Page 104 of Pucking Forbidden

She lets out a sharp, startled gasp, her hips bucking off the mattress, but I grip her thighs with my large hands, anchoring her. I use my tongue, dragging it slowly up her wet seam before taking her sensitive bud into my mouth, sucking her in with a heavy, deliberate friction. She whimpers, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she melts under the pressure. The heady, sweet taste of her hits my tongue, and any lingering shred of my control threatens to snap.

She’s so small beneath me. Hovering over her like this, my shoulders block out the dim light of the bedroom. I slide back up her body, the contrast of our sizes sending a jolt of heat straight to my gut.

“Julian, please,” she wheezes, her chest heaving, her brown eyes dark with blown-out pupils.

“Quiet, baby,” I whisper, leaning down until my lips brush her ear. “We have to be quiet.”

I take my cock in my hand, but instead of driving in, I slowly drag the head of it over her swollen, wet folds, teasing both of us until she’s begging, her hips tilting up to find me.

“Look at me,” I order.

She locks her eyes onto mine, her breathing shallow and ragged.

“Don't you dare come yet,” I murmur, my hand sliding under her lower back to tilt her pelvis, locking her in place. “Hold it for me. I want to feel every single squeeze.”

Only when she nods, her lips parted in a silent plea, do I finally drive deep inside her.

Just like before, the sensation of bare, uninhibited skin-to-skin contact is so overwhelmingly intense I almost lose my mind on the very first stroke. The tightness of her walls wrapping around me is a beautiful torture. Hadley lets out a muffled, breathless sob, her small hands flying up to clamp over her own mouth to keep the noise inside as she wraps her legs tightly around my waist.

I move inside her with a hard, controlled rhythm, my chest slamming heavily against hers, the friction of our bodies generating a scalding heat. I lock my mouth onto her throat, sucking gently on the soft skin of her collarbone to smother my own guttural groans as I drive deeper.

Her inner muscles start to tremble, clamping down on me like a vice.

“Julian…” she gasps against my neck, her grip on my shoulders tightening until her nails bite into my skin.

“Now, sweetheart,” I growl against her ear, picking up the pace, driving into her with everything I have. “Come for me. Now.”

The command completely shatters her. She arches against me, her body tightening as she comes. The violent contraction of her walls sends me straight over the edge. I let out a deep, animalistic growl into her shoulder, my body shuddering as I spill inside her, giving her every single thing I have until I’m completely empty.

I lie there in the quiet aftermath. The steady rise and fall of Hadley’s chest against mine is the only anchor keeping me grounded. She is completely relaxed, her head resting over my heart, one of her legs still tangled with mine under the heavy sheets.

Looking down at her, a profound, aching warmth settles deep in my chest. She could have been anywhere else this week. Lainey had sent her a frantic barrage of texts inviting her to a massive, picture-perfect family Thanksgiving, and the guys had practically begged us to stay in Denver and join the team's holiday chaos. But she turned them all down. She chose to pack her bags and come here. She chose this cramped space and my heavy, complicated baggage over an easy, comfortable holiday.

She has given me an open, unquestioning acceptance that I still don't entirely know how to carry. Feeling the absolute weight of the trust she’s placed in me, I feel a sudden, terrifying urge clawing its way up my throat.

I want to do something I have never done before.

I’ve never opened up to anyone. Not to the guys, not even to Mrs. Clay. No one actually knows the true extent of the ruins I had to crawl out of. I have spent my entire life guarding those dark memories. Believing that if anyone saw the full, ugly truth of where I came from, they would see the liability I’ve always feared I am.

But looking at Hadley, I want to tear the walls down. I want to trust her just as much as she trusts me.

Hadley’s fingers trace a slow, feather-light circle over my collarbone, her touch sending a quiet shiver through my skin.

“That moment earlier,” Hadley’s voice is soft, a quiet murmur in the dim room. She shifts slightly, propping her chin on my chest so she can look up at me. Her eyes are even softer, reflecting the pale moonlight filtering through the blinds. “When we were at the house, and Mrs. Clay mentioned you as a kid…with the bruises. You changed the subject.”

A heavy weight settles behind my ribs. I stare up at the shadows on the ceiling, my hand sliding down her bare back, my fingers stroking her skin just to keep myself tethered to the present.

We're here. She's here.

I let out a deep, ragged sigh, the sound scraping raw against the quiet of the room. With a heavy heart, I finally force the words past my lips.

“My mom left when I was nine,” I whisper.

Hadley’s fingers freeze against my chest. She doesn't speak. She just listens, and I slowly force the words past my lips.

“She didn’t just disappear,” I continue, the words tasting like ash as I keep my eyes locked on the dark ceiling. “I actually saw her leave. It was the middle of the night, right after this massive, screaming fight between her and my dad in the kitchen. I remember standing at the top of the stairs, clutching the railing, watching her drag a suitcase toward the front door. I begged her to stay. I was crying, asking what we had done wrong. What I had done wrong. And she just looked up at me with this cold, hollow face and told me she was leaving because this life, because we, weren't enough to make her stay.”

I swallow hard, taking a moment to control the emotions bubbling up inside me before I continue.