Room 512 (3)

~ Tyler ~

I haven’t been able to think straight since that night.

Hayley.

In my bed. In my mouth. Wrapped around my cock like she was crafted just for me.

I’ve had a lot of sex. Plenty of bodies, pretty faces, quick fixes. But nothing ever hit like her. Nothing ever stuck.

She fit like a drug I didn’t know I needed. Like heat and hunger and that sweet, filthy girl who used to write me letters she never thought I’d read twice, let alone memorize.

And now, I’m standing in a navy-blue suit, drink in hand, watching her walk into the reception like a fucking fever dream.

I saw her earlier, briefly, during the ceremony. But now? Now she’s in a red dress. Again. A different one this time, but just as tight and deadly. And I know without even asking, that she meant it.

The ceremony just wrapped. We’re in that in-between moment where people are wandering around, champagne flutes half-empty, the DJ testing sound while the real party waits to begin.

My fingers twitch around my glass.

She sees me and smiles slowly. Like she’s already imagining what I might do to her once I get her alone again. I swear the air leaves my lungs for a second.

Damon leans in beside me. “You good?” He teases.

“Fine,” I say, eyes still locked on Hayley.

She’s talking to someone now, nodding politely. But she keeps glancing at me. Like we have our own language. Like she remembers exactly how it felt when I had my mouth between her thighs and made her scream my name.

I adjust my collar.

God, I need a fucking minute.

I find her near the terrace later, half-hidden in the shadows, sipping from a glass of champagne and watching the sunset like she’s not the most dangerous thing out here.

“Thought you might not show,” I say, stepping beside her.

She smirks without looking at me. “You kidding? Damon’s practically family. And I wasn’t about to miss the chance to see if you meant what you said about that rematch.

I lean closer. “I always mean what I say.”

She glances at me then, eyes glittering. “So what’s the plan, Benson? Gonna drag me into the coat closet before the cake’s cut?”

“That depends,” I murmur. “You still soaked for me? Still thinking about how I made you come so hard you forgot your name?”

Her breath hitches.

Bullseye.

I step behind her, real close, just enough to make her body brush mine. My lips graze her ear.

“Because I haven’t stopped thinking about your taste,” I whisper. “Or the way you begged me. That sweet little voice, all wrecked and desperate.”

She exhales sharply, like she can’t decide whether to slap me or climb me.

I lower my hand, let it trail gently over her lower back.

“If I pull you into that bathroom right now, Hayley… you gonna behave?”

She turns to face me fully, cheeks flushed, eyes wild.

“I think you know the answer.”

My jaw tightens. She’s a fucking menace.

And I love it.

But just before I can pull her toward the nearest door, someone calls her name. Loudly.

She sighs. “Duty calls.”

I smirk. “Then go. But don’t think you’re escaping.”

She lifts a brow. “You gonna keep chasing me all weekend?”

I lean down, lips brushing her cheek. “No, baby. I’m gonna catch you. Again. And again. Until you forget how to walk straight.”

She shivers. “You’re filthy.”

“And you’re soaking through that dress. Go see who needs you. Then meet me upstairs. Room 206 this time.”

She walks off, hips swaying.

And I?

I down the rest of my drink and pray the reception ends early.

Because tonight, I’m making her scream louder.

And this time I’m taking everything. Her mouth. Her body. Her soul. I won’t stop until every part of her belongs to me.

~~~

By the time I slip out of the ballroom and head up to Room 206, I’m already half hard. I strip my jacket and toss it on the chair. Pour a glass of whiskey. But don’t drink it.

I pace.

Five minutes pass.

Ten.

I’m just about to go back down and drag her up myself when the door handle clicks.

She steps inside.

Flushed cheeks. Bare legs.

I let the silence stretch as she closes the door behind her.

Faint music drifts up from the ballroom downstairs, a slow jazz number, romantic and all wrong for what I’m about to do to her.

“I’m here now,” she says softly, stepping into the room like a dare.

I stalk toward her, slow and controlled. “Hayley.”

She stops.

My voice is low, warning. “Take off the dress.”

Her breath catches, but she doesn’t argue. Just reaches back, unzips, and lets the fabric slip from her shoulders.

It falls like a whisper.

She’s completely bare underneath.

My jaw flexes. “Fuck.”

I reach for her, dragging her against me with both hands. My mouth crashes to hers, harder this time. Less patience, all claim.

A needy sound slips from her lips as I walk her backward toward the bed, our lips bruising, our bodies crashing together like we’ve been starved.

She drops onto the mattress, breathless, her legs parting in silent invitation.

“Did you come with them?” I ask.

“Yes, they’re in my purse.” she says.

“Good.”

I kneel between her thighs, hands gripping them tight. “You been thinking about this all night?”

She nods, dazed.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” she gasps. “I couldn’t stop.”

“Couldn’t stop what?”

“Wanting you.”

I smirk darkly, dragging my mouth over her inner thigh. “That’s more like it.”

I bury my face between her legs.

Her breath breaks in a sharp sob, hands clinging to my scalp like a lifeline. Back arching as I lick her slow and deep. I take my time. Flick my tongue. Suck her clit. Devour her.

She tastes like wine and wicked promises.

“You’re already so wet,” I murmur against her. “Were you dripping during dinner, Hayley?”

“Yes,” she whimpers. “I kept thinking you’d pull me under the table.”

I groan. “Fuck. You’re trouble.”

She jerks when I slide two fingers into her, curling them just right.

Her hips buck. “Tyler—!”

I pin her down, grinning against her skin. “Come on my mouth.”

It only takes a minute.

She shatters, loud…raw, shaking. Her thighs clamp around my head as she rides it out, panting my name like it’s holy.

I wipe my mouth and stand, unbuckling my belt. Her eyes stay locked on my cock as I stroke it, slow, teasing.

“Get on your knees.”

She scrambles up, obedient and wild.

I guide her hand to wrap around me. Her fingers squeeze, just right.

Then her mouth.

Jesus Christ.

She’s good. Too good. Warm lips, wet tongue, eyes fluttering as she bobs her head and moans like she loves the taste of me.

I fist her hair, barely holding on. “Fuck… Hayley, stop. Or I’m gonna come.”

She pulls off with a wicked little smile. “That’s the plan, right?”

I growl. “Not yet.”

I hook my hands under her thighs and lift her effortlessly, like she weighs nothing. She gasps, clutching at my shoulders.

In two steps, I’ve got her laid out on the bed, back hitting the sheets, legs still wrapped around my waist.

I press her down, spreading her thighs wide. Her hair fans across the pillow, wild and perfect, lips parted like she’s already begging.

She looks like sin. Fucking perfect.

I line myself up and slide into her with one long, hard stroke.

We both groan.

“Jesus,” I hiss, holding her hips. “You were made for this.”

I fuck her slow at first, deep strokes that have her clenching around me and moaning into the sheets.

“Tyler—so full—”

“You can take it,” I growl. “You want it. You’ve been dreaming about this since high school, haven’t you?”

She nods frantically. “Yes. Yes. I used to think about you fucking me like this.”

I pound into her harder.

“Yeah?” I snap. “You touched that pretty pussy thinking of me?”

“Every time,” she cries.

I lose it.

One hand wraps around her throat as I slam into her, faster now, harder. My other hand slides between her legs, rubbing her clit with fast, ruthless circles.

“You gonna come for me again?” I pant. “So soon?”

“I can’t hold—Tyler—I’m—” she whimpers, already right there, shaking.

But just when she’s about to tip over the edge, I pull out. Fast. Her body jerks, the loss of friction making her gasp.

“What—Tyler—” she cries out, desperate.

I grin darkly, wiping the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. “Not yet..”