Page 29

The first orgasm had been frantic, a fast, desperate rush for the release I needed. But this second time, I can tell Hayes plans to take his time. And it’s torture, in the most delicious way.

My body’s still trembling, nerves overstimulated and stretched tight, every inch of me humming like a struck tuning fork. My nipples ache, painfully hard and hypersensitive, as if they’re pleading for his mouth, his hands—something . “I need more,” I gasp out.

He shifts lower, and I feel the heat of his breath before anything else.

His hands slide inward, slow and deliberate, until his fingers sink into the soft curve where my hips meet my thighs.

He grips me there, firm and possessive, his thumbs pressing just enough to make me twitch.

Then his tongue traces a single, searing line across my center like he’s savoring the taste of my release.

My breath stutters. “Don’t tease me,” I gasp, hips rocking toward him on instinct, desperate for more. “I need more, Hayes.”

But he only lets out a low, sinful chuckle, the sound vibrating against my skin like he’s laughing at how easy I am for him.

His hands stay firm on my thighs, massaging gently, dragging my legs wider.

He’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, circling just around my clit with the point of his tongue, each pass so close I could scream—but never quite enough to break me open again.

“I’m taking my time with you now,” he murmurs, voice rough and thick with hunger.

He presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, then another one higher.

“The first one was for you. I needed you to let go and relax. But this one?” His mouth hovers where I’m throbbing for him, his breath hot and cruel. “This one’s for me .”

Outside, a flash of heat lightning splits the darkened sky, casting the room in a brief, yellow glow.

Late spring thunder rumbles low in the distance, the air thick with promise of a warm season.

There’s no one around for miles. Just me, Hayes, and the storm that’s brewing between us.

It’s one no force of nature could match.

“Keep your legs just like this,” he growls, draping them over his broad shoulders. His tongue dives deep into me, dipping into my slit as he groans. I arch into his face, desperate for more friction, and he rewards me with two fingers in my opening, thick and perfect, sliding in deep.

“Play with those pretty tits while I have you,” he orders.

My hands obey before my brain catches up, sliding down to pinch and roll my nipples, the ache turning into sharp, sweet pleasure that courses across every inch of my skin. I moan, the sound raw and needy, echoing off the walls.

Hayes growls against me, his mouth hot and greedy, devouring me like he’s starving. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

“That feels… oh god, Hayes, don’t stop.”

His fingers thrust deeper, harder, his pace brutal in the best way. I grind against his face, chasing the high that’s building like a tidal wave inside me.

“I want you to fuck me. Please, Hayes,” I beg, my voice breaking on the words.

He pulls back just enough to rasp, “Then you better earn it, baby. Earn it by screaming my name when you come.”

And fuck, I know I’m going to. My hips rock harder into his mouth, clit dragging across his mustache, his fingers curling just right, hitting that spot that makes my vision blur. His tongue flicks over my clit, relentless, ruthless, pushing me higher until he sucks down on it hard.

I’ve never enjoyed the slow burn with sex, always wanting to get to the ending but Hayes seems to enjoy the tease as he plays with my body like an instrument that he’s somehow mastered after only one night spent together almost a decade ago.

“I’m going to fuck the stress right out of you tonight, Regan. You’ll see. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

His reassuring words hit me hard. Stars explode behind my eyelids, my body locks up, then unravels all at once.

My legs tremble around his head as he keeps going, his mouth and fingers unrelenting despite the orgasm that’s crashing through my body.

One mind-bending orgasm rolls straight into another one immediately, my body helpless against the onslaught, my clit way too sensitive for the way he’s attacking it with precision.

I’m gasping his name, over and over, while he groans against me, like he’s the one coming too. It’s wild, consuming, the kind of pleasure that ruins you for anyone else. And I never want it to stop.

My chest heaves, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps, my body trembling from the aftermath. “Hayes,” I pant, my voice a thin, shaky thread. “That was intense.”

His mouth curves into a dark smile, a glint of satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he finally releases my poor, overstimulated clit from his lips. He looks up at me, face flushed, lips slick with my arousal.

“That’s three, baby,” he whispers, his voice low and rough like gravel. “Your list had three orgasms written on it.”

“No,” I gasp, my hands flying to his collar bone, curling tight around his neck like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I let go.

Desperation? Yeah, maybe. But I don’t care. I’m not letting him leave me without fucking me. Damn my stupid list. I knew I should have written four.

He chuckles, a deep, rich sound that vibrates against my skin. “The list said—”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and fuck me,” I snap, cutting him off with a glare.

His eyes soften slightly, but there’s heat simmering beneath, a storm barely held back.

He leans in, pulling me flush against him, his body hard and scorching.

His cock presses against my stomach, thick and aching, and I swear it’s calling my name and reminding me of the first night that we spent together.

“Regan,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my temple.

“I can smell the whiskey on your breath. And yeah, I’ve been thinking about it the entire night, okay maybe the entire week.

Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about being back inside you.

Sleeping in the room next to you under the same roof isn’t helping.

I think about how good that would feel. Watching you take every inch of me again, that tight cunt swallowing me whole.

The feel of your muscles contracting around my cock.

But I’m the sober one here, and I’m the one who’s not emotional, stressed, and looking to relax.

I need to be the one who puts a stop to this.

You needed three orgasms, you got them.”

I shake my head, refusing to let go. “You misread. I wrote four.”

His laugh is a soft, disbelieving huff, and I can feel it, he’s set on this.

He’s not going to fuck me tonight. For whatever reason, he’s drawn that line in the sand.

And maybe he’s right to do it. Maybe we shouldn’t cross that line.

But honestly? We’ve already obliterated every boundary in sight from my perspective.

We’re a wrecking ball of bad decisions, and I don’t want to stop until we’ve knocked the whole house down. So, I do the only thing I can think of.

I slide down his body, my hands trailing over his solid abs, feeling the tight coil of muscle from a man who’s lived a hard, athletic life until I get to his thighs and squeeze.

I settle between his legs, wrapping my fingers around his hard shaft and pump his cock a few times, watching it grow in my fist.

“Regan,” he warns, his voice tight but not with enough power to tell me to stop.

I grip him tightly, feeling the silky skin stretch over steel, then I lean in and wrap my lips around his swollen tip. He’s hot, salty, and the weight of him on my tongue makes my head spin with need despite what we’ve just done.

“Fuck,” he groans, his fingers tangling in my hair, not pulling, just resting there like he’s trying to hold himself together.

I take him deeper, opening my throat, relaxing my jaw, swallowing around him. My hands work in rhythm, slick with spit as I pump the base that I can’t get my mouth around. His hips twitch, and I feel the tension coiling in his thighs, a live wire stretched to the brink.

Salty pre-come leaks from him, and I lick it up greedily, savoring the taste of his unique seed. I spit on his crown, watching his eyes darken, his jaw clench, then smear it around with my hand, pumping harder, faster, making a complete mess of him in my grip as I suck him harder.

“Fuck, Regan. You like this, don’t you?”

I nod, unable to form words, my mouth too full, too busy with him.

His body goes rigid faster than I anticipated, his fingers tightening in my hair as he lets out a low, guttural groan, the sound vibrating through me like an aftershock.

“Take me down that throat again, and this time, swallow like the good girl you are while I fuck your mouth.”

I wrap my lips around him snuggly, the slick mix of my saliva and his precum coating my tongue as I take him deeper, sliding down until my lips meet the top of my fists.

I pump with firm, steady strokes, and when I can’t go any further, I swallow around him as best as I can, until my throat clenches and gags, the sound raw in the quiet room.

“Fuck,” he groans, his pelvis jerking involuntarily, thighs tightening as his orgasm crashes over him. “Dammit, sweetheart.”

His cock pulses against my tongue, warm, salty cum flooding my mouth. I keep moving, bobbing up and down to milk every last drop, using it as slick lubrication, my throat working greedily around him.

When he’s finally spent, his muscles slack and his breathing ragged, I pull off with a soft pop, a satisfied smile curling my lips as his eyes flutter open, dazed and heavy.

“You sucked the life out of me.” His voice is low, rough with exhaustion, but his fingers are gentle as they brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

There’s no way I’m going to sleep tonight not dreaming of that, not with the way my heart’s still racing from what we did, but he looks wrecked, the kind of bone-deep fatigue that comes after both physical release and a long night shift at the hospital, so I know I need to let him rest.

I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Sleep well, Hayes. Don’t worry about the things you agreed to on the list tomorrow morning. I’ll figure it out. Thank you.”

He shakes his head, stubborn even as his eyes drift shut. “I’m still doing them, but I’m about to black out. Goodnight, Regan.”

I smile, sliding off the bed, pausing at the door to glance back because it’s probably too intimate for me to fall asleep beside him.

Our wedding day is coming up. Our second fake wedding.

Maybe Hayes was right about us not having sex tonight.

Sex and sleeping in the same bed’s a line we shouldn’t cross.

By the time I make it to the doorway he’s already out cold, snoring softly, his cock still half-hard resting against his stomach, body sprawled carelessly on top of the sheets, utterly spent.

And damn, does that feel good knowing I did that to him.

That I unraveled him so completely he couldn’t even make it under the covers.

And that night, I sleep soundly too.