“Shh. Let me,” he murmured, his voice low, rough.
His fingers found her slick, and he groaned against her lips, stroking her slowly at first, then with purposeful pressure. She clutched his shoulders, biting her lip as pleasure coiled tight inside her. He kept his eyes on her face, drinking in every flutter of her lashes, every gasp, until she broke apart with a muffled cry, shuddering against him.
He kissed her through it, hands never leaving her until the aftershocks faded. "What do you say we move this to your bed?" he whispered in her ear before pressing a kiss to her temple.
In the bedroom, he took his time stripping her, pressing reverent kisses to every inch of bare skin he revealed. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, worship threaded through every touch.
He pushed her back on the bed and kneeled between her legs. His dick throbbed at the sight of her perfect pussy. He trailed a finger down her center before pushing it in. Using his other hand, he spread her open and gave her a slow, indulgent lick as she squirmed.
"Please, Murphy, just fuck me."
He'd never been with anyone like Hillary before. She went after what she wanted and didn't care what anyone thought, in the bedroom and in life. He considered himself lucky to be part of all of it. But as she moaned, he had a renewed focus on her pleasure.
They'd been doing this all summer, so he knew what to do. He knew the spot to hit inside and the way she liked her clit sucked, so that was just what he did.
Her thighs squeezed around his head as she cried out.
When she came down, he was standing over her looking down at her, "You're so pretty when you come."
"Get over here," she said, reaching for him.
He moved over her slowly at first, building her up again until she was begging, nails digging into his back. When he finally pushed into her, his breath stuttered. "Fuck," he groaned in her ear as he ground against her.
Then he set a steady rhythm, every thrust punctuated by murmured praise. It had never been this good before.
She came again, clinging to him, and he followed with a hoarse groan, collapsing beside her and pulling her close.
Later, tangled in her sheets, he traced a lazy circle on her hip. “Guess we should be careful about getting walked in on again,” he teased lightly.
"Right. That was a close one," she said.
He was hoping she would laugh, but she didn't seem to find it funny.
"I mean, you can shove me under your desk anytime, Boss."
This did get a little chuckle out of her as he relaxed back into the bed.
Her smile flickered. “This . . . was amazing. But we said no strings. And after tonight, we should stick to that.”
He tried to make it a joke. “Sure. Last hurrah.”
But when he left, pulling the door shut behind him, the words looped in his head. She'd said this many times after they'd hooked up this summer, but part of him thought she might mean it this time.
He started up his car and looked back up at her house. He would respect her decision, whatever it was, but he was in deep. Somehow, since the gala, this devastatingly strong woman had come to mean a lot to him. He was not ready for it to be over.
9
HILLARY
The center buzzed with the chaotic energy of the first day of training camp. Hillary soaked it in from the quiet of her office, papers spread across her desk, the glow of her laptop casting soft light over her notes. She was in her element. If only her mind wasn’t still replaying last night and the way Murphy’s mouth had felt on hers, the way she’d told him it was over.
A soft knock sounded at the doorframe. She looked up to find Murphy leaning there, coffee in hand.
“Triple shot latte, oat milk, half the syrup,” he said, stepping inside like he owned the place.
Her heart gave a traitorous squeeze. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did.” His smile was slow, knowing.
