I squeeze my eyes shut. “Goodnight, Nash.”
“Night,” he says. “Sleep well.”
The second I hang up, Will pulls the phone from my hand and tosses it to the floor.
“You’re a goddamn menace,” I gasp.
He slips his fingers out of me and brings them to his lips, tasting me with a grin that sends a fresh wave of heat through my entire body.
“No,” he growls, pulling me down onto him. “I’m just getting started.”
He just grips my hips and pulls me flush against him, grinding up into me through the thin layers still separating us.
The pressure hits hard. His jeans, my panties, the heat of us pressed so tight there’s nowhere to hide. I gasp, clinging to hisshoulders, my body already moving on instinct, chasing friction like it’s oxygen.
He groans into my neck, voice rough and low. “You feel that, sugar?”
I nod, helpless.
“Good. You’re gonna ride Daddy just like this.”
I move, rocking my hips, slow at first. Testing. His hands grip me tighter, guiding me into a rhythm that feels reckless and perfect and just on the edge of too much.
My thighs start to shake. His mouth finds my collarbone, biting gently, then soothing it with his tongue.
“No one else gets this,” he murmurs. “No one else gets you like this.”
My fingers knot in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan again. “Then don’t let me go.”
“Not planning on it,” he growls.
The pace picks up—frantic, messy, needy. I grind harder, feeling the drag of his zipper against my core, the way he bucks up beneath me like he can’t take it anymore.
“Fuck, Phern,” he pants. “Keep going. Just like that. I want you to fall apart for me like this.”
I moan, loud and broken, and he swallows it with his mouth, kissing me hard and hungry as we chase it together.
I’m close—too close—and so is he. His hands tighten, his body jerking beneath mine, every muscle drawn tight with restraint.
We come undone like that.
Pressed together.
Breathless.
Clothes on.
He holds me while I shudder through it, his mouth at my ear, whispering things I’m too dizzy to hold onto.
And when it’s over, when we’re both trembling, tangled on that damn couch, neither of us speaks. Because there’s nothing left to say that wouldn’t sound like begging.
The air is thick with sweat and silence.
Our breaths are still ragged, bodies tangled, clothes half-on and completely useless. Will’s hands rest on my hips, not pulling me closer anymore, just holding me there like he’s afraid to let go. Like if he moves, it all disappears.
But the quiet stretches too long. And reality? It doesn’t knock. It kicks the door in.
I shift slightly, trying to catch my breath. My legs are still trembling. My lips still feel swollen from his kiss.
