Page 9 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

“Can I fuck my hand while I watch you come apart around my fingers?” He asks through clenched teeth.

He quickly follows the quiet demand hidden as a question, and starts working at his belt.

My eyes widen as I flick my focus between him and his pants.

Instead of pulling out what I'm so desperate to see, a pained look crosses his expression, and his biceps flex with restraint.

Judging by the very rigid outline around his zipper, I'm sure he's throbbing. If I keep pushing, will he snap? Will he finally let go of that good boy persona and show me who he really is?

I shake my head, and a broken moan is muffled by whatever fabric is in my mouth as he plunges his finger deeper and faster than he has yet. I'm enjoying desperate needy Moe and loving the power, but he’s slipping. I know all it'd take is just a little nudge.

“Please, baby,” he murmurs, his breathing shallow. Am I allowed to take this damn fabric out yet? I want to yell at him to treat me how I need to be treated. I want to scream that I didn't mean it when I said no, but he grips my wrist as I raise my hand to pull the fabric out.

“Fuck, please…” Moe trails off, breathing heavily as I clench and pulsate around his finger.

It feels like my skin is burning, but the rain falling from the sky does little to extinguish the fire along my flesh.

His head leans against mine, every fiber in my being begging me to close that space, but I can't.

“Please, please, please.” He mutters like a mantra, pumping into me with each begging breath he takes.

He’s just as wrecked as I am, with his muscles coiled tight and body trembling with need.

At this moment, I realize I don’t like all this power.

I want what he can give, if it takes me saying yes for now on I’ll say it like a damn prayer.

My abdomen tightens, and I nod, my hands finding their place back into the soft ground below. I'm teetering too close to the edge and refuse to fall over without seeing him get off on how good he's making me feel.

I lean against the tree and close my eyes, willing myself to hang on just a moment longer, but the sound of spit has my focus lazily drawing back to his. There's that storm. His eyes are almost black with how dark they've become.

“That’s it, baby, keep lookin’ at me.” He grunts as his hand wraps around his base, and he makes a languid stroke.

That's it. Just the sight of the red hue filling his cheeks and clear drip forming at his tip has my walls clasping around his fingers like a vice and my orgasm crashes through me like a damn wave.

Knocking every logical, coherent thought from my mind until it's blank.

“So fucking pretty.”

I wish I could see his face as he moans the words but my eyes have screwed shut so tightly I see spots.

He continues working into me to the point that it's almost unbearable how pleasurable everything feels.

I grapple at his wrist, desperate for just a moment of reprieve, and thankfully, he's willing, but I'm not given any space. If anything, I'm crowded into the tree more as he stands. The phone's light shifts onto my face with the motion so I squint against it as he smacks his cock against my lips and starts stroking again. I’ve never been so desperate to feel something in my mouth. It’s the perfect size, throbbing and bulging veins that ripple under each rock of his hips into his hand. I want to know how warm it’d feel against my tongue, if he’d taste sweet or salty.

“Open your mouth for me…” He works his jaw before continuing, “Please, sunshine.”

The beam bounces off our surroundings, giving me just enough light to watch as his head rolls with a low moan. It’s mesmerizing how his biceps flex and relax, waiting so impatiently for me to do as he asks.

With his head lolling forward between his shoulders, our eyes lock again, but it’s only for a split second because as soon as my lips part, his tip pushes past them, and something warm seeps through the cloth in my mouth.

With eyes screwed shut he groans, the sound vibrating his chest as he strokes faster and soaks through the fabric.

“Thank you.” It’s a hoarse mutter, like a recited prayer, his legs trembling and arms shaking.

Slowly, I draw back, panting for air as I reach to pull the infuriating cloth from my mouth, but he snatches it away before I get the chance.

A flash of black is all I need to see to realize that it was my underwear keeping me gagged.

Instead of returning it, he tucks it into his pocket.

“Is that what you wanted? Is that what you like?” he breathes, adjusting himself. “Is that how we need to do this, with you having all the control?”

I hear all of his questions, but I don’t know how to respond at this point. Is he really this willing to do anything to please me? Even though he came, he doesn’t look fully satisfied. A hard furrow in his brows makes me wonder if I wasn’t what he expected.

Before I can spiral too far into my thoughts, his hands are under my arms, and he’s hoisting me to my feet. The rain stopped, who knows when, and now all that lingers are the clouds and the few stars trying to shine through.

“I can get better at it,” he mutters so quietly that I finally realize how long I’ve been silent in shock. I clear my throat, wiping my hands on my jeans, but it feels futile since they’re just as filthy.

"You did fine. I think?" I say hoarsely, my mouth feeling too dry. Honestly, I'm not ready to confront the vulnerability in his tone.

With a grunt, he brushes my hair out of my face. It seems like he wants to say something, but the words that come out are not what I expect.

"I'll take you home then."

“You can jump my car off off,” I say a little quicker than I intended, but I’m not vibing with this awkward atmosphere.

“I’ll need my car for work tomorrow anyway,” I say, lighter this time, and his features soften from my tone.

I like the way he looks at me. It’s gentle and carefree, like I didn’t just bruise his ego.

I swear I could probably cuss him right now, and he’d probably thank me. I haven’t had someone like that.

He shakes his head with a grin. “You’ll need a new battery. I’ll get you in the morning and take you to work.”

“It’s fine.” I huff and push past him, hoping he’ll follow so I can actually see where I’m going this time.

It’s too much. I don’t need rides from him or cute moments.

“By the way, just because I said no didn’t mean I meant it,” I mutter.

“If you say no, I’m going to listen.” He calls out. Mud sloshes beneath his boots as he quickly catches up.

“Look, sunshine, you gotta tell me what you want. I’m not just gonna take it like that on the first time out here.” Moe continues, and I groan in frustration. There goes the high I was riding, but I needed it to fade.

“Alright. That was fun, but I think I’d like it better if you took control. I don’t want to think or have to make decisions.” I wave my hand dismissively, hating how I have to voice everything, my tone turning sharper each passing second.

The sound of his footsteps pauses, then continues again.

I feel like a complete arse hole as he catches up shining the light in front of my feet as he pushes a hand through his hair.

Even through my guilt, I can’t stop myself from my angry ramble—it’s a forced habit at this point to push him back behind my barriers.

These feelings he brings out in me are supposed to stay tucked far away. I don’t need to trust another man, but he almost makes it easy.

“Um. Yeah. Alright. I-I can do that.”

Stepping in front of my car, I slam the hood shut, brace my hands on the damp metal, and steady my breathing.

“Sorry,” I mutter. Within an instant, large palms are splayed over my hips, and he’s tugging me back.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re all bark and no bite. Aren’t you sunshine?” He mutters, tucking his head into my neck, reverting to the happy-go-lucky man I’m used to.

I don’t want this version, even if I think it’s cute.

“Careful. I might.” I turn my head and chomp my teeth just to emphasize how enticing he makes the idea sound.

The laugh he lets out feels genuine, rattling against my back. With a firm smack to my arse he urges me around the vehicle.

“Do you just want me to have control in bed or all the time?”

I turn on my heel, my eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”

“You.” He hums so casually it makes my stomach somersault. It’s just another one of his games. At least that’s what I’ll continue to tell myself to keep my heart safe.

“Just do what you feel is right at the moment, and I’ll let you know if I don’t like it.”

“Raylen.”

The way he says my name in that deep timber has me freezing in my tracks, my hand hovering over my car door handle.

“Get your stuff. Get in my car. I’ll take care of this heap in the morning. You’re soaked, and it’s late. I’m not fighting with you.”

My lips part to argue or protest, yet this is what I asked for, isn’t it? I wish I could stop my shoulders from instantly relaxing, but they sag in their own accord, and I follow the command like I was hardwired to do so.

After gathering my things, I hover by my car door, sending a side-eyed glance in his direction, but he doesn’t say anything.

With a nod of his head, I turn towards his Mercedes.

I hate the idea of slipping into such a sleek vehicle like this, but my limbs are numb, and the adrenaline is finally wearing off, letting the cold seep into my bones.

“In.” To my surprise, he opens my door and doesn’t stop there as he leans in to pull my seatbelt over my chest. Typically, I'd flinch at such a close proximity motion, but with his face so close, I can make out the light freckles that hardly seem noticeable in the daylight along his nose.

He’s pretty, not in a cute way, like his jokes or boyish charm, but in a rugged way that is hard to notice if you only know his personality.

“You’re staring.” He points out, and I quickly look away with the click of the buckle. I’m glad he doesn’t push any further because the genuine smile that crosses his features makes me want to punch him in his pretty face.

“And you're smiling,” I say quietly.

Before the car door can shut, our eyes lock, and he gives me another one of those charming grins that crinkle his eyes.

“I am.”