Page 73 of The Hallows Queen

“So, what if that’s what this is, what if this is just pleasure and you’re confused?” I ask, nervous for the answer, even though I know in my bones that it isn’t true.

His gaze bores into mine. “No one on earth has heard the words I said to you tonight. Not my best friends, not my fucking family. I’m not going to sit here and pretend this all makes sense to me, and I’m not going to lie to you about the fact I’m fucking scared, but I know this is more.”

Before I can speak again, he continues.

“I’m not a good guy, P. I won’t pretend to be. I’ve made mistakes – lots of them. I’m mean, cold, and selfish. I use people for whatever they can give me, and nothing comes before myself.” He drops his eyes closed. “That’s how I know… because I want to be tender with you, I want to give you pleasure instead of milking you dry and taking whatever you can give me. I want to put you first.”

Something in my chest ignites, burning so hot with pride and power at knowing I have influence over someone who sits at the top of the ladder. Leaning forward, I kiss along his throat. “So, I’ll be the first.”

He rolls his head back, giving me more room to assault his neck. “First.Only.”

I smirk between open-mouthed kisses across his skin. “Tell me I own you.”

His cock inflates between us, so I reach down and grab it, making him groan.

“H,” I breathe against his throat whilst pumping my fist down his length. “Say it.”

He moans out the words. “You own me.”

I use both hands to push his chest, and when he’s lying on his back, I climb on top of him. Positioning him at my entrance, I sink down until he’s fully seated inside me, pressing my palms against his stomach to hold myself up. “Say it again.”

His hands grab my thighs and squeeze, and he sits up to press his mouth to mine. “You fucking own me, P.”

Grinding my hips, I moan as his cock hits my G-spot again and again, and he groans into my mouth. I curl my arms around him, digging my fingers into his back while I ride him. “Oh my god.”

“Yes, baby,” he answers with a smirk against my mouth. “Find your fucking salvation on my cock, pray to me with your moans, and remember thatI’myour god.”

His hand finds my throat, and then he squeezes it, and I see stars.

When his gaze meets mine, there’s control and dominance sparkling in his eyes as his hips buck up against me. I grind down onto him, making wide circles with my pelvis to create the friction I need against my clit to reach my climax.

Our bodies have grown slick with sweat, pressed together so tight that even air can’t get between us, and every time we move with one another, my skin pulls and burns. My fingernails press into his skin as pleasure runs through me like currents, and with every roll of my hips, my orgasm grows more intense. I’m so close to going off like a bomb that I want to throw my head back and scream for release.

When my core finally coils tight enough, I explode around him, my body jerking and shaking. He tightens his hold on me, bucking upwards so his cock keeps slamming into that sweet spot inside of me, and then he’s meeting me at the finish line and yelling out his release.

* * *

When I wakeup the next morning, I reach my arm across my bed for Hayden, but I’m alone.

Sitting up, I look around my room for him.

“Hayden?” I call out, hoping he’s just run off to the bathroom and I didn’t dream the whole night. When he doesn’t answer me, I throw my blankets off and step out of bed to search for him.

I push into the bathroom, even though the room is dark, and to no surprise, it’s empty. Making my way out through the living room, I find that the clothes he shed in there are gone, and my head starts to spin.

He isn’t here – that’s obvious. Was he ever? Did I imagine the entire thing? Or did he just run off so he didn’t have to stay true to all the sweet words he whispered to me in the dark last night?

I scoff out loud, then walk to the kitchen.

Of course he ran off. He stayed true to the person I knew he was when we first met – a fuckboy. Why would I have been convinced any different, when the first time I met him, he was hooking up with someone in the back room of Amethyst?

My gut doesn’t lie, and my gut said he was trouble.

I’m an idiot for thinking any differently.

I throw the kitchen cabinet open, grabbing the jar of coffee grounds and slamming it down on the counter. I go through the steps of making coffee in the same aggressive way, slamming everything around and making a mess. When the machine is dripping into the coffee pot, I storm back to the bathroom and take a shower.

Under the burning spray of water, I wash my body in a fit of rage. I’m so angry with myself that it feels as if I blink and I’m done, my hair shampooed and conditioned, my body scrubbed and my face clean. I stand under the hot spray for a minute, letting the water rush over me to see if it will calm me at all.

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