She wants this. She wants me. And I’m never fucking letting her go.
I kneel between her thighs and run my hands up her legs, starting at her knees and working up, memorizing every inch.
Her skin is soft, unmarked except for a faint line along her thigh, a tiny white scar that I file away in my mental blueprint of her.
She shivers when I reach her hips. I lean in and kiss her belly, then her ribs, then the curve of her breast. She’s got the best tits I’ve ever seen—round and full and crowned with dusky pink nipples that beg for my mouth.
I answer, tongue swirling over one, then the other, just to hear her gasp.
I want her first time to be good. Not just good—unforgettable.
I slow everything down, even though my body’s screaming to just take her, right now, hard and rough and selfish.
I drag it out instead. I tease her until her nipples are pebbled and wet, then suck one into my mouth, biting down gently until she arches up and digs her nails into my back.
“Preston,” she whimpers, voice thick with need. “I want—”
“Tell me,” I say, hovering just over her lips, but she’s too breathless to finish. That’s fine. I know what she needs.
I slide my hand between her legs and find her still soaked, even wetter than before.
I rub her clit, slow and careful, watching her face for every twitch and shiver.
She’s so responsive it’s almost unfair. Each time I circle her clit, her hips jerk, chasing my fingers.
I want her to come again before I’m even inside her.
But then she grabs my wrist and shakes her head.
"Please, Preston," she breathes, desperation trembling in her voice. "Just… please."
I'm practically vibrating, strung so tight that rational thought is a lost cause.
My cock aches, thick and needy and begging me to hurry the fuck up.
I drag the tip of my cock to her entrance and pause, just long enough for her to feel the tension, the stretch, the promise of what comes next.
My chest is heaving as I hold on to my last ounce of control. If I move, it's over. I won't last.
I grit my jaw and search her face, every muscle locked down with want.
"You sure?" I manage, barely a whisper, giving her one last out even as my body screams for her.
My cock is poised at her slick entrance, and I can't move until she says it; I won't. The world narrows to this moment, her heat, my heart pounding out every question I can't say aloud.
She wraps her legs around my hips, hooking her ankles together. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she says, and I’m gone.
I press in, slow and careful, every muscle in my body tense to the point of pain.
The first inch nearly does me in. She’s so tight I feel her pulse in every inch of my cock.
I stop, let her adjust, then push in a little more.
She gasps, nails scoring my back, and that little bite of pain almost tips me over the edge. I grit my teeth, force myself to pause.
“Fuck, Hazel,” I groan. “You feel—Jesus, you feel perfect.”
She whimpers, then tilts her hips up and forces me deeper.
I brace my hands on the mattress, trying to keep from crushing her, but she holds on tight, shaking.
Her inner walls clench around me so hard my vision goes white at the edges.
I want to move, want to pound into her until she’s screaming again, but I hold perfectly still and wait for her to relax.
She’s the one who moves first, rocking her hips in tiny, urgent circles. She looks up at me, eyes glassy with pleasure, and whispers, “Don’t stop.”
“Not a fucking chance.” I kiss her, open-mouthed and hungry, tongues tangling as I start to move.
I give her short, careful strokes at first, making sure every inch is just right, letting her get used to my size.
She’s so fucking tight and wet that every thrust is heaven and hell, pleasure and torture.
I lean back a little so I can watch as she loses control for me.
My pace picks up, and my control frays at the edges.
Hazel’s breathing fast, her hands moving over my body—scratching at my back, clutching my biceps, pulling my face to hers like she can’t get enough.
Her moans get louder, higher, then break apart into babbled words.
I don’t know if she’s saying my name or just cursing in tongues.
Either way, it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.
I’m hanging on by a thread while my brain shorts out on pleasure so intense it almost hurts.
I want to make her come with me, so I reach down and rub her clit in time with my thrusts.
The effect is instant. Her entire body tenses as her spine arches off the bed, and she screams my name as she comes, hard and hot and all-consuming.
The grip of her pussy nearly rips the soul out of me, and I lose it, coming so hard I see stars.
I keep moving, slower now, drawing out every last second of it until my body gives up and I collapse beside her, dragging her into my arms.
For a while, there’s just the sound of our breathing, ragged and wild. I smooth her curls back from her sweaty forehead and kiss her temple, over and over, because I can’t believe she’s real, can’t believe I get to hold her like this.
She blinks up at me, eyes dazed and soft. “Wow,” she breathes.
“Yeah,” I manage, still panting. “Double wow.”
“I didn’t know it would be like that,” she says, quiet, almost shy.
I cup her cheek, force her to look at me. “It’ll always be like that for us,” I promise.
She snuggles in closer, her body curled around mine like she was made to fit there. My heart is still racing, but for once, it’s not anxiety—it’s just pure, unfiltered joy.
“I love you,” I say, before I can stop myself. The words just slip out, naked and raw and terrifying. She goes still in my arms, startled.
I panic for a split second. But then she drops her chin onto my chest and stares into my eyes, “I love you, too. Even though it’s insane.”
I grin because I know exactly what she means.
We fall asleep tangled together in her too-small bed, my arms wrapped around her and her cheek pressed to my chest. In the dark, I listen to her breathing even out, then let myself drift. Life just doesn’t get any better than this.