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“That’s when I found it,” he continues, shifting off of me and standing up all the way. “Don’t move.”
I huff, leaning up on my elbows. What could he possibly have found?
When he comes back, a swagger in his step, it slowly starts to click. My eyes widen as he pulls my vibrator from behind his back, a devilish glint in his eyes as he returns to cover my body with his again.
“How many times did you use this under my roof?” he asks, voice low and growly.
Heat pools low in my belly, and I close my eyes on a moan. “Not once,” I admit, running my palms over his chest, his jaw, and letting them rest there.
“Really?” he smiles, not quite believing me.
“I was too worried you’d catch me in the act.” I track his gaze as it moves down my body.
“Good girl. I didn’t have the willpower to do the same,” he groans, bending down to catch my bottom lip between his. “Touched myself in the shower at the thought of you in my shirts. They do something to me, Hazel.”
I grin and kiss him senseless until he starts to grind against me. I gasp as he wraps his fingers under the waistband of my leggings, pulling them and the underwear down swiftly.
He drops them to the floor and stands, taking his sweatpants and boxers off too. Vibrator in one hand, he tugs at his cock with the other, his mossy gaze turning black as he watches me spread my legs open.
“Stand up,” he says, offering me a hand.
I take it and follow him to the large desk by the window. Vibrator still in one hand, he turns me around so that my back is to his chest. Gently, he pushes down until my chest is pressed against the desk, my bare ass pressed against his hard cock.
With a moan, I swivel my hips, trying to get some friction, but he stops me with a hand on my waist, fingers digging into my soft skin. The cold vibrator against my clit startles me enough that I twitch under him, and my thoughts go hazy when he powers it on.
I’m already so turned on and dripping wet that this will be embarrassingly quick, but I can’t seem to care at the moment. There’s nothing but the sounds of our panting and the vibrator buzzing against my clit as Levi grinds his cock against my ass cheek.
“Fuck,” he says, pressing the vibrator to my entrance.
I clench my thighs and he shoves my legs apart with his knee, slipping the toy inside, inch by torturous inch.
“Please, I’d rather have you,” I mumble against the wood, trying to look over my shoulder.
With a grin, Levi meets my gaze and turns the vibrator to the highest setting. I buck against the desk, and my eyes roll to the back of my head in pleasure.
“Don’t worry, you’ll take me soon enough,” he mumbles, leaning over and pressing a kiss to my spine. It feels scorching, even though I’m still wearing a shirt.
He pumps the vibrator inside me until my walls constrict and my vision goes spotty. “So close,” I say, pushing back against him.
In a smooth move, he pulls the toy out and tosses it onto the desk, where it continues to buzz away. Then, with rough hands, he spreads me open and gives me his cock, burying himself to the hilt.
“Fuck,” I moan, biting my wrist. “So good, don’t stop.”
Levi’s hands dig into my waist, my hips, the dimples at the small of my back. He can’t decide which he likes more, so he does it all while he fucks me against the desk. His thrusts become sloppier, wilder, until he’s groaning and whimpering behind me. His fingers dig into the fleshy cheeks of my ass as he pulses inside me.
What pushes my orgasm over the edge is the sight of him over my shoulder. Half-lidded eyes, mouth open in awe, the veins in his forearms popping as he holds me tight.
He looks absolutely wrecked in the best way possible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Levi
After a week of barely seeing Hazel since she’s working all hours of the day at the country club, I become a little stir crazy. I call Ezra every twenty minutes, acting like a mother hen. I text Rowan for recommendations on what we can do while we’re in Palm Beach. I bother the cats until they’re sick of me, hiding in their cat trees.
Finally, I take it upon myself to pack both mine and Hazel’s bags for the trip to Palm Beach for the pro-am. I neatly fold all her lacy underwear and her best golf dresses and skirts that I like. I pack a few of her sundresses and sandals, knowing she feels comfortable in them.
She finds me with my hands in her sock drawer when she returns home. “What are you doing?” she asks with a cute furrow between her eyebrows. Her long hair is in a ponytail, a few curls framing her face.
