Page 46 of Bad Luck, Hard Love (Heaven’s Rejects MC #6)
I sink to my knees on the weathered deck, the warm wood pressing against my skin as I look up at him through my lashes. His eyes widen, darkening with desire as I take him in my hands, feeling him pulse against my palms.
“Charlotte, you don't have to?—”
“Let me show you what you mean to me.”
I take him into my mouth slowly, savoring the feel of him on my tongue, the soft groan that escapes his lips.
His fingers thread gently through my hair, not guiding, just connecting.
I lose myself in the act of pleasuring him, of giving back some fragment of the tenderness he's shown me these past months.
“Jesus,” he breathes above me. “Heart of saint, mouth of a fucking sinner, sweetheart.”
I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, my hands gripping his thighs for balance.
The ocean roars in the background, matching the thunder of my heartbeat.
This isn't about submission or control—it's about choice.
My choice to worship his body the way he's worshipped mine. To reclaim intimacy on my terms.
His muscles tense beneath my fingers as I find a rhythm that makes his breathing ragged.
I glance up to see his head thrown back, throat exposed to the morning sun, vulnerability written across his features.
The sight emboldens me, and I redouble my efforts, drawing sounds from him I never knew he could make.
The power I hold in this moment is intoxicating—not the cruel power Terrance wielded over me, but something sacred. Something given freely between equals.
I work him with my mouth and hands in tandem, feeling his thighs quiver under my touch. My tongue traces the underside of his shaft, swirling around the sensitive head before taking him deep again. His fingers tighten in my hair, not painfully, just enough to let me know he's close.
“Charlotte,” he warns. “I'm going to?—”
I look up as I take him deeper, and that connection—that moment of raw vulnerability between us—pushes him over the edge. He pulses against my tongue, and I swallow everything he gives me, holding him steady as he shudders through his release.
When I finally pull away, he drops to his knees in front of me, cupping my face in his hands like I'm something precious.
“I love you,” he says, the words simple and devastating in their honesty. “God, Charlotte, I love you so fucking much.”
It's not the first time he's said it, but it hits differently now—here in the open air with nothing between us but sunlight. No shadows to hide in, no walls to protect us. Just truth, naked as our bodies.
“I love you, too. More than I thought possible.”
His mouth claims mine, tasting himself on my tongue as he lifts me effortlessly. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to the cushioned lounge chair, lowering me onto the soft surface with reverent care. The fabric is warm against my back, heated by the morning sun.
“My turn,” he growls.
His palms slide up my thighs, pushing them further apart as he settles between them.
I feel exposed, vulnerable, but the hunger in his eyes dissolves any lingering self-consciousness.
His thumbs trace delicate circles on my inner thighs, moving higher with each pass but never quite reaching where I need him most.
“Soren,” I plead, arching my hips toward him. “Don't tease.”
He smiles, wicked and slow. “After what you just did to me? I'm going to take my time with you.”
His mouth follows the path of his hands, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my thighs. The gentle scrape of his stubble against sensitive skin sends shivers through my body. I thread my fingers through his hair, not guiding, just needing to touch him as his lips move higher.
The first swipe of his tongue draws a gasp from my throat. He groans against me, the vibration against my center making me moan even louder. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as his tongue explores every inch of me, discovering what makes me gasp, what makes me writhe, what makes me beg.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against my slick flesh, his breath hot and teasing.
I whimper as he slides one thick finger inside me, curling it forward to find that spot that makes my vision blur. My hips buck against his mouth, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of everything he's giving me.
“That's it, baby,” he encourages, adding a second finger alongside the first. The stretch is delicious, a fullness that has me panting. “Let go for me.”
His tongue circles my clit while his fingers work me from the inside. The dual sensation is overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once. My thighs begin to tremble as pressure builds at the base of my spine, coiling tighter with each stroke of his tongue.
“Soren,” I gasp, my head thrashing against the cushion. “I'm close—I'm so close.”
He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my core.
His free hand slides up my body to cup my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple in time with the movements of his tongue.
The added stimulation pushes me toward the edge, my body tensing as the coil inside me winds impossibly tight.
When I finally shatter, it's with his name on my lips. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, my back arching off the lounge chair as he works me through it, never relenting until the last tremor subsides and I'm boneless beneath him.
But he's not done with me yet.
He rises above me, his body blocking the sun like an eclipse. I'm still quivering from my release when I feel him hard against my entrance again. He watches me as he positions himself, silently asking permission.
“Please,” I beg, reaching for him. “I need you inside me.”
He enters me with agonizing slowness, stretching me around his thickness until he's seated fully within me. We both groan at the sensation, perfect and overwhelming. He stills, giving me time to adjust, his forehead pressed against mine as we share the same breath.
“You feel like home.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. “Move. Please.”
He withdraws almost completely before driving back in, setting a rhythm that has me clinging to his shoulders.
The lounge chair creaks beneath us, the sound almost drowned out by the crash of waves and our mingled moans.
His muscles flex beneath my palms as he supports his weight above me, careful not to crush me even in his passion.
His thrusts grow deeper, more insistent, his breath hot against my neck as he buries his face in the curve of my shoulder.
The ocean air swirls around us, cooling our sweat-slicked skin as we move together.
“Look at me,” he commands softly. “I want to see you.”
I open my eyes to find his gaze locked on mine.
The intimacy is almost too much—being seen so completely, so deeply.
For a moment, I feel the instinct to hide, to retreat behind the walls I built during the years with Terrance.
But Soren anchors me to the present, to this moment of perfect connection.
“Stay with me. Right here. Just us.”
I nod, cupping his face in my hands as he continues to move inside me. The rhythm changes, slower now but more deliberate, each thrust hitting exactly where I need him. My body responds instantly, tightening around him as another climax builds.
“That's it. One more for me, Charlotte. I want to feel you come around me.”
His thumb finds my clit, circling in time with his thrusts, and the dual sensation sends me spiraling. This orgasm builds differently from the first—deeper, more intense, starting at my core and radiating outward until every nerve ending sings.
When I come undone, it's with a cry that carries across the empty beach.
My body convulses around him, walls clenching and pulsing as waves of pleasure crash through me.
Soren groans, his rhythm faltering as my release triggers his own.
His hips stutter against mine, and I feel him throb inside me, spilling himself deep.
He collapses beside me on the lounge chair. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against his sweat-slicked chest as we both struggle to catch our breath. The ocean continues its steady rhythm below us, indifferent to the small miracle that just occurred on our deck.
“That was...” I trail off, unable to find words adequate enough.
“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to my temple. “It was.”
We lie tangled together, the morning sun warming our cooling skin. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my hip, and I feel the steady thump of his heart against my back. In this moment, Terrance feels like a distant nightmare.
“I can hear you thinking,” Soren murmurs against my hair.
I turn in his arms to face him, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips. “Good thoughts. I promise.”
“Care to share?”
I was just thinking that I'm finally free. Not just from Terrance, but from the fear that kept me prisoner long after I escaped him.”
Soren's hand slides up my side, tracing the curve of my breast with reverent fingers. “You were never broken, Charlotte. Just bent. And now you're straightening out, becoming who you were always meant to be.”
His touch ignites me again, sparking desire in places still sensitive from our lovemaking. I arch into his palm as he cups my breast, his thumb circling my nipple until it pebbles beneath his touch.
“Already?” I smile, feeling him harden against my thigh.
His smile is wolfish, hungry. “Always. For you. Gotta lot of time to make up for, sweetheart.”
In one fluid motion, he shifts our positions, pulling me on top of him. I settle my knees on either side of his hips, guiding him to my entrance when the lounge chair gives an ominous creak. Before either of us can react, the wooden frame splinters beneath our combined weight.
We crash onto the deck in a tangle of limbs and cushions, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. For a heartbeat, we freeze in shock, until Soren rumbles a laugh from deep in his chest.