He’s got this fucking smug twist to his lips that has me pushing over the edge. Eyes igniting, I fist his massive cock, aligning my entrance over him. And without warning, I take him in one swift motion, my hips jutting into his without hesitation or mercy. I let out a gasp as the cold metal of his piercing hits my insides, sending a jolt of pleasure ricocheting against every wall of my being. My back arches from the sudden, overwhelming fullness that has overtaken me.
“Fuck. Hazel—Hazel—my God.” His hand trails up my thigh, shaking as he grabs my waist, gripping me in place so that I don’t dare get away.As if I’m going to.
I can’t help but notice how truly beautiful this man is. Even with tension etched between his brows from the dizzying approach I’ve just taken and his eyes tired from all the fitful sleeps, he reminds me of something otherworldly. Like a man that Michelangelo would have modeled in stone, or a Nordic God in one of those romance books that lined the dollar store shelves in my childhood. And he’s mine to touch, to tease, to fuck until the sun comes up?—
My dewy thoughts are interrupted by him rolling us over, my petite form now straddling him as the smirk returns to his face.
He’s infuriating...but he’s mine.
Core pulsing around his hardness, I smirk as I bend over his body, trailing my fingers over his tattoos, I place a kiss on his chest, his leather and spice cologne filling up my senses, sending another shiver through me.
“You’re killing me, Zack,” I whimper as I glide my fingers down his chest, guiding my hips up and down in flicks as subtle as hummingbird wings. And he is killing me, but I’m going toget my revenge in all of this teasing. How can one man be so annoying and yet so beautiful and delicious?
I can feel his muscles tightening beneath me and I watch as his eyes darken in recognition as to what I’m doing when I’m barely taking more than a few inches of him at a time. To keep myself from smiling, forever playing coy, I bite the inside of my cheek as I ride just his tip.
Fuck, this is turning me on. I like watching him squirm and fight for control of the situation—and then fold when I give him just one full thrust before I’m teasing him again and again. When he goes to grab my hips, no doubt to roll me over and fuck the attitude right out of me, I quickly catch one of his hands and bring it to my mouth. My tongue rolls against the pad of his index finger before biting down on the tip of his finger gently; all the while my hips are pulsating, riding his tip like my life depends on it.
His hand moves from my mouth and lays against my throat in warning. “Hazel,” he murmurs.
“Just like that, baby,” I purr. “Maybe a little harder, if you’re into it.”
And Zack’s hand does tighten, and he’s sitting up. One hand is up my shirt and palming my breast while his finger and thumb pinch my nipplehard.His mouth is on mine, hard and claiming, his tongue sliding past my lips to tangle with mine. I’ve met my match. This man knows my body as well as I do, and he knows I can’t keep up this teasing with him overwhelming my senses like this.
I don’t want to lose this little game we’re playing, but honestly not taking all of him right now feels more like losing than giving in. My hips sink down into his, his cock filling me completely once again. And his hand tight around my throat is the only thing keeping me from screaming.
Pleasure radiates through my entire body, aching with need for this man who has consumed my every waking moment. I lean down and lick his collarbone, making my way up to his ear, which I nip as he lets out a pleading moan. That sends me over the edge—I quicken my pulsing, more forceful, more feral. Cause I am—I’m feral for this man. His fingers grip on to my waist harder, and I scratch my nails down his chest, knowing that they’ll definitely leave marks.
“Jesus, baby. You’re—fuck,” he grits out, his breathing labored.
He stares at me, almost as if he’s looking at me like this moment isn’t real, like it’s not actually happening. Does he feel it too? This shift in our dynamic— that there’s no longer a fight for power and control, but an understanding. That we are equals, two halves of the same whole. Two cogs that only work together.
Then he’s kissing me again; it’s possessive, he’s holding me making it feel like I'm actually his. He’s pumping into me and it feels different, new—exciting like things between us are both being felt for the first time walls down.
We take our time. All those walls he had put up between us aren’t there anymore. It’s raw and real, and it’s finally feeling like we’re on the same page. Our bodies move as one, hard and claiming but soft and gentle all at once. When we aren’t kissing, we’re staring into one another’s eyes and I feelseenfor the first time. Like I’m no longer wearing the mask of Hazel, the girl from Maplewood that’s just trying to sort shit out and look tough doing it. Right now, I’mhisHazel. The woman that’s fucked up and made to feel beautiful not in spite of it, but maybe because of it. I think cogs like us have to be a little misshapen to work together— but when it works, it works. And that’s something so terrifying and freeing to realize. Here in his arms, staring into his eyes, and savoring each needy kiss, I feelfree.
As if in some sort of sappy love story, we orgasm together. His cock pulses as he releases into me, his body going rigid and gripping me tightly before relaxing, and I follow closely behind. My hips jerk wildly against his as ecstasy pours down like torrential rain, and I don’t know which way is up or down as I hold to him for anchor. Our breathing is uneven and quick, but I can’t stop staring at him, my heart feeling things that I never thought I would— and that even post-nut clarity didn’t shake free. It’s not just a good lay, it’s him. And I’m so sure of it that I’m speechless for a long while.
We sit there, just staring at each other.
“I love you.” The words slip out of me, and it’s as if the world comes crashing down.
“Hazel, I…” He pulls out of me, and I see the walls being built back up. And it’s not for lack of feeling different, it’s that he feels the same and won’t let himself feel this way.
“Zack—” My voice is small for once, feeling like I’ve gone and fucked this all up. All the hard work we’ve put toward each other suddenly came crashing down in a beautiful cacophony of ruin.
“Goodnight, Hazel,” Zack says as he gets into bed, pulling the covers up over himself as silence settles over me. I’ve never felt so alone while being so physically close to someone.
The night passes in a blur, his body in the same bed, but worlds away
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
WAIT IN THE TRUCK
HAZEL
Mornings after sex always feel louder than the night itself.
Not because of sound—because of space. The kind you don’t notice until it’s there, stretched thin between two people who were tangled together hours ago and are now carefully not touching at all.
