Chapter 193 : My Arm Wrapped His.

Chapter 193 : My Arm Wrapped His.


HAYDEN’S POV:

The bass from that fucking campus club was still rattling around inside my skull, matching the rhythmic, heavy throb of the tequila flowing through my veins.

It was our last night in this godforsaken town.

Our last night in this camp before we packed up every single piece of baggage literal and emotional and drove the hell out of here toward the United FC facility.

We had spent the last four hours drinking like the world was ending, celebrating the fact that we were finally free.

The group had fractured in the best fucking way possible around midnight.

Amber had been eyeing some tall, dark-haired guy by the bar who actually looked at her like she was a person and not a headline, and by one o’clock, she’d given us a sloppy, triumphant wave before trailing him out the front door.

Ten minutes later, Blake had hooked her arm through some regular from the gym, looking entirely ready to take whatever she wanted for the night and leave no survivors.

That left Stephen and me.

We were drunk, staggering, and so intensely dialed into each other that the rest of the crowded, sweaty bar had just faded into background noise.

The second the door to our apartment slammed shut behind us, the remaining air in my lungs completely evaporated.

"Hayden," Stephen choked out, his voice thick, rough, and dripping with the same desperate heat that was currently tearing through my gut.

"Shut up," I growled, lunging forward.

I didn't give him a chance to respond. I slammed him back against the heavy wood of the front door, the impact echoing loudly in the quiet apartment.

My mouth crashed onto his, tasting like lime, salt, and possessiveness.

Stephen let out a sharp, ragged gasp against my lips, his hands instantly flying to my hair, gripping the strands with a white-knuckled intensity that made me fucking growl.

We were clumsy because of the alcohol, frantic and messy in a way we hadn't been in months. There was no fear tonight.

No lingering shadow of leaked tapes, no paranoia about who was watching, no courthouse anxieties suffocating our chests.

It was just us.

I hooked my fingers into the collar of his shirt and yanked, the fabric tearing open with a satisfying rip as buttons scattered across the hardwood floor.

Stephen laughed….a breathless, wicked sound that went straight to my dick and he retaliated by tearing the belt of my jeans, his fingers trembling but determined as he shoved the heavy denim down my hips.

"Bed," Stephen gasped out, his eyes dark, pupils completely blown out as he tried to catch his breath. "Hayden, fucking now."

"Right here," I muttered against his throat, biting down on the soft skin right over his pulse point until he whined. "I’m not waiting another fucking second."

I grabbed his thighs, lifting him effortlessly. Stephen wrapped his legs around my waist, his back pressed hard against the door as I held him there, our heavy breathing filling the small entryway.

I managed to rid us both of the rest of our clothes, the discarded fabric pooling around our ankles until there was nothing left between us but heat and friction.

My hands were all over him, bruising and heavy, leaving marks I knew he’d still be wearing when we drove past the city limits tomorrow.

He looked handsome like this…wrecked, flushed, and completely mine.

"Please, Hayden. Fucking do it." His head fell back against the wood, his throat exposed, a desperate, beautiful mess.

I didn't hesitate. I prepared him quickly, my fingers slick, pushing inside him until his eyes went wide and he bit his lower lip to keep from screaming.

He was tight, his muscles clamping around me in a way that had me swearing violently under my breath.

"Look at me," I commanded, my voice dropping into a rough, gravelly register.

Stephen’s eyes snapped to mine, heavy and wet with tears of friction and sheer pleasure.

The moment our gazes locked, I drove myself deep inside him in one solid

thrust.

Stephen let out a loud, undone cry, his fingers digging into the muscles of my shoulders so hard his nails drew blood.

The sensation was so intense, so violently good, that my vision swam. I held him tightly against the door, pinning his weight with my body as I began to move, establishing a brutal, rhythmic pace that left no room for gentleness.

It was raw and filthy.

It was everything we had been suppressing while the world tried to tear us apart. Every ounce of anger, every scrap of adrenaline from the contracts, and every bit of lingering frustration from the last year was poured into the way I fucked him.

The slaps of our skin meeting, the ragged sound of our breathing, and the desperate, breathless curses Stephen kept moaning into my ear filled the room.

He was shifting against me, meeting every heavy push with an urgency that was driving me over the absolute edge.

"You're mine," I growled, my teeth grazing his shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat. "Say it, Steph. Fucking say it."

"Yours," he choked out, his voice breaking as his hips twitched frantically against mine. "Always yours. Oh god, Hayden, I'm gonna…"

"Come for me," I ordered, my pace turning frantic, completely unhinged.

I hit that perfect spot inside him again and again until Stephen’s entire body went rigid. A loud, high whine left his throat as he came hard between our chests, his muscles contracting around me in a violent, desperate vice grip.

That was the final fucking straw.

With two more deep, heavy thrusts, I buried myself as deep as I could go inside him and let go, a roar ripping out of my chest as my own orgasm tore through me, white-hot and blinding.

For a long time, neither of us moved.

I kept him pinned against the door, my chest heaving against his, our heartbeats drumming a wild rhythm against each other's ribs.

Slowly, the adrenaline began to recede, leaving behind the heavy, comfortable warmth of the alcohol and the profound, unbreakable peace of our reality.

I slid out of him carefully, letting his feet touch the cold floor, though I kept my arms wrapped securely around his waist so his weak knees didn't give out.

Stephen buried his face in my chest, his breath hot against my skin, a soft, exhausted chuckle vibrating against me.

"We're definitely going to be sore for the drive tomorrow," he murmured, his voice completely spent.

I smiled into the darkness of the hallway, kissing the top of his damp head. "Let them look at us when we arrive. We're going to the big leagues, Steph. And we're doing it exactly like this."