She cried out.
His hands framed her face, his thrusts slow and deep and devastating. “You feel that, baby? How wet you are for me?”
She whimpered, digging her nails into his shoulders, the wall solid at her back, his body even more so in front of her.
“Fuck,” he breathed, “I missed you so bad. You’re mine, Ali. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she gasped. “Yours. Always.”
Her back hit the wall over and over with the rhythm of his thrusts—deep and deliberate, like he was trying to etch this into her bones. She clung to him, breath shaky, the heels giving herjust enough height to take all of him while he worked her body like he owned it.
Which he did.
Every. Damn. Inch.
“Look at me,” he whispered against her mouth. “Eyes on me, baby.”
She did. And what she saw in his face—pure awe, raw hunger, that dark, desperate need—made her whimper.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he rasped, voice almost breaking. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Dylan…”
“I mean it,” he said, sliding one hand down to grip her thigh harder, opening her wider for him, grinding deeper. “I think about this every night. About how perfect you feel. How perfect youlookwhen you fall apart.”
She was close—tooclose—but he wasn’t letting up. Not yet. He slowed the pace just enough to keep her right on the edge, her entire body twitching with need.
“Please,” she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
“I know, baby,” he groaned, sweat beading at his temple. “I know you’re right there. But I want toseeit. Want to feel you go wild for me. Let me hear those pretty noises. Let me wreck you.”
He dipped his head, kissing down her throat, licking at the sweat-slick skin just below her jaw. “You’re mine, Ali. You’ve always been mine.”
Her body clenched hard around him and her head drop back with a cry. “Dylan—oh gawd—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he said fiercely, lips at her ear. “Come for me. Now.”
She shattered. Her thighs trembled around his hips, her heel digging into his back as she came hard—pulse fluttering, voice breaking on a sobbed moan of his name. Her whole body tightened around him like she didn’t want to let go, and he didn’tstop moving, thrusting through it like he needed to feel every second of her falling apart.
“Jesusfuck,” he growled, bracing a hand above her on the wall. “That’s it, sweetheart. That’s my good fucking girl.”
She was still pulsing around him—tight, wet, perfect—when his control snapped.
He let out a strangled groan, deep in his chest, and slammed into her one last time, burying himself as deep as her body would take him. His hips stuttered as he came, eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressed hard to hers.
“Fuck,Ali—” he gasped, holding her like she might slip away, like the only thing keeping him tethered to the world was being inside her.
Her name fell from his lips like a prayer, a curse, a thank-you whispered to the universe for bringing her back to him.
His thighs trembled with the force of it, breath ragged against her cheek as he spilled inside her, hips grinding in slow, broken circles until he had nothing left.
Nothing but her.
They stayed tangled together—his body flush against hers, her back still pressed to the wall, her breath mingling with his. Her heel dug into his thigh, and his hands roamed slowly over her sides, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. His gaze was heavy-lidded, his voice rough from everything they’d just done.
“Abigail’s never getting those heels back.”
