The Aftermath

CHASE

I pulled back just enough to look down at her. She was a beautiful wreck beneath me—chest heaving, skin slick with sweat, eyes glassy and unfocused. A deep flush spread from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. My sheets were ruined. She was ruined.

And I was still buried to the hilt inside her, rock hard, the condom stretched thin and slick.

The urge to chase my own release was almost painful, but I wasn’t ready for this to end yet.

“Open your mouth,” I said, voice low and rough.

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy. “What?”

“Open. Your. Mouth.”

Slowly, she obeyed. Swollen lips parted.

I leaned down close and let saliva pool in my mouth, then dropped it—a long, clear string landing on her tongue.

Her body jolted. A shocked, broken sound escaped her. Eyes wide, dark with filthy hunger. She swallowed.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“Again.”

I did it twice more. Each time she took it, throat working, hips rolling helplessly beneath me. The sight of her accepting it so eagerly was one of the hottest, most intimate things I’d ever seen.

“You like that?” I murmured against her lips.

She moaned, desperate and pleading.

My hand slid up her body and wrapped around her throat. Not squeezing hard—just holding. Possessing. Thumb over her racing pulse. Her breathing hitched. Eyes locked on mine, wide, trusting, and burning.

“Chase,” she breathed.

I started moving again. Slow, deep thrusts that made her feel every inch. Each stroke pressed my hand firmer against her throat. Her eyes rolled back. Hands flew up to grip my wrist, holding me there.

“Tighter,” she gasped.

I tightened my grip just enough to make her lightheaded, to sharpen every sensation. Her mouth fell open on a silent cry as her walls clamped down around me.

“God, you look so fucking good like this,” I groaned. “Taking everything I give you.”

I fucked her harder, the bed slamming against the wall in a punishing rhythm. The room filled with wet skin slapping, choked-off moans, and my ragged breathing.

I wanted more. Every angle of her.

I pulled out suddenly. She whimpered at the loss.

“Don’t worry,” I rasped. “I’m not done.”

I flipped her onto her side, facing away from me. Lifted her top leg over my thigh and slid back into her in one smooth, deep thrust. She cried out, pushing back against me.

I set a hard, steady pace, one hand cupping her breast while the other tangled in her hair. I gripped it at the scalp and pulled her head back just enough to arch her neck.

“Look at me,” I ordered.

She twisted, looking back over her shoulder. Face flushed and wrecked, eyes dazed.

“That’s it. I want you to see exactly who’s fucking you.”

I drove into her harder, using the grip on her hair to keep her arched and open. The angle let me hit her perfectly while I watched every flicker of pleasure cross her face.

She was close again. I could feel it.

But I needed her eyes when she fell apart.

I pulled out, helped flip her onto her back, and settled between her thighs once more. Hooked her legs over my arms, folding her nearly in half, and pushed back inside with one deep stroke.

We both groaned.

Face to face. No hiding.

I braced on my forearms, caging her in, our faces inches apart.

“Look at me, Sloane,” I whispered, voice hoarse. “Right here.”

Her dazed eyes found mine. The raw vulnerability in them hit me harder than anything physical tonight.

I kissed her—slow, deep, devastating. A claiming. My tongue swept into her mouth as I started rocking into her with deep, grinding thrusts that hit every perfect spot.

She moaned into my mouth, arms wrapping around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair like she was afraid I’d disappear.

I picked up speed, thrusting harder, grinding against her clit with every stroke. Her nails dug into my shoulders. Her breath hitched.

“Come for me,” I growled against her lips. “Look at me and come.”

Her eyes stayed locked on mine as the orgasm crashed over her. Body seizing, nails raking my shoulders, a raw cry tearing from her throat as she clenched rhythmically around me.

The sight of her—completely undone, completely mine—shattered me.

With a hoarse shout, I buried myself deep and came hard. Pleasure ripped through me in violent waves. I pulsed into the condom, shaking, vision blurring at the edges.

We collapsed together in a sweaty, tangled mess.

I stayed inside her, unwilling to move. Her face was buried in my neck, heart hammering against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and pressed a soft kiss to her damp hair.

“Don’t move,” I murmured.

She let out a soft, contented sound and snuggled closer. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

For a while, everything felt perfect. The room was wrecked. The sheets were ruined. And I had never felt more at peace.

Then she stirred.

Her breathing changed. Fingers curled against my chest.

“Chase…”

“No.”

A soft, tired laugh. “I have to go.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.” She pushed gently against my chest. I let her up even though everything in me wanted to pull her back down.

She sat up slowly at the edge of the bed and winced, hand going to her lower back. Head bowed, breathing through the soreness.

“You okay?” I asked quietly.

“Fine.” Too quick. Too sharp.

“Sloane.”

“I’m fine, Chase.” She glanced over her shoulder. Sated, sore, already rebuilding her walls. “Don’t make this weird.”

I watched her stand. She moved carefully, gathering her clothes in the dark and dressing methodically. I didn’t offer to help. She wouldn’t have wanted it.

When she was done, she stood at the foot of the bed, hair still messy, lips swollen, outfit back on like armor. She met my eyes for one long second—the same raw look from earlier.

Then she looked away.

“Get some sleep,” she said softly.

The door clicked shut behind her.

I lay there in the dark, in sheets that still smelled like her, staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours.

---

Marcus came back at half past ten.

Keycard. Thud of his duffel. Then silence—the loud kind that meant he was taking it all in.

“…Bro.”

I didn’t look up from my phone.

“Bro.”

“Welcome back.”

He dropped his bag and stared at the wreckage—the tangled sheets, pillow on the floor, crooked lamp.

“Chase Hartley,” he said, almost reverent. “You absolute animal.”

“Go to sleep, Marcus.”

“Absolutely not.” He stepped closer, actually sniffing the air. “This room smells like straight-up Pornhub.”

“I will end you.”

“I’m just saying.” He sat on his bed, grinning. “Who was she?”

“Nobody.”

Eyes lit up. “Nobody, huh? Okay. So… nobody with a name, or—”

“Nobody you know.”

“Right.” He nodded, not believing a word. “What’d she look like?”

“Drop it.”

“I just wanna know who I’m sending a thank-you card to. Because whoever she is, she did the lord’s work. You actually look like a human being again. Haven’t seen that face since October.”

I glared.

He grinned wider. “She local?”

“Drop it.”

“Team? Industry? Did you meet her at the bar downstairs—”

“She’s not from the bar.”

“Ooh.” He sat up straighter. “So you knew her.”

Mistake. I’d walked right into it.

“Interesting,” he drawled.

“Read nothing into that.”

“I’m reading everything into that.” He flopped back, looking far too pleased. “Okay, I won’t push. I’m a gentleman.” A beat. “Is she coming back?”

“No. She went back to her hotel.”

“Her hotel.” He tasted the words. Then his face changed. “Wait.”

“Don’t.”

“Chase… is she a reporter?”

“Go to sleep.”

“CHASE.”

“I mean it—”

“You slept with someone who had a press pass? Our PR team is going to lose their minds. Devereux might actually die.”

“She doesn’t cover the team.”

He paused. “But she is media.”

I said nothing.

“Chase.”

“It’s not a conflict. It’s fine.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then sank back onto his bed like his knees had given out.

“Okay,” he said finally, voice different. “I don’t need to know. You’re a grown man.” He picked up his phone, set it down, picked it up again. “She got a name?”

“Goodnight, Marcus.”

“Just a first name—”

“Goodnight.”

He sighed dramatically and killed the light.

Forty seconds of silence.

“…Was she nice?”

I closed my eyes.

“She sounded nice from the hallway,” he added.

I sat bolt upright. “You were standing in the hallway?”

“People talk, man.” He shrugged, completely unrepentant. “Glad you didn’t kill her, by the way.”

I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him.

He caught it, laughing in the dark.

I turned toward the wall, but I couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at my mouth.

The room still smelled like her.