Page 103 of Pucking Forbidden

“Mrs. Clay,” I interrupt. “Potato masher is clean. Where do you want the serving bowls?”

The reminder of my childhood hangs like a cold draft in the warm kitchen. Mrs. Clay looks at me. I see a flash of deep, sorrowful regret in her eyes, but she respects the boundary. She nods once. “They’re in the top cabinet, Julian. Like they always have.”

Hadley is watching me, her brow furrowed, but she doesn’t say anything. I focus back on the potatoes, willing my heart to stop hammering against my ribs.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: DON’T DESERVE HER

JULIAN

By midnight, the house is dark. The old attic space that got converted into the guest room I used when I was a kid is small. A single full-sized bed takes up most of the space under a sloped ceiling.

I’m sitting on the edge of the mattress, shirtless and in sweatpants, my head in my hands, listening to the quiet rustle of fabric as Hadley walks out of the small bathroom. She’s wearing one of my old, faded Night Hawks t-shirts, the hem falling halfway down her thighs. Fuck. She looks sexy.

She walks over, her bare feet silent on the worn-out carpet on the floor, and slides onto the bed. As I lay down, for a moment, I worry she’ll just get crushed between me and the wall…I barely fit in the bed as it is. Instead, her small arms wrap around my chest. Her cheek presses against my spine, right over my tattoo and the scars beneath it.

“Thank you,” she whispers into my skin, her breath warm. “Thank you for bringing me here, Julian. For sharing her with me. I know how much Mrs. Clay means to you.”

The pure goodness of her makes my throat tighten. I turn around in her embrace, looking down at her in the dim light coming off the lantern on the bedside table.

“She liked you,” I murmur, my voice rough. “A lot. She told me I’d be a fool to let you go.”

Hadley smiles up at me, a sudden, fierce heat flashing in her eyes that knocks the wind right out of my lungs. She reaches up, her small hands sliding behind my neck.

“I want to thank you properly,” she breathes against my lips.

Before I can even process the words, she’s pushing me back onto the bed and sliding down my body, kissing along my chest then my stomach, her movements slow and deliberate. I let out a low, choked groan as her hands slip down my stomach, her fingers pulling my sweatpants down my hips.

Before she goes any further, she hesitates. She sits back on her heels, her hair falling forward over her shoulders, her brown eyes looking up at me through her lashes. There's a beautiful, faint flush on her cheeks, a mix of nerves and absolute determination.

“Julian,” she whispers, her voice a little breathless, her fingers resting against my inner thigh. “Tell me how you like it. I want to do this right for you.”

My heart hammers violently against my ribs. The vulnerability of her asking, of wanting to please me this much, hits me harder than any physical sensation. I reach down, my large hand finding the side of her neck, my thumb stroking her jawline to steady her.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart,” I rumble, my voice thick with a raw heat. “Anything you do is perfect. Just follow your instincts. I'm right here.”

She swallows, her gaze dropping, and she leans forward. Her hot breath teases the head of my cock, making me groan. When her warm lips and the velvet heat of her mouth wrap around my shaft, my brain short-circuits.

My fingers tangle into her hair, my hips instinctively lifting off the mattress as she takes me in, her stroke rhythmic and deep.

“Yes, baby... just like that,” I growl, my eyes closed tight as pleasure burns straight through my veins. “You’re incredible. Fuck, Hadley, you're driving me crazy.”

She destroys my control within seconds, her tongue working with a sweet friction that has me gripping the sheets until the threads strain. I can tell she’s never done this before, but she’s a natural. She pays attention to the sounds I make, adjusting her lips and tongue to intensify the pleasure. She grows bolder with each second that passes. Just as I feel the white-hot edge of the cliff rushing up to meet me, I pull her up, my breath hitching as I roll her onto her back beneath me.

I reach for my wallet on the nightstand, my hands shaking as I grope for a condom, but Hadley’s hand slides over mine, stopping me.

“No,” she whispers, her cheeks flushed, her eyes incredibly dark and focused entirely on mine. “We’ve done it without one already. I want to feel you inside me. All of you.”

The admission hits my system like a shot of pure adrenaline. I drop the wallet, my hands sliding under her thighs, lifting her legs and draping them over my shoulders. Grabbing her panties, I yank them down her legs and toss them to the floor to reveal her pretty pink pussy.

“You are so beautiful,” I murmur, dragging a finger along her folds. She’s already wet.

“Julian,” she gasps, arching into my hand. “Please, I need you…”

As eager as she is, I don’t rush. I drag my fingers slowly over her wet folds, tracing the highly sensitive seam of her center until she’s slick and shaking beneath me, but I don't slide inside her yet.

Instead, I let my primal instincts take over. Before Hadley, I was never a giver. Sex had always been a blunt, physical transaction. A chore to quiet the noise in my head. But the taste of her has become an absolute addiction. A hunger that lives deep in my marrow.

I slide down her small frame, parting her thighs, and press my mouth directly to her heat.