Page 100 of When It's Us
“That’s it, baby,” he growls, voice wrecked. “Come for me.”
I do—with a gasp I can’t contain, my cry spilling into his palm, body clenching tight around him as everything inside me shatters. My legs shake, fire rushing through my veins as his name echoes in my head like a prayer.
He groans behind me, hips stuttering. “Fuck.”
Then he's gone, grinding into me, rhythm wrecked, pounding so hard the cheap mirror rattles against the wall.
“Shit. Fuck. Gonna…come,” he pants.
And he does with a deep grunt against the back of my neck, his hold on my waist bruising, grounding.
We stay like that for a breathless second—my body still twitching with aftershocks, his chest heaving against my back, heartbeat thunderous.
Slumped back against him, breathing hard, my eyes meet his in the mirror, looking half-wrecked and completely undone for this man behind me.
God, he’s gorgeous like this—wild hair, flushed skin, towering over me, still buried deep inside.
“You fuck with my head, California,” he mutters against the side of my neck. “I see some asshole breathe too close to you, and I want to break something.”
My chest tightens at the sound of it. Like a truth he didn’t mean to say out loud.
I feel myself cracking open.
He grinds his hips once, slow and filthy, pulling a gasp from my lips before his softening cock slips out of me with a wet drag. I can feel it almost immediately, his cum warm on my thigh, thick and messy.
He watches it in the mirror for a beat, and then his hand comes to my waist, gently turning me to face him.
My legs are shaking, panties still around my ankles, dress around my waist, skin flushed. I feel filthy and worshipped at the same time.
Hutch drops to his knees in front of me. His palms slide up my thighs, thumbs parting my pussy enough so he can watch.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice raw. His eyes flick up to mine. “You know how fucking good that looks?” His voice is hoarse. “Perfect cunt swollen, thoroughly fucked and dripping with me?”
I watch, stunned and aching, as he swipes two fingers through the slickness of our combined arousal, gathering everything he left behind.
His brows twitch as he uses two fingers to push it back inside me, slow and deep, like it’s something precious.
I grip the edge of the counter behind me, biting down a moan.
He rises slowly, fingers trailing up the insides of my thighs as he stands. Then he pulls my panties up with deliberate care, soft silk and lace sliding over my hypersensitive skin.
“Jesus,” I whisper, loving every filthy thing that came from this man’s mouth. Leaning into him, my legs like Jell-O.
He chuckles low and filthy, tipping his chin down to kiss the curve of my shoulder. Slow, warm, lingering. “You good, baby?” he rasps against my ear, wrapping his arms around me.
Baby.I melt at the word, and it scares me, and maybe I should push him away, put some distance between us and whatever this is, but I can’t. The way he’s looking at me, tender and sweet after the absolutely brutal way he’d fucked me, is doing weird shit to my stomachandmy heart.
“Still wanna give that guy a chance?” he asks, voice low against my skin, but the fight’s gone. All heat now—something quieter, too.
I want to say no. I was never going to do anything with that guy. But I still pushed him.
And I got exactly what I wanted.
His attention. His hands. That flash of possessiveness I crave like oxygen.
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You’re the one who got all territorial because someonelookedat me.”
His jaw ticks. “He touched what’s mine and then you teased me with it.”
