Page 42 of Midnight Lessons

Closing my lips around the end, I bob my head. Down and up. Down and up. I find my rhythm, and it’s not long before my saliva mixes with his pre-cum, my lips gliding with ease. His hands tangle in my hair, squeezing a handful and pressing my head down until I gag.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Just feels so good.”

I stop, not because I gagged, but because I need him inside me. Climbing back on top, I position his cock between my legs, and he sucks in a deep breath. But I don’t put it in, not yet. A smirk curls the corner of my mouth, knowing he’s as helpless for me as I am for him.

“I want you to know something,” I say breathlessly. “I love you, Owen. I’m not sure if now is the best time to say it considering I’m holding your cock in my hand, and I’m about to slide you insideme.” I pause, and he huffs a small laugh. “But I do.”

“Love you, Low. Even more than I love fucking you. Now get me inside that tight little cunt.”

Oh, god.I love it when he talks dirty.

I tilt my head back and moan as I lower onto him. The sensation is pleasure and pain, perfectly mixed. I fear he might split me in half at any moment, but it feels so damn good.

It takes me a few pumps to get used to his size, but once I’m nice and wet, I bounce up and down while he grips my hips, holding me in place.

His hands snake up my torso, unclasping my bra as I ride him hard, and my breasts spring free. He massages them, making me tremble with delight as he circles my nipples with his thumbs. My heart hammers against my ribs, my breath emerging in ragged pants as my orgasm builds.

Owen must sense I’m close because he pounds into me harder and faster than before.

“You’re so tight,” he moans. “Your pussy isclenching my cock. Fuck, it’s gonna make me come.”

“So come,” I breathe, riding him like my life depends on it. “Come inside me. Fill me up.”

Slipping a hand between my thighs, I rub my clit with the tips of my fingers to help push me over the edge. I want us to come together. If I time it right…

“Oh, god! Owen!” I shout his name as my climax thunders through me like an avalanche roaring down a mountain.

He lets out a hoarse groan as my body surges, and with one final thrust, he stills inside me, holding me tight. Our connection is indescribable. Unearthly. Like our souls unite, and no force can tear us apart.

Once he’s emptied every last drop inside me, he eases me off him. I rest my head on the pillow as he disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth.

I lie there as he cleans me up, my chest rising and falling as I take deep breaths to regulate my racing heart. I don’t think it’ll ever beat at a regular pacewhen I’m with Owen. It hasn’t since our first kiss when I was seventeen and he put me under a love spell.

He curls up beside me, yanking the blankets up over our naked bodies before cradling me in his arms. His eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a tired but contented sigh.

“I love you,” he whispers into the darkness.

It’s so quiet I almost miss it. But those three words seep into my soul.

“Love you, O.”

He smiles like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.

I smile too because this love? It’s boundless. Infinite. And everlasting.

Chapter 15

Willow

The cursor blinks mockingly on my laptop screen as I scan through the latest batch of screenshots Mark has sent. It’s a digital paper trail, each click and scroll unveiling more of the cruel bet that turned my life into tabloid fodder for Midnight Falls. Owen sits beside me, his jaw set in a hard line while we sift through the evidence.

“Ready?” Owen asks, his blue eyes meeting mine with an intensity that promises retribution.

“Let’s do this.” My fingers fly across the keyboard, inputting information into the social media page dedicated to revealing truths. With a final click, the identities of those who placed bets go live for the entire community to see.

The next day, the doorbell chimes over the bakery door like a confession booth bell. Men shuffle in, sheepish and remorseful, forming a line that snakes past the display case filled with my cookie artistry. They come bearing guilt heavier than the pastries they purchase.

“Willow, I’m sorry,” murmurs one man I’ve never met before, his gaze dropping to the floor. “My wife, she set me straight last night. What we did was wrong.”

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