Page 134 of The Pucking Date
That’s all she says. Justyou.
And it unravels something deep.
My voice drops. “Red…”
She hesitates. Then, “I have something to tell you.”
I shake my head. “Hotel first. Talk after.”
Her brows knit. “Not going back to your place? I left my bag there.”
“You won’t need a single thing in it,” I murmur, pressing her to the car.
She blinks. “Presumptuous.”
“Confident.” I grin. “My mom and sister and the twins are there. What I plan to do to you tonight? Illegal in three states and disrespectful under Vivian O’Reilly’s roof.” Her eyes go wide as I kiss the corner of her mouth. “Scream-all-night kind of plan, darlin’. You in?”
Her smile answers for her. She gets in the car without another word.
The drive to the Umstead is short. Silent. My palm stays anchored on her thigh the entire way, firm, steady, like I’m reminding both of us that she’s not going anywhere this time.
The hotel rises ahead, clean lines of stone and glass nestled into green like it was born from the landscape. Elegant. Private. Exactly what we need.
We step out of the car. A porter takes my keys without blinking, his expression smooth as marble. If he notices the gym clothes or the sweat, he’s either too professional to react, or too smart to care.
Check-in is fast. A keycard tucked into a velvet folder like we’re here for a romantic weekend instead of whatever this beautiful, volatile, overdue thing is between us.
I don’t let go of her waist once. My fingers trace low, lazy circles over her hip like I’ve got a claim to stake and no patience for ceremony.
The door to our suite clicks open. The scent inside is all warmth and wealth—sandalwood, linen, the faintest hint of citrus. Clean and quiet and a million miles away from grief and guilt and fighting not to want her.
The second the door shuts, I’m on her.
“Wait,” she whispers, hands on my chest. “Finn, I need you to know?—”
“What, Red?”
“I missed you. Every night. I’d reach for you, and you weren’t there.” Her words break. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”
I cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t see coming. “You didn’t lose me, darlin’. You couldn’t. I’m yours, remember?”
Her back hits the wall. My hands hike up her dress. Her breath catches as I drag her panties down and toss themsomewhere I don’t plan to retrieve them from anytime soon.
“Finn,” she gasps, fingers clutching at my shoulders. “We should talk—oh.”
“You were saying?” I murmur, lifting her leg over my shoulder and dropping to my knees, taking a slow first lick. Jesus, I missed her.
“Um.” She sounds dazed, as I find her clit and give her a gentle bite. “Oh, God,yes.”
Satisfaction washes over me as I draw her clit between my lips and suck. She grinds against my face, going fucking wild.
“It seems you need it bad, sugar,” I tease, continuing to feast. The sweetest taste, and she is finally all mine. I don’t hold back while I eat her out, until she gushes all over my face in a screaming orgasm.
“Finn, oh Finn,” she weeps, holding my head tight as I continue swiping my tongue over her pussy, drawing her orgasm out. I stand up and take off my T-shirt with one hand, push my shorts down, precum leaking from the tip of my cock.
Jessica is still shuddering from the throes of her climax when I grab her hips, lift her up, and line the tip of my cock with her entrance. I’ve been on edge for weeks, and if I have to wait one more second to fuck her, I will explode. Wasting no time, I plunge inside her. I tug at the zipper of her dress, dragging it down until the fabric pools around her waist, leaving her bare to me.
“No bra again, darlin’?” I murmur, eyes locking on her breasts. “You trying to kill me?”
