Page 93 of Risking the Pucking Defense

Wave after wave of pleasure rushes through me, and it goes on and on in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced before. I figure that it must be because it’s man-induced. It’s been a long time since that happened.

I don’t know how much time passes, but eventually my orgasm fades, leaving me lifeless on top of Hayden.

His arms are locked around my waist, pinning me against his hot and hard body.

Hard.

Fuck. He was so fucking hard beneath me.

I suck in a shuddering breath as I wiggle my hips, but the steel rod I was using only moments ago has gone.

Did he…

“Oh my god.”

I pull back and blink against the brightness until I can see him.

His head is tipped back, his eyes closed and his lips parted, allowing his increased breaths to escape.

“Hayden?” I whisper.

The only sign that he’s heard me is the twitch on one side of his mouth.

“Are…are you okay?” I ask, lifting my hand to cup his jaw as his smile grows and his eyes finally crack open.

“Hails,” he rasps. “I’m fucking incredible. I just…I just got to watch the most incredible thing.”

“Did you⁠—”

“Hails,” he warns as his cheeks blaze with heat.

“You’re too fucking cute,” I say, sitting back on his thighs and resting my hands against his chest.

“Great. Cute is what I always aspire to be,” he mutters dejectedly, immediately reminding me of the comment he made about being friend-zoned.

“Hayden.” My eyes lock on his while I hold his face in both my palms. “Your blush is cute,’ I explain. “The rest of you…” I wrap one hand around the back of his neck, anchoring myself to him. “The rest of you is…”

“Is?” he encourages.

“Everything I shouldn’t want.” My confession is a whisper, one that shouldn’t be said, but I’m finding it increasingly hard to hold back with him.

The line I’d drawn between professional and personal is fading, and I can’t seem to do anything to stop it.

“Fuck,” he breathes as I rest my forehead against his.

“Yeah,” I agree before reluctantly climbing from his lap. “I’m gonna clean up,” I say, backing away from him. “There’s a bathroom…” I point over my shoulder. “If you need to do the same.”

A laugh tumbles out of him. “I think I’m beyond that. If I go down to my car for spare clothes, will you let me back in?”

I pretend to think for a moment. “And let you miss out on the wings and ribs? I’m not that cruel.”

“Some might disagree,” he points out as he shifts to the edge of my couch.

“I don’t doubt that. Feel free to use the shower,” I say before finally spinning around. “I’m looking forward to the gray sweatpants,” I add before slipping back into my room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper to myself as I unhook my still-damp bra. But it doesn’t matter how many times I ask myself that question; I don’t think I have the power to stop.

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