Chapter Seventy-Nine

After We Fell

chapter seventy-nine




My thoughts are slightly hazy, and my head feels full and heavy, but in the best way. I’m grinning from ear to ear, intoxicated from the wine and Hardin’s thick voice. I love this playful side of Hardin, and if he wants to play, I’ll play.

    “Oh no,” he says with that cool tone of his. “You tell me what you’d want me to do first.”

    I take a pull straight from the bottle. “I already did,” I say.

    “Chug some more wine; you only seem to tell me what you want when you’ve been drinking.”

    “Fine.” I run my index finger along the cool wooden bed frame. “I want you to bend me over this bed here . . . and take me the way you did on that desk.” Instead of embarrassment, I only feel the warm flush of heat trailing up my neck to my cheeks.

    Hardin curses under his breath; I know that he didn’t actually expect me to answer more graphically. “Then?” he asks quietly.

    “Well . . .” I start, pausing to take another long swig to gain confidence. Hardin and I have never done this before. He’s sent me a few racy text messages, but this . . . this is different.

    “Just say it, don’t be shy now.”

    “You would hold me by the hips, the way you always do, and I’d cling to the sheets to try and keep myself stable. Your fingers would dig into me, leaving marks in their wake . . .” I clench my thighs together when I hear his breathing hitch through the line.

    “Touch yourself,” he says, and I quickly look around the room, momentarily forgetting that no one can hear our private conversation.

    “What? No,” I harshly whisper, cupping the phone.


    “I’m not doing that . . . here. They’ll hear me.” If I were talking to anyone other than Hardin in this way, I’d be completely horrified, wine or not.

    “No, they won’t. Do it. You want to, I can tell.”

    How can he?

    Do I want to?

    “Just lie back on the bed, close your eyes, spread your legs, and I’ll tell you what to do,” he says smoothly. As silken as his words are, they come through as a full-on command.

    “But I—”

    “Do it.” The authority in his voice makes me squirm while my mind and my hormones battle it out. I can’t deny that the idea of Hardin coaxing me through this over the phone, naming the dirty things he would do to me, raises the temperature of the room at least ten degrees.

    “Okay, now that you’ve submitted,” he begins without my actually having said anything, “tell me when you are down to only your panties.”

    Oh . . . But I quietly pad over to the door and turn the lock between my fingers. Kimberly and Christian’s room, as well as Smith’s, is on the upper level of the house, but as far as I know, they could still be on the first floor with me. I listen closely for movement, and when I hear a door shut above me, I feel better.

    I hurry and grab the wine bottle, finishing it off. The heat inside of me has turned from a small flicker to a blazing inferno, and I try not to overthink the fact that I’m stepping out of my pants and climbing onto the bed, wearing only a thin cotton shirt and panties.

    “Still with me?” Hardin asks, an evil smirk surely on his face.

    “Yes, I’m . . . I’m preparing.” I can’t believe I’m really doing this.

    “Stop overthinking it. You’ll thank me after.”

    “Stop knowing everything that I’m thinking,” I tease, hoping that he’s right.

    “You remember what I showed you, right?”

    I nod, forgetting that he can’t see me.

    “I’ll take nervous silence as a yes. Good. So, just press your fingers where you did last time . . .”