The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)(102)

“You feel so good,” he groans in my ear, and I could come from hearing Rory’s pleasure alone.

He pulls out and pushes back in, hitting a spot inside me that scatters sparks up my spine.

“It’s so deep this way,” I moan.

“I know.” His hand tightens on my shoulder, holding me steady while he thrusts in and out, finding his rhythm, and my nerves start to fray. “So fucking good with you, Hazel. You’re exactly what I need.”

Rory taking his pleasure sends another ripple of heat through me. I clench around his thick length, and a groan rumbles out of him. In the mirror, his eyes burn hotter.

“You like hearing that?” His voice is a low tease in my ear, watching my reflection. “You like hearing that you were exactly what my life was missing and that every moment is better with you?”

My gaze drops to the tattoo over the chiseled muscle of his torso, and I nod.

“Good.” He hits a particularly sensitive spot, making me whimper. “Because you’re so fucking perfect, Hazel.” His hips move faster, and a lock of hair falls into his eyes as he watches me in the mirror with a hungry look.

I moan again, pressing back into him. The way Rory’s hitting my G-spot is making my blood heat and thicken, and I can feel the release building low in my stomach.

“Yes, baby, just like that. Keep taking it.” His eyes are feverish, and the heavy ache between my legs tightens. His gaze drops to the jersey I’m wearing, and his nostrils flare with pride. “As deep as you can.”

My arousal soaks my thighs, and the feel of him inside me with nothing between us? It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

His eyes clench tight like he’s grappling for control. “I’m so fucking close, Hazel.”

“Not yet,” I moan.

He shakes his head, gaze returning to me with a drugged, desperate look in his eyes. “Not yet,” he repeats to himself. “Not yet.” He curses. “You’re so fucking tight.”

I clench my muscles on purpose and his eyes widen.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Hartley,” he says with a laugh. He delivers a sharp slap to my ass before he palms it, squeezing. “I’m obsessed with your ass,” he growls. “Always have been.”

I tighten again, wearing my own smirk as his jaw ticks.

“You want to play?” He leans forward, surrounding me, bringing his hand between my legs, drawing wet circles on my clit in a way he knows is going to make me come.

Fucking antagonist. I hold his eyes in the mirror, clenching tighter, and he shakes his head, wearing that lazy smile, circling faster. A sweet ache of affection takes up all the space in my chest, expanding through me, because knowing Rory and getting to see all the sides of him, it’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.

Love bursts in my chest, and the tremors start.

“Rory,” I moan, dropping my head. It’s too much, the feel of him inside me, pushing against all the spots that make me lose my mind. The competitive focus in his eyes only makes it hotter.

“I hate to lose, Hartley,” he grits out.

My release closes in on me and I see stars, muscles spasming around his arousal. Wave after wave of pleasure ripples through me but I anchor to the feeling of him inside me, his hand gripping my shoulder, and the desperate, possessive look in his eyes as I spin out, shuddering. Again and again, my pussy clamps down on him, and a moment later, I feel him stiffen.





CHAPTER 75





RORY





Being inside Hazel, watching her face in the mirror as she falls apart for me, it snaps me in half.

My hips jerk against her, rhythm turning erratic as I slide toward my release. There’s no holding off, not when she’s wearing my name on her back so enthusiastically, not when her pussy is still squeezing and gripping my cock like a fist, and sure as fuck not when there’s nothing between us and I can feel every slip and slick inside her perfect pussy. The heavy ache in my balls surges and I’m pounding against her, coming inside her, losing my fucking mind with pleasure and need as I groan her name.

It’s always been Hazel.

I give everything I have to give, spilling into her, eyes locked with hers in the mirror as her pussy flutters around me, and when our orgasms subside, I’m pulling her to me, burying my face in her neck and huffing in her scent.

“You’re mine,” I rasp, chest heaving for air, and she nods.

Running on pure instinct, pure desire to claim her in every way, my hand drops to between her legs. I pull out of her, dipping my fingers inside her, watching as her eyes flare with surprise and desire.

“Like that?” I ask, stroking in and out of her, my fingers slipping against the wetness of my release.

She nods, eyes going hazy.

I drag my fingers up between her cheeks, circling the pucker of her ass, drawing my release over her. My heart pounds and possessive instincts roar through me as I push my wet finger inside.

She gasps. The way she’s positioned, braced against the dresser, bent over and open for me, it both satisfies me and makes me want more. As much as she’s willing to give me.

My perfect, trusting Hazel.

“I’m addicted to that look on your face,” I tell her.

My finger pumps in and out, working my cum back into her, and she tightens around me, meeting my gaze in the mirror, lip curling with need. Blood rushes to my cock, and within seconds, I’m stiff again, aching and ready to go.