Page 53 of Off Script

Liam choked out a cry, his hips jerking helplessly.

“Fuck,” Jacob hissed. “So responsive.”

He stroked him, firm and sure. Liam’s hips snapped forward with every pass of his hand, like he couldn’t control himself. “Shit—Jacob—God—.” His whole body shuddered.

Jacob groaned, deep and wrecked. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His last restraint burned to ash, his own pants unbearable now. He fumbled them open and shoved them down just enough to free himself. He hissed when his cock hit the cool night air.

“Touch me,” he ordered, voice ragged.

Liam’s hand wrapped around him instantly, shaky and so fucking eager—Jacob’s vision almost went white.

They stroked each other hard and fast. There was no finesse, just frantic heat and rough hands. Liam was already on the edge. Jacob could feel it in the shiver of his body, and in the desperate noises spilling out of him nonstop.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he growled.

“Fuck—yes—please—”

Jacob’s grip tightened, his strokes quick and merciless. “Do it. Show me.”

Liam shattered and came with a wrecked cry, spilling hot over Jacob’s hand. His face contorted in pleasure so raw that it stole Jacob’s breath.

The sight undid him. He thrust a few more times into Liam’s fist, bit down on his shoulder, and came so hard it tore him apart.

They sagged together in the dark, foreheads pressed together, lungs heaving. Their sweat and cum clung to their skin, a sticky mess between them.

“Fuck,” Jacob whispered.

He should have felt guilt or shame. Instead, what filled him was the relentless urge to claim. For the first time, he understood the appeal of possession. Liam felt likehisnow.

The cruelest truth was knowing that eventually he’d have to give him up—just not yet.

For now, Liam was his.

He knew exactly what that made him: a liar, a cheater, someone he’d once sworn he’d never become. He was betraying his vows, betraying everything he’d promised. But for once, he didn’t care enough to stop.

Chapter 25

Liam

Liam didn’t remember the walk back. He wasn’t even sure he’d walked at all. His feet must have moved, his legs must have carried him, but everything between his ears was white noise—like someone had taken a match to his neural wiring and now it was just static where thoughts used to be.

Somehow, he’d made it back to his room, shut the door, and locked it. He sat on the edge of the bed, still shaking. His clothes were rumpled and covered in cum, his skin cooling with sweat, and his neck stinging where Jacob’s teeth had marked him. His lips felt swollen and raw. He could still taste Jacob there—all heat and hunger.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

He’d come apart under Jacob’s hands. Let himself be touched and owned by a man he was supposed to keep at a polite distance. The sounds he’d made—God, he hadn’t even known he was capable of them.

He covered his face with his hands, his wedding ring digging into his temple, sharp enough to make him sick.

What the fuck had he done? He hadn’t just lost control—he’d handed it over. Jacob had taken it like it was his to claim. The worst part was how much he’d liked it. No. He’d fuckinglovedit.

He dropped back onto the bed, heart pounding, eyes stinging. This couldn’t happen again. It couldn’t. But already, his body was betraying him, begging for more.

What gutted him most was the awful certainty that he wouldn’t stop Jacob if he reached for him again. He’d let it happen. He’d fall the way he always did.

***