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Following his guide, I fumbled for his pen holder. It spilled over his desk in my haste, but I grabbed one, bringing it to my lips and biting down while he continued lapping, nipping, and sucking on my sensitive parts.
My head lulled against the wall. “Hayes,” I moaned around the pen.
A knock sounded at the door, and I clenched, but Hayes called back, “I’m busy!”
And then, just like that, he was on me again, adding fingers this time. Filling me and teasing me until I was panting for air, fighting for any thought beyond how good he was making me feel.
And then I was tumbling over the edge, nothing existing in my mind but Hayes and the way he made my body crumble at his command like no man ever had before.
“That’s my girl,” he said, standing up and fumbling with the belt at his pants.
I barely had a chance to catch my breath before his cock was in me, and he was fucking me against the wall, holding my leg in his elbow. Bending his head next to mine, he spoke in my ear as he filled me with his cock.
It was all so overwhelming that all I could do was hold on to him, digging my fingers into his back just to keep myself upright.
“Hayes,” I moaned quietly.
“I know, baby,” he breathed into my ear. And as he filled me with an unrelenting pace, he said, “You are everything.”
“My sunshine.”
“My undoing.”
“My love.”
“My life.”
“Hayes,” I cried, on the verge of coming again.
“I love you,” he said, voice husky. “I love you so fucking much.”
And that was my undoing.
Right there.
Not just what he said, but how he showed it with every stroke into me. The careful way he held me.
The way he refused to give in to his own release until I was shattering around him, giving whatever pieces of me I’d held on to and making them wholly his.
52
HAYES
Della and her parents were coming to my place to watch their cooking show and eat dinner. I’d met them before, done work on their vehicles, but it was the first time I was meeting them as Della’s boyfriend.
I’d never been a nervous hurler, but that might change today.
My house had never looked cleaner. Even Chopper’s dog bed in the corner of the living room was clear of any stray hairs. He curled up in the bed, resting without a care in the world. Lucky bastard.
Unlike the spoiled dog, I had things to worry about, like the lemon herb chicken breasts cooking in the oven. Della said it was her parents’ favorite meal, and I wasn’t above scoring brownie points in any way possible.
Literally, considering I was currently mixing brownie batter. This was from a box because I knew I couldn’t screw that up.
A knock sounded on my door, and I called, “Come in!”
The knocking came again.
With a sigh, I set down my mixing spoon and walked over to the door to open it. Della stood holding a glass pan with two hot pink oven mitts. “Sorry,” she said. “Hands were full.”