My moans grow louder, my body arching as he hits that spot inside me that makes me see stars. He’s relentless, his cock slamming into me with a force that has me screaming his name,over and over again, until I’m trembling on the edge of another orgasm.
“Cum for me,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. “Cum on my cock, Peach. Let me feel you.”
I can’t hold back. My body convulses as I cum hard, my walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper. He growls, his pace faltering as he follows me over the edge, his cock pulsing inside me as he spills himself deep within.
He collapses against me, his breath hot against my back, his hands still gripping my hips. “Perfect Peach,” he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied. “You took me so fucking well.”
I’m still trembling, my body spent, but the way he says it, the possessive edge in his voice, sends a shiver down my spine. He pulls out slowly, and I whimper at the loss, my legs trembling as I try to stay upright.
He turns me around, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he looks down at me. “You’re mine, Jasmine,” he says, his voice firm. “And I’m not done with you yet.”
My breath catches as he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “Next time,” he growls, “I’m going to make you scream even louder.”
He lifts me up like I weigh nothing, and my legs instinctively wrap around his waist. My back hits the fridge with a soft thud as his hands grip my thighs, his mouth devouring the space between my jaw and shoulder with a hunger that makes my toes curl.
“Actually,” he mutters against my skin, “I’m going to do that right now.”
“Landon—” I gasp, half-laughing, half-melting. “I don’t think?—”
“No,” he growls, nipping the underside of my jaw. “You’re going to be a good girl for me and cum as many times as I want.”
The heat in his voice sends a spark of electricity across my skin. I whimper, caught somewhere between breathless and hysterical, my hands fisting the back of his messy hair just as he starts walking us toward his room like a man with a mission.
We don’t make it far. My phone rings.
It vibrates on the kitchen table—and we both pause. His lips are on my throat, kissing up the side like he has no intention of letting go, as he paces us backwards to where the phone sits.
I fumble for the phone, swiping it off the counter as Landon grumbles in my ear. “Whoever is calling better have a damn good reason, because I swear?—”
I answer without checking the caller ID, still giggling as Landon’s nose grazes the curve of my neck. “Hello?”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end.
Then: “Hey… it’s me.”
I blink, instantly sobering. “Cast?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Are you home right now?”
My brows pull together. “Yeah, why? You sound weird.”
Another pause. I hear something in the background—maybe a door closing, maybe nothing. He exhales hard, like he’s bracing himself.
“You’re gonna want to sit down for this.”
My blood turns to ice.
I pale instantly, heart kicking hard against my ribs as I slide out of Landon’s arms, my back hitting the fridge for support. “What’s wrong? Is Willow okay?”
“No—she’s fine,” Cast rushes to say. “It’s not Willow.”
“Then what is it?” My voice cracks. “Cast, what?—”
“There’s no easy way to say this,” he cuts in quietly.
A long silence.
Then: “Tommy’s dead.”
