A breathless, hysterical laugh escapes me. “You bastard,” I whisper to Slade, who looks too pleased with himself.
His only response is to withdraw his tongue and thrust it back inside with more purpose. My cock, which had softened during Maia’s interruption, returns to full hardness, leaking onto my stomach.
But just as I’m adjusting to the new sensation, Slade withdraws. Before I can protest the loss, he moves upward, taking my cock into his mouth in one smooth motion.
The wet heat engulfs me. After all the teasing, all the denial, the feeling is so overwhelming that I know I won’t last. Slade seems to sense this too, because he doesn’t tease any longer. He sucks hard, his tongue pressing against the underside of my shaft, his hand reaching up to cup my balls.
The pressure that’s been building explodes all at once. “I’m coming,” I warn, my fingers tangling in his dark hair.
Slade doesn’t pull away. He takes me deeper, swallowing around my cock as the first pulse of my orgasm hits.
I cry out, my back arching off the bed as wave after wave crashes through me. It goes on and on, longer and more powerful than any orgasm I’ve ever experienced. Slade stays with me through it all, swallowing everything I give him, groaning with his own pleasure at my taste.
When the last aftershock subsides, my body goes limp, utterly spent. Slade releases me, placing one final kiss on the sensitivehead before crawling up to lie beside me. His expression is one of smug satisfaction, his lips red and swollen from his efforts.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, struggling to form coherent thoughts. “That was…”
“Yes,” he agrees, tracing lazy patterns on my chest. “It was. We should go down, though. Otherwise, they’ll send someone else up for us.” He makes no move to get up.
“Yeah,” I agree, equally motionless. “We should.”
A moment passes between us, heavy with all the things we haven’t said, all the questions we haven’t answered. What is this? What does it mean? Where do we go from here?
Slade reaches out, his hand cupping my jaw. “We’ll talk about this later,” he says, his thumb brushing across my lower lip.
I nod, already anticipating that conversation and wondering what else the weekend might bring. “Later,” I agree.
***
The transition from our private sanctuary to the outdoor buffet feels like stepping onto a stage, unprepared for a performance. Every step across the lodge’s bamboo flooring makes me hyperaware of Slade’s presence beside me. My body still hums with the ghost of his touch—a secret electricity that I’m certain must be visible to everyone we pass.
We emerge at the wooden deck where the buffet-style dinner is being served. The setting sun casts everything in golden light, making the tables glow. String lights woven through potted plants create the illusion of fireflies. The effect would beromantic if I weren’t so busy trying to remember how to act normal.
“Owen! Slade!” Ava waves from a table near the railing where the rest of the group has already gathered. “Over here!”
I take a steadying breath and force my lips into what I hope passes for a casual smile.
“Feeling better?” Ava asks me as I approach. “You look a million times better than this morning.”
“Amazing what a good nap can do,” I reply, hyperconscious of my tone.
Bryce’s gaze slides from me to Slade, who has taken a seat beside him. There’s something assessing in his expression.
“Must have been some nap,” he says. “What about you, Slade? That work thing occupied you for a while, huh?”
“It took longer than expected.”
“Right,” Bryce nods.
I half-listen to their exchange, dropping into an empty chair across from Slade rather than beside him.
“You missed out on some serious artistic expression at the pottery class,” Zara says, turning to me. “I made you a mug, though. It’s hideous, but created with good intentions.”
I laugh, grateful for the distraction. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“Owen, Ava’s right—you do look better,” Maia chimes in, studying my face.
“Just needed some rest,” I say, avoiding Slade’s eyes.
