Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
David
Fucking. Christ.
This woman is everything I never knew I needed. Everything I ever wanted.
Watching her come? Number one on my list of favorite fucking sights to see.
I feel her convulsing around my cock, and fuck, it’s making me want to come. But not yet.
I slow us down. Kissing her sweet tits, her neck, her cheek.
Then I cup her cheeks, and I bring her mouth to mine—gently, slowly, passionately.
She tastes like the coconut bubble tea she had for dessert. And something else. Something sweeter.
She tastes like home.
She sighs into the kiss, and I moan, my dick pulsing inside her. I lay down taking her with me, and I roll us both so now I’m on top—and holy fuck, I slide deeper.
She’s so hot and wet. So slick for me. And I can’t deny it—her pussy was made for me.
Like a hot velvet vise wrapped around me.
She’s still feeling it. Still tingling from her first orgasm, and I use that to my advantage. I flex my hips, grinding into her, and Hilary gasps and whimpers.
My blood is on fire for her. Pure molten lava, and I know I’m in over my head.
But I’m on a mission now. To make my girl come again. And I won’t fail. Won’t stop until she does.
I drape her legs over my arms, spreading her wider as I move in earnest.
Harder. Faster. Sliding deeper with every thrust.
“Goddamn, Sunshine, you feel so good, yeah? Feel fucking perfect,” I tell her as my fingers dig into the mattress and I thrust even harder.
“David, don’t stop,” she moans, and I nod.
“I’m not stopping. Not till I feel your pretty pussy come again. You close, linda? Tell me.”
She nods.
Breathless. Beautiful.
Sweat glistening on her forehead. Tears trailing from her eyes because it’s just that intense.
I lean down and lick them away. Swallowing her emotions as I fuck into her, desperate now for release.
She’s so damn slick. Hot. And dear God, she’s strangling my cock with how tight she is.
Then I feel it—the second her body starts to tremble.
Her nails scratch at my back, and she arches into me, mouth wide open in a silent scream.
And this time I follow her straight over the edge and into that sweet, blissful oblivion I’ve been chasing my whole life but never felt until now.
Because I know for a fact she’s the one.
She is it.
And before morning, she’s gonna know it. I’m gonna tell her.
But of course, we fall asleep before I can tell her anything about how I feel.
I wake up before the sun.
Not fully. Just enough.
That quiet edge of consciousness where the world hasn’t caught up yet.
For a second, I don’t move.
Because I feel her.
Warm. Soft.
Curled into me like she fits there.
Like she belongs there—she fucking does
My arm is around her waist, her back pressed to my chest, her hair a wild spill across the pillow and half over my arm.
She smells like me now.
Like us.
And that does something to me I’m not ready to unpack.
I open my eyes. Slowly.
The city beyond the glass is still dim, just starting to glow with early morning light. The skyline looks softer like this. Less sharp. Less demanding.
I shift slightly, just enough to see her face.
And yeah, that hits harder than anything last night did.
She’s peaceful. No guarding herself from me.
No hesitation. No second-guessing.
Just soft. Satisfied. And mine.
Beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with perfection and everything to do with real.
Her lashes rest against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted, her body loose in sleep—like she trusts this moment.
Trusts me.
My chest tightens.
I brush a curl away from her face, careful not to wake her.
She makes a small sound. Barely there. It’s cute as fuck.
And instinct kicks in hard and fast—don’t move. Don’t wake her. Don’t break this.
Because whatever this is?
It feels important.
More than it should.
More than I planned for.
More than I’m ready for.
I don’t know much about love.
Never had reason to.
I didn’t grow up surrounded by it, didn’t build my life chasing it. What I know—what I’ve always known—is hunger. Drive.
The kind of focus that gets you out of nothing and into everything.
Love? That was for other people.
People with time.
People with softer lives.
But this—this thing with Hilary?
It’s not soft. It’s not easy. It doesn’t feel like something you ease into or grow comfortable with.
It hits. Hard. Slams into your gut with a relentless sort of quality I respect.
Like it’s been waiting for me and just decided now was the time.
Because when I think about her—when I’m near her—everything in me shifts.
She doesn’t just get my attention.
She takes it. Owns it.
She sets my heart on fire in a way I didn’t think was possible anymore.
And my music? The beat that lives inside my head?
Christ.
My music hasn’t sounded like this in years.
She didn’t just wake something up in me. She brought it back to life. And that should scare me.
It should make me pull back. Reassess.
Put distance between us before this turns into something I can’t control.
But I don’t want distance. I want more.
More of her smiles. Her laughter. Her sweet kisses.
More of the way she looks at me when she’s trying not to. The way she feels when she forgets to hold back.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face.
I might not be the man she imagined for herself.
Not the safe one. Not the predictable one.
I come with noise and lights. With chaos. With a world that doesn’t slow down for anyone.
But I know something with a certainty I don’t question anymore.
I’m the only man for her. The only one who can meet her where she is. And pull her into something bigger without breaking her.
Not because I think I’m better.
Because I know myself.
I know what I give. I know what I take.
And with her? I don’t want to take anything she doesn’t hand to me.
But once she does—I’m not giving it back.
Is that conceit? Maybe.
Or maybe it’s just knowing something for what it is.
Because I was unsure at first.
Told myself it was timing. Chemistry.
A spark I could walk away from.
But I touched her.
And that ended any doubts.
That ended the debate.
The distance.
The lies I was telling myself about what this could be.
Because when I had her in my arms? When she looked at me like that? When she let go and trusted me with something real?
It stopped being a question.
Now?
It’s fact.
She fits.
In my space. In my head. In the parts of me I don’t let anyone near.
And yeah, maybe I don’t know what love is supposed to look like.
Maybe I don’t have the right language for it.
But I know this—I am in love with this woman. And I’m not walking away from her.
Not now.
Not after last night. Not after feeling what it’s like to have something real in my hands.
Call it obsession.
Call it possession.
Call it whatever the hell you want.
All I know is—she’s mine to want. And I’m done pretending I don’t.
I exhale slowly and force myself to sit up, easing my arm out from under her.
She shifts, rolling onto her stomach, pulling the sheet with her.
For a second, I almost lay back down.
Almost forget everything outside this room.
But I can’t. Because reality?
It’s already knocking.
I need clothes. I need my phone. A fucking toothbrush.
I need—I grab my jeans from the floor, pull them on quietly, and step out into the hallway, letting the door click shut behind me.
I’ll just be gone for a minute.
That’s all.
I’ll grab what I need. Come right back.
Simple.
Except it’s not.
Because the second I step into my room, my phone lights up.
Missed calls.
Multiple.
My manager and producer.
The studio.
Unknown number.
Balor fucking Cruz.
“What the hell—”
The phone rings again.
I don’t even look at the number this time.
I answer.
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Mars, this is Jake Windsor from the studio. We met yesterday?”
I close my eyes for a second.
Of course it’s him. The prick chatting up my girl.
“Yeah, I remember,” I say, voice rough because I definitely remember.
“Right. We need you here immediately.”
My jaw tightens.
“Why?”
A pause.
“There’s been a flag on one of the beats you’re using in Try For Me. The system kicked it back during a rights check. Possible overlap.”
I go still.
Not worried.
Annoyed.
It’s the kind of shit that happens from time to time in this business. It’s a hassle.
But I’m smart enough to know my shit only, well, it takes time to work out.
Fuck. Of course, this happens now.
“What kind of overlap?” I ask, already moving, already thinking three steps ahead.
“We’re not sure yet,” Jake says. “But with the Rugby deal moving as fast as it is, legal wants eyes on it immediately. They don’t want to risk any delays.”
Yeah. No shit.
Major League Rugby wants this yesterday.
Which means everyone’s scrambling, double-checking, covering their asses.
And now I’ve got to do the same.
Except I’m not guessing.
I know my work.
“Give me ten minutes,” I say.
“David, if you can get here faster—”
“I said ten.”
I hang up. Run a hand through my hair.
Exhale slow.
Not panic.
Never panic.
Because this?
This is my lane.
And I’m good at what I do.
I track everything. Every sample. Every license. Every original beat I’ve ever touched.
If there’s a flag, it’s either a mistake—or someone else got too close to my sound.
Either way?
I’ll handle it.
I always do.
Still—my gaze flicks toward the door.
Toward her room.
Hilary. My Sunshine.
Sleeping.
Soft.
Unaware.
And for a split second, I consider ignoring the call.
Staying.
Letting the world wait.
Then reality snaps back into place.
I don’t get that luxury.
Not with something like this.
Not with stakes like this.
Bella. Hilary.
I’m not dragging them out of bed for this mess.
Not yet. I’ll fix it.
Clean. Fast.
Like I always do.
I grab a shirt, pull it over my head, already moving toward the door. Already shifting back into the man I have to be out there.
Controlled.
Focused.
Untouchable.
But as my hand closes around the handle—one thought lingers.
Sharp as hell.
She’s still in bed. And I’m walking away from her.
Like she expects me to.
I pause at her door.
My hand lifts.
Almost knocks.
Almost goes back in.
Almost says something.
Explains.
But if I wake her? I won’t leave.
And I need to. Just for a little while.
I pull my phone out instead and I send a text to the Bella and Hilary group chat since this really involves her, too.
Me
Stay put. I’m sending some bodyguards and a driver to get you both here at ten. Don’t leave the room unless they’re with you.
A beat.
Then another message.
Me
There was an emergency at the studio. I’ll explain when you get here.
It’s not enough.
I know it’s not enough. But it’s all I’ve got right now.
I glance at her door one more time.
And something in my chest pulls. Hard.
Like I’m already making a mistake. Like I’m walking away from something I shouldn’t.
But I do it anyway.
Because this is my world.
Chaos. Problems. Things that need handling.
And I don’t get to pretend otherwise.
Not even for her. Not even after last night.
I head for the elevator.
Jaw tight. Mind already shifting into control mode.
But one thought lingers.
Sharp. Persistent. Dangerous.
She’s still in bed.
And whether she knows it yet or not—walking away from her?
That’s not something I’m going to get good at.
Not even a little.
And I’m gonna make sure she knows it.