Beautiful Player [Beautiful Series]

Chapter 10

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. I was walking—walking like I had somewhere to be. But in reality, I didn’t have to be anywhere, and I really didn’t need to be headed directly to Hanna’s apartment building.

Yeah, my place. He’s coming back, I’ll let you know how it goes.

My hands formed fists at the memory of the text—the words were burned onto my brain—and the image of her in there, with Dylan. It made my chest literally ache. And I kind of wanted to break everything I saw.

It was cold; so cold I could see my breath, and my fingertips were growing numb even shoved deep into my pockets. As soon as I got her text, I’d run out of the house, no gloves, a too-light jacket, and running shoes, no socks.

For the span of seven city blocks, I was furious with her for doing this to me. I’d been fine until she came fumbling into my life with her chatterbox mouth and mischievous eyes. I’d been fine before she pushed her way into my easy routine, and I half wanted Dylan to get the fuck out of her apartment so I could go upstairs and tell her what a pain in the ass she was, how pissed I was at her for pulling the very stable, predictable ground out from under me.

But as I approached, and saw lights on in her window, saw the shadows of bodies upright and moving around, I felt only relief that she wasn’t already prone on her bed, beneath him.

Pulling my hat farther down over my head, I growled through my teeth, looking along the street for a coffee shop, or something else to do. But there were only more apartment buildings, retail shops that had long since closed, and, in the distance, a little bar. The last thing I needed right now was alcohol. And if I was two blocks away from her apartment, then I might as well be home.

How long would I wait here? Until she texted me again? Until morning, when they emerged together, rumpled and smiling over their shared memories of the night before—of Hanna’s perfection and Dylan’s lame inexperience?

I groaned, looking up just in time to see a man leaving the apartment building, head bent into the wind, collar up. My heart tripped. It was definitely Dylan, and although my veins filled with the warm hum of relief, the fact that I could so easily recognize him from a distance made me feel like the creepiest asshole of all time. I waited to see if he was going to return, but he kept moving down the block, never slowing his pace.

That’s it, I told myself. You’ve crossed a line and need to find your way back to the other side.

But what if she needed me? I should probably stay to make sure she was okay before walking home. I stared at my phone, brows drawn. If I left here, I was going for a run. I didn’t care that it was almost eleven at night and freezing out; I was going to run for fucking miles. I was so buzzed with relief, and frustration, and nervous energy that I could barely steady my thumb long enough to click on the icon and open our text thread.

I exhaled when I saw that she was already typing something to me.

It felt like minutes, entire minutes during which I gripped my phone, staring intently and waiting for her message to appear. Finally it delivered, and instead of the paragraphs I was expecting, it said only, Where are you

I laughed, dragging my hand through my hair, and took a deep breath. OK, don’t kill me, I typed. I’m outside your apartment.

Hanna came out of the building wearing a heavy down jacket over a silky blue dress, bare legs, and Kermit the Frog slippers. She shuffled toward me and I couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, stopping in front of where I sat, perched on a fire hydrant.

“I don’t know,” I murmured. I reached for her, pulling her closer and spreading my hands over her hips.

She winced a little when I squeezed—what the fuck is going on with me?—but instead of stepping away, she leaned closer. “Will.”

“Yeah?” I asked, finally looking up at her face. She was fucking beautiful. She’d put on the smallest amount of makeup, had let her hair dry in soft, loose curls. Her eyes were heavy with the same look I’d seen when I’d been braced over her on the floor of my living room, or when I’d slid my fingers over the soft rise of her clit. When my attention focused on her mouth, her tongue peeked out, wetting her lips.

“I really need to know why you’re here.”

Shrugging, I leaned forward, resting my forehead against her collarbone. “I wasn’t sure you were really into him, and it was bothering me knowing he came back here with you.”

She slid her fingers under the collar of my jacket, stroking the back of my neck. “I think Dylan thought we were going to have sex tonight.”

Without meaning to, I dug my fingers deeper into the flesh just above her hips. “I’m sure he did,” I mumbled.

“But . . . and I don’t know how to handle this, because it should be easy, right? It should be easy to enjoy being with people I like. I mean, I find him attractive. I have fun with him! He’s nice, and thoughtful. He’s funny, and he’s good-looking.”

I remained silent, trying not to howl.

“But when he kissed me? I didn’t feel lost in him the way I get lost in you.”

Pulling back, I looked up at her face. She shrugged, looking almost apologetic. “He was nice to me tonight,” she whispered.

“Good.”

“And he didn’t even seem mad when I asked him to go.”

“Good, Hanna. If he gave you grief I swear to God—”

“Will.”

I closed my mouth, calmed by her interruption, and waiting to hear what she needed. I would do anything she wanted, even if she asked me to crawl. If she asked me to leave, I would. If she asked me to help her zip her jacket, I’d do that, too.

“Come upstairs with me?”

My heart climbed into my throat. I watched her for a few seconds more, but she didn’t take it back by breaking eye contact, or laughing at herself. She just studied me, waiting for my answer. I stood, and she moved back to give me space, but not too much space, because I was almost pressed against her once I was upright. She ran her hands down my sides, letting them come to rest on my hips.

“If I go up with you . . .” I started.

She was already nodding. “I know.”

“I don’t know if I can be slow.”

Her eyes darkened and she pressed against me. “I know.”

A light was out on one side of the elevator, casting the space in a strange half shadow. Hanna leaned into the corner, watching me from where she stood at the dark end.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. Always such a little scientist, trying to dissect me.

I was thinking everything: wanting everything, and panicking, wondering if I was cutting the last thread of control I had over my emotions. I was thinking about what I was going to do to this woman when we got up to her bed. “A lot of things.”

Even in the shadows, I could see her smile. “You want to be more specific?”

“I don’t like that that guy came up to your apartment tonight.”

She tilted her head, assessing me. “I thought that was part of dating. Sometimes guys will come up to my apartment.”

“I get that,” I murmured. “But you did ask what I was thinking. I’m telling you.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“I’m sure he is. He can be a nice guy who doesn’t get to kiss you.”

She stood up a little straighter. “Are you jealous?”

I stared at her, nodded.

“Of Dylan?”

“I don’t relish the thought of anyone else having you.”

“But all this time you’re still seeing Kitty and Kristy.”

I didn’t bother to correct her yet. “What were you thinking when you were with him tonight?”

Her smile faded a little. “I was mostly thinking about you. Wondering if you were with someone.”

“I wasn’t with anyone tonight.”

This seemed to throw her and she fell silent for what felt like forever. We reached her floor, the doors opened, hovered, and then closed with a small ding. The elevator car fell quiet and wouldn’t move again until it was called.

“Why?” she asked. “It’s Saturday. That’s your night with Kristy.”

“Why do you even know that?” I asked, tamping down the white-hot frustration with whoever told her this information. “And I was with you the last two Saturdays.”

She looked down at her feet, thinking for a beat, and then back at me. “Tonight, I thought about what I wanted you to do to me,” she said, adding, “and what I wanted to do to you. And how I didn’t want any of those things with Dylan.”

I took a step closer into the darkness, ran a hand up her side and over the curve of her breast. “Tell me what you want now. Tell me what you’re ready for me to do.”

I could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed faster. I ran the pad of my thumb over the tight peak of her nipple.

“You go down on me,” she said, voice shaking a little. “You do it until I come.”

“Obviously,” I whispered, laughing a little. “When I do it, you’ll come more than once.”

Her lips parted, and she wrapped her hand around my wrist, pressing my palm more firmly against her breast. “You lean over me on the couch, jerking off, and come on my chest.”

I was already so hard and fuck, that was a good visual. “What else?”

Shaking her head, she finally shrugged and looked away. “Everything else. Sex in all kinds of places on my body. How you like me to bite you, and how good it feels to do it. We’re having sex and I’m doing everything you want and it isn’t just good for me, it’s good for you, too.”

I lost my words for a beat, surprised by this. “Does that worry you? That I’m somehow humoring you?”

She looked up, met my eyes. “Of course, Will.”

I stepped even closer so I was pressed against her and she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. Angling my hips, I pushed the rigid shape of my erection into her stomach.

“Hanna. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted something more than I want you. I really don’t think I have,” I said. “I think about just kissing you, for fucking hours. Do you know that kind of kissing? Where it’s enough for so long you don’t even think of doing anything else?”

She shook her head, breath coming out against my neck in short, sharp bursts.

“I don’t know about that kind of kissing, either, because I’ve never wanted just that before.”

Hanna slid her hands under my jacket and beneath my shirt. Her hands were warm, and the muscles of my abdomen jumped and tensed beneath her fingers.

“I think about having you spread over my face,” I said. “And taking you on the floor just inside my apartment because I can’t wait long enough to get us anywhere more comfortable. I don’t want to be with anyone else lately, and it means I spend an awful lot of time going for runs at random hours, or with my hand on my own dick wishing it was yours instead.”

“Let’s get out of the elevator,” she said, pushing me gently through the opening doors and into the hallway.

She fumbled slightly with the key to her place and my hands shook as I reached for her sides, ran my palms from her waist to her hips. It took every ounce of self-control I had left to not take it from her and shove it into the lock myself.

When she finally got the door open, I pushed her inside, slamming it closed behind us and pressing her into the wall just a few steps in. I bent, sucking her neck, her jaw, running my hands under the skirt of her dress to feel the smooth skin of her thighs.

“You’re going to have to tell me to stop if I move too fast.”

Her hands shook as she slid them into my hair, dug her nails into my scalp. “I won’t.”

I kissed up her chin to her mouth, sucking and licking, tasting every millimeter of her soft lips and sweet hungry tongue. I wanted her to lick me, suck marks into my chest and feel the bite of her teeth on my hips, my thighs, my fingers. I felt a little like a criminal unchained, sucking and biting at her, stepping away from her only long enough to pull our jackets off, tug my own shirt over my head, unzip her dress, and push it to the floor. With a flick of my fingers her bra came undone and she shrugged out of it, stepping into my arms. Her breasts pressed against my skin and I just wanted to rub on her, wild and fucking inside her already.

She pushed me back, taking my hand and leading me down the hall to her bedroom, throwing me a little smile over her shoulder.

Her room was tidy, sparse. A king bed was positioned against one wall, which, other than Hanna, was basically all I saw. She stood in only her panties, hair loose and soft around her shoulders as she looked from my chest, up my neck, to my face.

The room seemed to tick in the silence.

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” she said, hands running up my stomach and then lightly tickling through the hair on my chest. She traced the patterns of the tattoo on my left shoulder, trailed her fingers down my arm. “God, it feels like I’ve been thinking about this forever. But actually having you here . . . I’m nervous.”

“You have no reason to be nervous.”

“It helps me when you tell me what to do,” she admitted in a small voice.

I cupped her breast, lifting it and bending my head to suck the tight peak into my mouth. She gasped, hands sliding into my hair. I smiled into a sharp bite at the full curve below her nipple. “You could start by taking off my pants.”

She unfastened my belt, tugged the buttons free on my jeans. I’d grown obsessed with the memory of the way her hands shook when she was excited like this, a little nervous, too. I studied her almost-naked body in the dim street light filtering in from outside: her neck and breasts, the dip of her waist, curved hips and long, soft legs. I reached forward, ran two fingers down her navel and between her thighs, gliding over the fabric of her underwear.

Sliding a knuckle beneath the lace and through the heady slickness there, I whispered, “I love your skin, love feeling your wet.”

“Step out of your pants,” she said, coyly. “You can touch me all night.”

I blinked, realizing my jeans were pooled around my ankles and I stood only in my boxers. She hadn’t taken those off; whether she was nervous still, or just wanted one more chance to remove something, it was all fine with me. I pulled my feet free and walked her backward to her bed, urging her down. She inched back, pushing toward the headboard as I crawled over her. Hanna’s gray eyes were wide and clear—my thrilled, breathless prey.

Her panties were light blue, accentuating the creamy color of her skin, making her look like she was made of blown glass. Only the tiny freckle on her navel hinted that she was even remotely real.

“Did you wear these for him?” I asked before my brain had time to think better of it.

She looked down at the lace, and I moved my eyes up to her full, plump breasts as she said, “I didn’t even let him take my shirt off. So, I don’t think I wore them for him.”

I kissed down her belly to the elastic hem of her underwear. Hanna had never been timid, or flighty, but this was all new. She was propped on her elbows, watching. Beneath where I was braced over her, she was trembling, her heart beating so fast I could see the trip of her pulse in her neck. This didn’t feel like our standard game of How to Play Sexbomb, didn’t have that veneer. This felt too real, and Hanna looked too perfect lying almost naked in front of me. I’d kick my own ass for an eternity if I ever fucked this up. “Well, then I’ll pretend that you wore them for me.”

“Maybe I did.”

I pulled at the elastic with my teeth, releasing it with a sharp snap against her hip. “And I’ll pretend that whether you’re naked or clothed, you’re always thinking about me.”

She looked up at me, gray eyes wide and searching. “Lately, I think I am. Does that worry you?”

Looking up the length of her body, I asked, “Why would it worry me?”

“I know what this is about, Will. I don’t expect you to be anything you’re not.”

I had no idea what she meant; in truth I had no idea what this could or couldn’t be, and for once I didn’t want to define it before it even started. Inching up so my face hovered just over hers, I bent to kiss her, whispering, “I don’t know where to start.”

I felt wild and a little rough, wanting to eat her and fuck her and feel those lips around me. I had a flash of fear that this was all a fleeting moment, a single night, and I had to find a way to condense everything into a few hours. “I’m not going to let you sleep.”

Her eyes widened, and she gave me a tiny smile. “I don’t want to sleep.” Tilting her head, she said, “And start with the first thing I told you in the elevator.”

I kissed my way down her neck, chest, ribs, stomach. Every inch of her was tight and smooth and twitching under my lips, wanting. She never closed her eyes, never once. I’d been with women who watched, but it had never felt like this, so fucking intimate and connected.

As I got closer to the space between her legs, I could see her muscles tense, heard her breath hitch. I turned my head, sucked on her inner thigh. “I’m going to lose my fucking mind with my mouth on you.”

“Will, tell me what to do,” she said, her voice tight. “I’ve never . . .”

“I know. You’re perfect,” I told her. “You like watching?”

She nodded.

“Why, Plum? Why do you watch everything I do?”

She hesitated, holding back some truth in a little swallow. “You know how to . . .” She let the words trail away, ending the thought with a one-shouldered shrug.

“You mean you like to watch me because I know how to make you come?”

She nodded again, eyes widening as I pulled at her panties, sliding them down over her hips.

“You can make yourself come with your hand. Do you watch your hand when you touch yourself?”

“No.”

I pulled her underwear the rest of the way down her legs, tossing them behind me and onto the floor before returning to the stretch of mattress between her spread legs.

“You have a vibrator?”

She nodded, eyes dazed.

“That can make you come. Does looking at your vibrator make you this wet?” I dipped a finger inside, raising myself up and over her again, slipping the same fingertip into her mouth. She moaned, sucking hard and pulling me closer to kiss her instead. Her lips tasted like sex and heat and, fuck, I wanted to taste her directly. “Is it because you like watching me do this to you?”

“Will . . .”

“Don’t go shy on me now.” I kissed her, sucking on her bottom lip. “Are you being a little engineer, watching the mechanics of how a man would lick your pussy? Or is it the image of my mouth doing it?”

She ran her hands down my chest and wrapped them around my cock through my boxers, giving me a slow, hard squeeze. “I like watching you.”

Groaning, I managed to say, “I like when you watch me. I can’t think straight when you have those crazy gray eyes on me.”

“Please . . .”

“Now let go so you can watch my mouth.”

“Will,” she said, voice shaking.

“Yeah?”

“After this? Please don’t break me.”

I paused, searching her expression. She’d sounded scared, but her face was only hunger.

“I won’t,” I said, kissing down her neck, over her breasts, sucking, nipping. I moved farther down her body, and her thighs shook as I pushed them apart, blowing a soft stream of air across her heated flesh.

She propped herself up on her elbows again, and I gave her one more smile before dipping my head and opening my mouth over her sweet slide of skin. My eyes rolled closed at the heat of her, and I groaned, sucking gently.

With a shaky cry, her head fell back, hips arching from the bed. “Oh God.”

I smiled into her, licking up one side and down the other before covering her clit with my tongue, circling over and over and over.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I added my fingers, sliding them lower to where she was wettest and sweetest, and the heavy drag of my touch as I pushed two fingers into her caused her to fall back, reach blindly for the headboard. As I watched, she turned her head, pulled the pillowcase between her teeth, tugging. Tiny sounds of pleading misery and pleasure slipped from her lips and I did everything I could to not let up on the intensity of it for a single fucking second.

She was right there, hovering at the edge. Fucking her with two fingers, I pushed them deep, sucking her so hard my cheeks hollowed, staring up the length of her body at her fucking perfect breasts and long neck. With a twist of my wrist, she arched off the mattress, pushing into my mouth. Hanna let out a cry again and again as she contracted around my fingers.

One.

I was so hard I was practically fucking the mattress, and I could feel the tightening of the tendons in her thighs, relished the way her sounds became strained and higher and her hands reached down, threading into my hair and fuck, she started to rock into me, legs wide and hips fast, unself-consciously fucking my face for several long, perfect minutes. Oral sex had never felt so much like fucking as it did with this woman, and I gave into it, wild and wide open, roughly devouring her.

With a cry she came again, sweet and hot, her hands pulling so hard on my scalp I thought I might come right along with her. I couldn’t close my eyes, couldn’t for one second look away from the sight above me on the bed. I sucked and sucked on the silk of her skin, completely fucking lost in the feel of her.

“Please,” she gasped, legs shaking and eyes as dark and heavy as I’d ever seen them. She pushed up on one elbow, leaving the other pulling at my hair. “Come up here.”

I pushed my boxers down, dragging the weight of my cock against her leg as I slid up her body, tasting, licking the dip of her belly button, the rise of her breasts, the tight pull of her nipples.

I wanted to fuck every part of her: the valley between her breasts and the sweet fullness of her mouth, her round backside, and her soft, capable hands. But right now I wanted only to slide into the warmth of her sex. Her legs spread wider as she reached for her bedside table, for a box of condoms. I stared at the flush blooming across her chest, absently pulling along the length of my cock, until I registered she was extending the box to me.

“Let’s just start with one.” I chuckled.

Pushing the box into my hand, she nodded, eyes wide and pleading.

“So get one out,” I growled.

“I don’t know how to put it on,” she whined sweetly, fingers fumbling to open the packaging. She opened it messily, cardboard ripping wide open, and a snake of condoms spilled out onto her stomach.

I tore a single packet from the train and handed it to her, pushing the others onto the bed beside her. “It’s not complicated. Take it out, roll it down my dick.”

Her hands shook, and I hoped it was anticipation rather than nerves but I was quickly relieved when she reached for me, hungrily, and covered the head of my cock with latex.

But I knew immediately it was on the wrong way; it wouldn’t unroll.

She realized it after several painful seconds, tossing it away with a little growl and a “damnit!” before grabbing another packet.

I was hard and swollen and so fucking ready I could feel my teeth grinding as she pulled the second condom out, studying it closely, and this time put it on the right way. Her hands were warm and her face was so close to my cock, I could feel her excited breath on my thighs.

I needed to fuck her.

She unrolled it awkwardly, fingers too tentative and light, and the whole process seemed to take an eternity. She slid it over me in tiny increments as if I were made of glass and not about to fuck her so hard the bed would drop into the apartment below us.

When she reached the base of my cock, she exhaled in relief, lying back and pushing her hips to me. But with an evil smile, I pulled the condom off and tossed it away.

Gritting my teeth through my agony, I told her, “Again. Don’t be so tentative. Put the condom on my dick so I can fuck you.”

She stared up at me, silver eyes full of confusion. And finally, they cleared as if she’d been able to hear my thoughts: I don’t want you to have a single second of uncertainty. I am as hard as I have ever been in my life, I just sucked your pussy until you were screaming, and I’m not fucking delicate.

With her eyes on mine, she lifted the package to her teeth, tore it open, and pulled out the roll of latex. Feeling the shape, she turned it in her hand, rolled it down my length smoothly, quickly, giving me a rough squeeze at the base. She slid her hand down lower, pulled gently on my balls, and then slid her hand to my inner thigh.

“Good?” she whispered, stroking the sensitive skin there, no smile, no frown, simply needing to know.

I nodded, reaching to run my thumb over her cheek. “You’re perfect.”

With a relieved smile she leaned back and I followed, sliding through the heat of her sex, teasing her, teasing myself, and fuck, I was dizzy with how much I wanted her. My hips were tense, ready to arch and thrust, spine already itching with the need to explode inside this woman.

I was unprepared for the feeling of my bare chest fully over hers, her thighs slipping around my hips. It was too much. Hanna was too much.

“Put me inside you.”

She gasped, slipping her hand between us; I hadn’t given her much space. I was lying heavily on her, warm skin to warm skin, but she found me, guided me up until I could feel the dip of her entrance, and then she led me higher, slipping and teasing my cock over the slick rise of her clit, the soft warm folds of her sex.

“I might be rough.”

She exhaled a burst of air, breathlessly telling me, “Good. Good.”

Pushing onto my hands, I watched as she rubbed me over her skin. Her eyes fell closed and a small moan slipped from her. “It’s just . . . it’s been a while,” she whispered.

I pulled my eyes up to her face, watching her lick her lips, her lashes flutter open so she could look down at the space between us, watch herself play with me.

“How long?” I asked.

She blinked back up at me again, her hand stilling between us. “About three years.” Her forehead wrinkled slightly as she said, “I’ve had sex with five guys but probably only had sex about eight times. I really don’t know what I’m doing, Will.”

I swallowed, bending to kiss her jaw. “Maybe I won’t be so rough then,” I whispered, but she laughed, shaking her head.

“I don’t want you to be gentle, either.”

I looked at her breasts, her belly, where she held me between her legs. I wanted to feel her bare skin on my cock. I’d never in my life had sex without a condom and wanted to feel her so much it hardened me further. “I’ll make it good,” I spoke into the skin of her neck. “Just let me feel you.”

Hanna jerked beneath me, pressing me into her opening, her eyes fluttering closed as I shifted forward.

A hot flush crawled up her neck and her lips parted in a sweet sigh. It was overwhelming for me to watch her process what we were about to do, and I could see the moment when it happened, when it really hit her that we were about to have sex. She opened her eyes again, and her gaze fell to my lips and went softer, calmed momentarily from the frenzy. She ran her hands up my chest and cupped my neck, whispering, “Hey.”

That look, that tenderness in her eyes, made me realize for the first time what was happening to me: I was falling in love.

“Hey,” I rasped, bending to kiss her.

It was a relief so enormous it wrung the air from my lungs, and I deepened the kiss, wondering whether she could feel from my touch that I had just put a name to what we were doing—making love—or if she simply tasted her sex on my tongue, and didn’t understand that my entire world had just spun free of its programmed orbit.

I pulled my face back but pushed my hips forward, aching to feel the softness of her body fully pressed to mine; I just wanted to get inside her and stay deep.

Fuck.

Good, hot, holy fuuuck.

She looked up at me as I slid deeper, but she no longer seemed to be able to see my face. Her eyes were glazed, overwhelmed, and tiny little inward gasps accompanied her every inhale. A tight twinge of pain passed over her face. I was only a few inches in, and it was tight, but it was so fucking good.

I heard my own voice come out but it sounded faraway: “Open up for me, Plum. Move with me.”

Hanna relaxed, lifting her legs higher up her sides so I slid in deeper, and we both let out a taut moan. She gave her hips an experimental roll, pulling me fully inside, and the sensation of her warm thighs pressed to my hips caused me to let out a loud grunt.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispered, stilling below me.

“I know.” I kissed her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her lips.

She nodded, pushing up, unconsciously telling me with her body that she needed me to move.

I pulled back, starting an easy rhythm, getting lost in the feel of her warmth. I would pick up my pace, sucking savagely on her neck, growing wild and heated and then slow, and eventually stop, kissing her deeply, relishing the way her hands explored my back, my ass, my arms, my face.

“You okay?” I asked, moving—but slowly—again. “Not too sore?”

“I’m good,” she whispered, turning into my hand when I swept some damp hair off her forehead.

“You look so fucking perfect under me.”

I wanted to build the need in her, make her go off like a bomb when she finally came with me inside her like this. She started to shake when I sped up, but growled in tight frustration when I slowed again. But I knew she trusted me, and I wanted to show her how fucking good it could be if there was no rush, no need to do anything but this for hours, and hours.

I kissed her, sucked on her tongue, stole every one of her sounds into my mouth, swallowing them like a greedy fucking bastard. I loved her hoarse noises, how often she said please, how much she let me drive what we were doing. The reality of her, sweaty and pliable beneath me, ate away at my calm, and I shifted from lazy pushing into quicker, hungrier thrusts. She answered with mirrored movements of her hips, arching into me, and I knew this time she was close and I couldn’t stop or slow.

“Feel good?” I ground out, pressing my face to her neck.

She nodded, unable to answer, hands gripping my ass and fingernails digging sharply in my flesh. I pulled her leg up, pushing her knee to her shoulder and let go, fucking her as fast and hard and close to her body as I could.

It was wild, unreal, explosive the way her orgasm built beneath her skin first as a flush, and then a tightening of her muscles until she was shaking, and sweaty and begging unintelligible words beneath me, preparing to come.

“That’s it,” I whispered, struggling to hold back my own release even as it itched low in my belly. “Fuck, Plum, you’re right there . . .”

I watched her eyes squeeze closed, her mouth open, and her body bow off the bed as she screamed in climax. I moved through it, giving her every single second of pleasure I could possible wring from her body.

Her arms fell away, leaden, and I propped myself up on my hands, looking down at where I moved in her, feeling her eyes on my face.

“Will,” she exhaled, and I heard the languid glee in her voice. “My God.”

“Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so wet.”

She reached up, slid her finger into my mouth so I could taste her sweetness. I moved one hand between us, rubbing her clit, knowing she was going to be sore soon, but needing to feel her come around me one more time.

After only a few minutes she arched, hips rocking faster with me. “Will . . . I . . .”

“Shh,” I whispered, watching my hand move over her, my cock slide in and out. “Give me one more.”

I closed my eyes, my mind diving down into pure sensation: her quivering thighs all around me, the rhythmic tightening of her pussy as she came again with a hoarse, surprised cry. I cut the last chain of my self-control, hitting deeper and harder, prolonging her release with my thumb pressed to her clit. Hanna’s head was thrown back into the pillow, hands on my ass, pulling me forward while she rocked up into me. Her eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted, and all around her head, her hair was a wild mess on her pillow. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

She dragged her nails up my back, watching my face, fascinated. The sensation was too much: her rough touch, soft body beneath, and her wide-eyed, fascinated study.

“Tell me it feels good,” she whispered, lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed, hair matted with sweat.

“So good,” I hissed in a rush. “I can’t . . . I can’t fucking think straight.”

Her nails pushed down, in a rough pinch and in a flash I knew with the pain of her nails and sweet pleasure of her body wet and squeezing me, I wasn’t going to last. Pleasure flooded my veins, hot and frantic.

“Harder,” I begged.

She curled into me, biting down my shoulder to my chest. “Come,” she gasped, dragging her nails possessively down my back. “I want to feel you come.”

It was as if I’d been plugged into an outlet, every inch of my skin alive and buzzing with heat. I stared down at her: breasts moving with the force of my thrusts, skin sweaty and perfect, angry red bite marks from my teeth all over her neck, shoulders, and jaw. But when I looked up and met her eyes, I lost it. She was staring at me and it was her—Hanna, this girl I saw every morning and fell in love with a little bit more every single time she opened her mouth.

It was so fucking real. With a loud shout, I collapsed on her, bucking wildly and flooded with a pleasure so intense I barely registered the warmth of her arms around my shoulders, the press of her kiss to my neck when I stilled on top of her, or the way she whispered, “Stay on top of me like this forever.”

“Don’t ever stop being so fucking open,” I murmured, pulling my gaze to her face. “Don’t stop asking for what you want.”

“I won’t,” she whispered. “I got you tonight, didn’t I?”

And just that simply, I was claimed.