Page 34 of Don’t Say You’re Sorry (Hawthorne University #2)

ADAM

T he bastard wouldn’t give me the remote back. He’s been torturing me with the plug all night, increasing the speed, turning it off, and then turning it on again ten seconds later. I don’t know how I’ve managed not to come in my jeans.

I could go to the bathroom and remove the plug, but that would be cheating. I asked for this, after all. I handed him the remote knowing he’d use it to make me suffer. I’m not backing out now. Not when I’m this close to the finish line.

As if he can sense my train of thought, he cocks his head at me, his hand in his pocket.

The toy in my ass starts vibrating even faster, and I squeeze my legs together, clamping my lips shut to stop myself from moaning.

My dick is painfully hard, tucked up beneath my waistband and hidden under the hem of his T-shirt.

Every time I move, I can feel his cum between my ass cheeks and the insides of my thighs.

“You okay, cutie?” Megan asks, side-eyeing me.

I hum, not looking at her.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“Nope. Not sick.”

“You better not be lying. Because if I catch it, I’m coming for your ass.”

“Great choice of words, Megan,” I mutter, grateful she can’t hear me over the music.

“Look, obviously there’s something going on with you. You can go home if you want. I’ll cover for you.”

I shake my head, giving her a grateful smile. “I’m good. Really. Thanks, though.”

I want nothing more than to get Easton home as soon as possible, but I’m not about to leave my first official shift early and risk getting fired. I like this job, and I want to keep it. Besides that, I’m trying to prove myself to Easton.

Only ninety minutes to go. I can do this.

I can’t do this.

Ninety-seven minutes later, I’m ready to explode. As soon as Megan and I finish closing up, I all but run out the door, finding Easton standing on the sidewalk waiting for me. He’s grinning like a fool. Even with how worked up I am, I can’t help grinning too.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“They don’t call me sunshine for nothing,” he jokes.

I huff a laugh, then hit him with a half-hearted glare. I better be the only one who calls him that. “Who’s they ?”

“Jealous?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles and leads the way to my car, his pace quicker than usual. I walk just as quickly, eager to get home.

“You okay to drive?”

I nod and pull my seat belt on. “Just don’t turn the plug on while I’m—” I look down at his open hand, taking the remote from him with a small, knowing smile. Of course he wouldn’t do anything to distract me while I’m driving.

“Where’s Carter?” I ask.

“He left a couple hours ago.”

“Who did he leave with?”

“No one. He went home alone.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just he doesn’t seem like the type to leave the club without at least one guy on his arm. I heard he takes two home with him sometimes.”

He lifts a brow.

I shrug. “Xavi’s got a big mouth.”

The drive home feels like it takes forever.

When we finally get back to the house, he snatches the remote back and takes me up to his room, shoving me down on his bed and crawling on top of me, his face close to mine.

He pins my wrists down on either side of my head, and I drop my gaze to his mouth, wishing he would kiss me.

He doesn’t.

“Please,” I say quietly.

“No.”

I swallow. “Why not?”

He narrows his eyes, and I know he’s thinking about the same thing I am. Four years ago, when we were together, I told him something I now wish I hadn’t.

We were on his bed at home, in the same position we are now. Axel had gone back to college after Christmas break, our parents were asleep, and I had Easton all to myself again. It felt like a crushing weight had been lifted off my chest.

“What do you want?” he asks between his kisses, his mouth dipping down to the crook of my neck. “Want me to tie you up? Or ? —”

“No,” I interrupt, palming his face and pulling his mouth back to mine. “I don’t want to fuck tonight. I want this.”

“You want me to kiss you?”

I nod, looping my arms around his neck.

“Why?” he asks against my lips. He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed, just curious.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but this is Easton. I could tell him anything, and he’d never judge me or make fun of me for it.

“Because when you kiss me, it feels like I can breathe again.” His mouth never leaves mine, our tongues swirling together, but I know he’s listening intently. “My thoughts just…run away from me. Nothing and nobody else matters. They don’t even exist. It’s just you and me.”

His mouth stretches into a smile as he runs his nails over my scalp.

“Just you and me, baby.”

I blink at the sound of his rough voice, returning to the present. That’s the exact same thing he said to me that night four years ago.

He’s still staring at me, and I’m still staring at his mouth, waiting for something he’s not about to give me.

“Turn around.”

I roll onto my front. He opens his nightstand drawer, taking out the tie he stole from me.

“Hands behind your back.”

I obey, and he meticulously ties my wrists together, driving me crazy. Once he’s finished, he straddles me, sits on my thighs, and admires his handiwork, his hands running up my sides. I shiver, turning my head to try to see him.

“If you don’t fuck me this time— and let me come—I’m moving back to London.” The joke is a risk, but to my delight, it pays off. In the corner of my eye, he smiles wickedly.

“Try it,” he murmurs, leaning over me and wrapping his hand around my throat. “I’ll chase you, and I’ll catch you this time. You’re not getting away from me again, baby.”

I nod, reveling in his possessiveness.

“I’m gonna fuck you bare,” he says, reaching into the drawer to grab the lube. “Okay?”

“Yes,” I rasp.

My heart hammers as he pulls my jeans off, his palms gliding over my ankles, my calves, and the backs of my thighs.

His thumbs spread my ass cheeks, and then he’s tugging on the base of the plug, removing it and tossing it to the side.

I hear him spit right before something wet and cold hits my inner thighs.

I’m wearing nothing but his T-shirt, covered in his saliva and cum, and it makes me feel both filthy and hot as fuck.

It makes me feel like his.

He grabs the lube, and then his wet fingers are at my entrance.

He circles my hole a few times before he fingers me, scissoring me open.

Trapped beneath him and unable to move, my nails dig into my palms, and I curl my toes.

I don’t want to rush this, but I want his dick inside me now .

I don’t want to give him time to change his mind.

“What’s wrong? You need more prep?” he asks.

“No. I’m ready.”

“It’s been a long time,” he reminds me. “It might hurt a bit.”

“Good. I want it to hurt. I want to feel you every time I move tomorrow.”

His fingers pause inside me before he pulls them out. “Bend your knees and spread your legs.”

I curse and maneuver myself until I’m where he wants me. Ass up, my cheek smushed against the pillow, my wrists tied behind my back. He’s going to ruin my insides in this position. I can’t fucking wait.

He takes his clothes off—slowly, the bastard—and then he’s on top of me again, his hand closing around the back of my neck as he rubs my hole with the tip of his cock.

“Remember what I taught you? Relax.”

Ah, God. I don’t know if I can.

Still, I do as he says, slowly breathing in and out while I unclench my muscles one by one. He smooths his hand over my shoulders, murmuring gentle words of praise and encouragement.

“Easton,” I plead.

He doesn’t make me wait any longer. He enters me slowly, ensuring I feel every inch of his dick as he stretches me, filling me up.

“Fuck. Fuck .”

“You okay?”

“I’m good,” I rush to assure him. “So good.”

Still, he slows down even more, allowing me time to get used to the size and feel of him. Once he’s fully inside me, he pauses, his fingers clutching my waist and neck.

I wait. And wait. But he doesn’t move. Not a muscle.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” he mutters. “I’m trying not to come.”

I laugh, and he groans, smacking my ass. I yelp and clamp my lips shut.

“You ready?” he asks.

I nod fast. He begins fucking me slowly, rocking his hips back and forth. His hands clutch my waist as he adjusts his angle slightly, finding my sweet spot with ease. I whimper, burying my face into the pillow.

“Don’t do that,” he says, lifting my head up by my hair. “Let me hear you.”

“What if they hear me?”

“Fuck ’em.”

Fuck Axel, he means.

He picks up the pace, and I couldn’t stay quiet if I wanted to. Every inch of my skin feels as if it’s on fire. My dick is so hard it hurts, dripping precum onto the sheets beneath us.

I almost forgot what this feels like. Three and a half years is a long time, but I was never tempted to fuck anyone else.

Not even once. No matter what happened or how much time passed, I always knew I’d end up right back here.

This is where I belong. With him. Completely at his mercy. His to do whatever he pleases with.

I only wish I could see him. Wish he could see what he’s doing to me.

His thoughts must mirror mine before he says, “Fuck it. Come here.” His hands fumble as he unties me and flips me onto my back.

He takes my wrists and wraps the tie around them, knotting it tight.

He doesn’t tie me to the headboard like I expect him to.

Instead, he hooks my arms over his head, my arms wrapped around his neck.

He looks down between us and lines himself up, pushing inside me with one quick thrust. He’s not slow or gentle this time.

He fucks me hard and fast, his hand around my throat, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure.

Hard enough to pin me down, but not hard enough to cut off my airway.

I’m caught in a place between pleasure and pain, and I never want it to end.

I clutch the back of his neck, bringing his forehead to mine. “I missed you, baby.”

He glares, but the look in his eyes tells me he’s trying not to smile.

“Did you miss me?” I push.

“No.”

I smirk. “That’s the third lie.”

Wrapping my thighs around his waist, he lowers his mouth until it’s almost touching mine, taunting me before he takes my bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard.

I moan and run my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, my nails scraping roughly over his scalp.

He hisses, but I know he loves it. He likes a bit of pain with his pleasure too.

He moves his mouth down to my neck, licking and nipping me before he brands me with yet another mark. I don’t try to stop him. I’ll walk around covered in hickeys tomorrow with a fat fucking smile on my face.

“You think I still love you?” he asks, his tongue gliding across my throat.

“I know you do.”

“How’s that?”

“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. Not after what I did.”

He hums. “Maybe you’re here because I hate you. Maybe I want to punish you.”

“I don’t think so. You know what the opposite of love is?” Grabbing his hair again, I force his head up so I can look him in the eye. “It’s not hate. It’s indifference.”

He yanks his head out of my grip, our foreheads knocking together. He reaches up behind his neck and grabs my wrists, slamming them down on the pillow above me. Then he fucks me even harder than before, his fingers digging into my hip.

The thought of him bruising me makes my dick leak.

“Easton. I’m gonna come.”

He stops abruptly, licking his lips as he looks down at the pool of precum on my abs. It’s as if he can’t decide whether he wants to fuck the cum out of me or suck it out of me.

A few seconds go by, and then he’s pulling out and dropping down on his back, grabbing my hips and helping me straddle him.

Fuck it out of me, it is.

“Sit up,” he demands. “I want to watch you come all over me.”

With his help, I lower myself onto his dick, bracing my restrained hands on his chest for balance.

He takes the hem of my shirt and shoves it into my mouth, not to shut me up, but so he can see my body, I’m assuming.

His blunt fingernails dig into my outer thighs as he fucks up into me, and I moan through my teeth.

White-hot pleasure races through me, and we both watch as my dick pulses, thick ropes of my cum hitting his stomach and chest. He scoops some up with his fingers and pushes them into his mouth, sucking them clean.

Then he scoops up some more and lifts my ass up, coating his dick with my release before he slides back inside me, fucking me with my own cum.

I collapse on top of him and wrap my arms around his head. He wraps his arms around my back, his fingers hooked over my shoulders as he fucks me hard and fast. When he comes inside me, he drags his nails down my back, making me cry out into his ear.

“Fuck, Easton. I have to get up on that podium again tomorrow night.”

“I know,” he breathes, unashamed.

“Asshole.”

“Brat.”

I smile and bury my face into his neck. Still inside me, he teases my sides with his knuckles as we catch our breaths, our hearts beating rapidly.

Being here, in his arms…it feels like home. I’m finally home.

And I’m afraid to move—afraid of what I’ll find the next time he looks at me.

Will he regret this? Will he hate me? Will he tell me to leave now that he’s gotten his fill of me?

“Are you sorry?” I whisper.

It takes him a minute, but he eventually says, “Never.”