She moans—sharp, high. Her body jolts under my hands.
I do it again. Slower. Deeper. Tongue circling her bud, teasing her just enough to make her hips twitch like she’s deciding whether to run or beg.
I grab both cheeks, holding her in place, licking again—and again—until she’s squirming, panting, muttering my name like a prayer.
Sable’s right on the edge again. I feel it.
And I want her to break on me.
I press the tip of my cock against her again. One long thrust, and I’m buried deep. She cries out, back arching. I nearly come right then.
My hand slides under her bent leg, angling her just how I want her. I reach between her thighs, fingers circling her clit with the precision of someone who has known this beautiful woman’s body forever.
I thrust again. And again. Deep. Measured. Claiming.
Her breath stutters. Her pussy clenches around me like a vise.
I growl low in my throat, my own orgasm building hard and fast behind hers.
“Hex,” she moans, voice broken and needy.
I thrust harder, fingers moving faster. “Come for me.”
And she does. Her walls lock around me, pulsing, drawing every last ounce of control from my body.
I follow with a guttural sound, burying myself as far as I can go while she milks me dry. She moans louder, her entire body shuddering. We fall apart together. Raw. Spent. Full.
She lets out a shaky breath, face buried in the pillow. “Holyshit,” she whispers.
I chuckle, breath still ragged, and press a kiss to the center of her back. “This is just the beginning. I’ve got you all night.”
And I mean it.
We wrap ourselves in one another, in heady conversation. Then, after we raid the kitchen for cold grapes and half a granola bar, both of us laughing, drunk on skin and heat, we come together once more. We never stray far from the bed, never need to. It’s all right here: warmth, hunger, the unspoken truth of what’s building between us.
Eventually, I’ve got her wrapped in my arms, her head tucked under my chin, her bare leg thrown across mine. Neither of us quite ready to sleep. The room is still and thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the sachet that she said smelled like me on the nightstand. I could stay here forever.
A buzz disrupts our peace.
My phone, buried in the pocket of my jeans on the floor. One long, vibrating pulse.
I groan, stretch an arm to the floor, and dig it out. The screen lights up.
1:30 a.m.
Will.
My stomach sinks.
Sable stirs against me as I answer, “Yeah?”
His voice is tight, rushed. “They jumped JT.”
I jolt up, reaching for my jeans again. “What happened?”
“He was out front. I barely got there in time to pull them off him. He’s in bad shape, Hex. I wouldn’t have called otherwise.”
I’m already on my feet, phone pinned to my ear, one leg back in my pants. “Who was it?”
