by Anna Todd
I let out a derisive little chuckle. “Just stop talking.”
As my hand reaches down to palm him through his jeans, I know that he can’t resist me, which pleases me more than it should. I never thought I would be in a situation with Hardin where I’d have all the control; it’s amusing, really, the way we’ve switched roles.
He’s so hard and so turned on, I climb off of him and reach for his zipper.
chapter seventeen
HARDIN
My mind’s racing and I know how wrong this is, but I can’t help it. I want her, need her. Long for her. I have to have her—and she gave me an edict to either leave or fuck her, so there is no way I’m leaving her if those are my options. The words that came out of her mouth sounded so unnatural, so strange . . .
But so hot.
Her small hands reach down to unbutton and unzip my jeans. When my belt hits my ankles, I shake my head. I’m not thinking clearly; I’m not thinking rationally. I’m wasted, completely gone for this usually sweet, now wild woman that I love more than I can stand.
“Wait . . .” I say again, not really wanting her to stop, but the good part of me wants to at least put up a little fight to ease the guilt it feels.
“No . . . no waiting. I’ve waited enough.” Her voice is soft and teasing as she pulls my boxers down and grips me in her hand.
“Fuck, Tessa . . .”
“That’s the idea. Fuck. Tessa.”
I can’t stop her. Not even if I wanted to. She needs this, needs me. And drunk or not, I am selfish enough to take it if this is the only way I can have her wanting me.
She drops to her knees in front of me and takes me into her mouth. When I look down at her, she looks up at me, batting her lashes. Fuck, she looks like an angel and the devil at once, so sweet and so goddamn dirty as she works her tongue around me, swirling and flicking.
She pauses with my cock next to her face and asks with a smirk, “You like me like that?”
I almost come from her words. I nod, unable to speak, as she swallows me again, hollows her cheeks, and sucks harder, taking more of me into her sweet mouth. I don’t want her to stop, but I need to touch her. To feel her. “Stop,” I beg and gently push her back by her shoulder. She shakes her head and tortures me by moving her head up and down at a dangerous speed. “Tessa . . . please,” I moan, but I feel her laugh, a deep vibration that rumbles through me until, luckily, she stops just before I’m about to come down her throat.
She smiles and wipes her now swollen lips with the back of her hand. “You just taste so good.”
“Fuck, where did this dirty mouth of yours come from?” I ask her as she gets up off of her knees.
“I don’t know . . . I always think these things. I just never have the balls to say them,” she says and moves toward the bed.
I almost laugh from her saying “balls.” It’s so unlike her, but tonight she’s in charge and she knows it. I can tell she’s enjoying this, having me at her complete and utter mercy.
This dress she has on is enough to break any man. The way the fabric clings to her every curve, every dip in her flawless skin, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. That is, until she pulls it over her head, tossing it at me playfully. I can literally feel my eyes straining to pop out of my head when I take her body in. The white lace of her bra is barely holding her full breasts inside, and her matching panties are bunched up on one side, revealing the soft skin between her hip and pubic bones. She loves to be kissed there, even though I know she’s embarrassed by the thin, almost transparent white lines on her skin. I have no idea why; she is flawless to me, marks and all.
“Your turn.” She smiles and lets her heels hit the bed before she falls backward onto the mattress.
I’ve been dreaming of this since the day she left me. I didn’t think it would ever come, and now that it’s happening, I know that I need to pay attention to every detail because it probably won’t happen again.
I must pause a little bit too long because she cocks her head up and looks at me with a raised brow. “Do I need to start myself?” she teases.
Christ, she’s insatiable right now.
Instead of answering, I join her on the bed. I sit next to her legs and she impatiently tugs at her panties. I move her hands away and pull them down for her.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I say, but she just grabs my hair and pushes my face down where she wants it. I shake my head but give in, pressing my lips against her. She whines and squirms under my tongue as I pay extra attention to her most sensitive bud. I know how much she loves this. I remember the first time I touched her, she had asked, “What is that?”
Her innocence was and still is such a turn-on for me.
“Oh my God, Hardin,” she moans.
I’ve missed that sound. Normally I would say something about how wet she is, how ready, but I can’t find any words. I’m too consumed by her noises and her hands gripping the sheets from the pleasure I’m giving her. I slip one finger inside of her, sliding in and out, and she whimpers.
“More, Hardin, please, more,” she begs, and I give her what she wants. I circle and curl both fingers inside of her before pulling them out and giving her my tongue. I notice her legs stiffening, the way they always do when she’s close. I pull back to watch my fingers rub over her, quickly from side to side, and she screams—literally screams my name—as she comes all over my fingers. I stare at her, taking in every detail, the way her eyes screw shut, the way her mouth forms an almost perfect O, the way her chest and cheeks flush a light pink as she goes through her orgasm. I love her; fuck, do I love her. I can’t help but slide my fingers into my mouth after she finishes. She tastes so good, and it’s something I hope I can remember when she leaves me again.
The rapid rising and falling of her chest distracts me and her eyes fly open. Her beautiful face holds a huge grin, and I can’t help but smile as she hooks her finger to tell me to come closer.
“Do you have a condom?” she asks wickedly as I lean over her.
“Yeah . . .” I answer. A frown takes over the smile, and I hope she doesn’t think too much into this. “It’s just a habit,” I admit truthfully.
“Don’t care,” she mumbles and looks over at my jeans on the floor. She sits up and grabs them, digging in the pockets until she finds what she’s looking for.
I reluctantly grab the foil packet and hold her gaze. “You’re sure?” I ask for the twentieth time.
“Yes. And if you ask again, I will go down to Trevor’s room with your condom,” she barks.
I lower my eyes at her. She’s ruthless tonight, but I can’t imagine her with anyone but me. Maybe because it would kill me. My heart begins to race as I picture her with that faux-Noah, my blood heating and my temper rising.
“Have it your way, then, he’ll be—” she starts to say, but I cut her off by placing my hand over her mouth.
“Don’t you dare finish that,” I growl at her and feel her lips pull into a smile beneath my hand. I know this isn’t healthy, her antagonizing me this way and me fucking her while she’s drunk, but it seems neither of us can help it. I can’t deny her when I know she wants me, and there’s the chance . . . the small chance that if she’s reminded of what we have together she’ll give me another shot. I remove my hand from her mouth and tear open the condom. As soon as I roll it on, she climbs onto my lap.
“I want to do it this way first,” she insists, gripping my length before she lowers herself onto me. I let out a sigh full of defeat and pleasure as she rolls her hips against mine. She moves herself slowly in circles, creating the sweetest rhythm. The shape of her body, the perfect fullness of her curvy hips, is mesmerizing and so fucking sexy as she rides me. I know I won’t last long; I have been deprived for too long. The only relief I’ve gotten lately is from myself while imagining it was her.
“Talk to me, Hardin, talk to me like you used to,” she whimpers and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her. I hate the way she says “use
d to” like it was really so long ago.
I lift off the bed slightly to meet her movements and bring my mouth to her ear. “You like when I say filthy things to you, don’t you?” I breathe and she moans. “Answer me,” I say, and she nods her head yes. “I knew you did—you try to act all innocent, but I know better.” I nip at her neck. My self-control has diminished and I suck her skin harshly, making sure to leave a mark. For fucking Trevor to see. For everyone to see.
“You know I’m the only one who can make you feel like this . . . you know no one else can make you scream the way I can . . . no one knows exactly where to touch you,” I say and reach down and rub her where our bodies join. She’s soaking, my fingers glide easily over the moisture.
“Oh God . . .” she purrs.
“Say it, Tessa, say that I’m the only one.” I rub her clit in tighter circles and move my hips to thrust into her while she continues moving on her own.
“You are.” Her eyes roll back in her head. She’s so lost in her passion for me and I’m joining her.
“I’m what?”
I need to hear her say it, even if she’s lying. My desperation for her terrifies me. I grab her hips and flip us over, me hovering over her, and she shrieks as I pound into her harder than ever before . My fingers dig into her full hips. I need her to feel me, feel all of me, and I need her to love the way I claim her. She’s mine and I’m hers. Her soft skin is glistening with sweat, and she looks absolutely delicious. Her breasts move rhythmically with my force, and her eyes roll back in her head.
“You’re the only one . . . Hardin . . . the only . . .” she says, and I watch her bite her lip, grab at her face, and then at mine. I watch her come completely undone beneath me . . . and it’s beautiful. The way she lets go of everything as she comes is too damn perfect. Her words are all I needed to find my own release, and she rakes her nails down my back. The sting is welcomed, I love the passion between us. I lean up, bringing her body with me, resting her on my lap so she can ride me again. My arms wrap around her back, and her head falls onto my shoulder as I lift my hips off of the bed. My cock moves in and out of her at a steady pace as I spill into the condom with a groan of her name.
I lie back with my arms still wrapped around her body, and she sighs when I run my fingers over her forehead, pushing her sweat-soaked hair from her face. Her chest rises and falls, rises and falls, comforting me.
“I love you,” I tell her and try to look at her, but she turns her head and touches a finger roughly to my lips.
“Shhh . . .”
“I can’t just shhh . . .” I roll her off and say softly, “We need to talk about this.”
“Sleep . . . up in three hours . . . Sleep . . .” she mumbles and wraps her arm around my waist.
Her holding me feels better than the sex we just had, and the idea of sleeping in the same bed as her thrills me, it has been too long. “Okay,” I say and kiss her forehead. She flinches slightly, but I know she’s too exhausted to fight me.
“I love you,” I tell her again, but when she doesn’t say anything else, I soothe myself by deciding she’s already fallen asleep.
Our relationship or whatever this is has done a complete turnaround in just one night. I have suddenly become everything I was terrified of being, and she has complete control of me. She could make me the happiest man on earth, or she could crush me with one word.
chapter eighteen
TESSA
The song of my phone alarm breaks into my sleep like a dancing penguin. Literally, my dream-mind incorporates it as a dancing penguin.
But that pleasant fantasy doesn’t last long. I wake up a little more, and my head immediately begins to pound. When I try to sit up, I am weighed down by something . . . someone.
Oh no. Memories of dancing with some creepy guy flood my mind. Panicked, I snap my eyes open . . . to find instead the familiar tattooed skin of Hardin sprawled across me. He has his head on my stomach and an arm wrapped around me.
Oh my God. What the hell?!
I try to push Hardin off without waking him, but he groans and slowly opens his eyes. He closes them again and lifts himself off of me, untangling our legs. I jump off the bed, and when he opens his eyes again, he doesn’t say anything but just watches me like I’m some sort of predatory animal. The image of Hardin thrusting into me relentlessly and me calling out his name plays through my thoughts. What the hell was I thinking?
I want to say something, but, honestly, I have no idea what. I am freaking out inside, having a total meltdown. As if sensing my struggle, he climbs off the bed, taking the sheet with him and wrapping it around his naked body. Oh my God. He sits in the chair and looks up at me, and I realize I’m only wearing my bra. Instinctively, I squeeze my legs together and sit back on the bed.
“Say something,” he instructs.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” I admit. I can’t believe this happened. I can’t believe Hardin is here, in my bed, naked.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and his head falls into his hands.
My head is pounding from the excessive alcohol I consumed only hours ago and the fact that I slept with Hardin last night. “You should be,” I mutter.
He tugs at his hair. “You called me.”
“I didn’t tell you to come here,” I retort. I haven’t decided how to handle this. I haven’t decided if I want to fight with him, to kick him out, or to try to handle this like an adult.
I get up and head for the bathroom, his voice traveling with me as I do. “You were drunk and I thought you were in trouble or something, and Trevor was here.”
I turn on the shower and look into the mirror. On my neck is a deep red bruise. Freaking hell. As I run my fingers over the sensitive mark, my mind travels to Hardin’s tongue on my skin. I must still be a little intoxicated, because I can’t think straight. I thought I was moving on, and yet here is my heartbreaker in my room, and here I am with a massive hickey on my neck like some wild teenager.
“Tessa?” he says and enters the bathroom as I step into the hot water. I stay quiet as the scalding water rinses off my sins. “Are you—” His voice cracks. “Are you okay with what happened last night?”
Why is he acting so weird? I would’ve expected a cocky smirk and at least five “you’re welcome’s” the second his eyes opened.
“I . . . I don’t know. No, I’m not okay with it,” I tell him.
“Do you hate me . . . you know even more than before?”
The vulnerability laced through his voice tugs at my heart, but I need to stand my ground. Everything about this situation is a mess; I had just started to get over him. No you didn’t, my subconscious mocks, but I ignore her.
“No. It’s about the same,” I say.
“Oh.”
I rinse my hair one last time and give a little prayer that the shower water will rehydrate me out of a hangover.
“I didn’t mean to take advantage of you, I swear it,” he says as I turn the shower off. I grab a towel off of the small rack and wrap it around me. He is leaning in the doorway in only his boxers, his chest and neck littered with red spots of his own.
I’m never drinking again.
“Tessa, I know you’re probably angry, but we have a lot to talk about.”
“No, we don’t. I was drunk and called you. You came here, and we had sex. What else is there to talk about?” I’m trying to stay as calm as I can. I don’t want him to know the effect that he has on me. That last night had on me.
Then I notice the raw skin on his knuckles. “What happened to your hands?” I ask. “Oh my God, Hardin—you beat Trevor up, didn’t you!” I yell, then wince from the shooting pain in my head.
“What? No, I didn’t.” He raises his hands in defense.
“Then who?”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. We have more important things to talk about.”
“No, we don’t. Nothing has changed.” I open my makeup bag and pull out the concealer. I begin applying i
t to my neck generously while Hardin stands behind me silently.
“This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have even called you,” I finally say, annoyed when the third layer of concealer doesn’t cover the spot.
“It wasn’t a mistake, you obviously missed me. That’s why you called.”
“What? No, I called because . . . because it was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”
“You’re lying.”
He knows me too well. “You know what? It doesn’t matter why I called,” I snap. “You didn’t have to come here.” I grab the eyeliner and begin applying it, thick.
“Yes, I did. You were drunk and God knows what could have happened.”
“Oh, like what? I could have slept with someone who I shouldn’t have?”
His cheeks flare. I know I am being harsh, but he should have known better than to sleep with me when I was so drunk. I rake my hairbrush through my wet hair.
“You didn’t give me much of a choice, if you remember,” he says equally harshly.
I remember, I remember climbing onto his lap and grinding myself against him. I remember demanding he have sex with me or leave. I remember him telling me no and to stop. I’m humiliated and horrified at my behavior, but maybe worst of all, I am reminded of the first time I kissed him and he claimed I’d thrown myself at him.
Anger boils inside me and I throw my brush against the counter with a loud clatter. “Don’t you dare try to blame this all on me, you could have said no!” I shout.
“I did! Repeatedly!” he shouts back.
“I had no idea what was going on, and you know it!” I half lie. I knew what I wanted; I’m just not willing to admit it.
But he begins repeating my dirty words from last night—“ ‘You just taste so good!’ ” “ ‘Talk to me like you used to!’ ” “ ‘You’re the only one, Hardin!’ ”—and it pushes me over the edge.
“Get out! Get out now!” I yell and go grab my phone to check the time.
“You weren’t telling me to get out last night,” he says cruelly.