“Yes you can.” He slid two fingers inside her and crooked them just right, groaning against her. “You’re so damn tight already. Let go for me, baby. Right now.”
She came hard—hips jerking, thighs clenched around his shoulders, his name tumbling from her lips like a prayer. And he didn’t stop until she was twitching beneath him, begging him to.
When he finally pulled away, his mouth was slick, his eyes dark and wild.
“You okay?” he asked softly, crawling up her body, kissing her neck.
She nodded, breath still shaky. “Better than okay.”
“Good.” He grabbed himself, hard and thick and throbbing, guiding the tip against her entrance. “Because I’m not even close to done with you.”
He guided himself inside her—slow and deep—groaning at the feel of her.
Ali gasped, head falling back, her body arching to take more.
They moved together in that slow, desperate rhythm—like they’d waited a decade for this one night. No rush. No words at first. Just the sounds of skin and breath and soft, broken moans in the shadows of their new bedroom.
Then Dylan’s forehead touched hers, and his voice cracked—raw and reverent.
“I love you,” he whispered. “God, I love you, Ali.”
Her hands clutched his back, her legs tightening around his waist. “I love you too,” she breathed. “Always.”
He kissed her—deep and slow—before pressing in harder, faster, their bodies syncing like muscle memory. Like fate.
And when she came again, clenching around him, calling his name, he held her through it—murmuring against her neck, “That’s it, baby. I’ve got you. Always.”
He followed right after, burying his face in her shoulder with a ragged groan, her name the only thing on his lips.
They stayed like that for a while—bodies tangled, breath still catching. The world felt soft around the edges, like it had exhaled with them.
Dylan rolled onto his side, pulling her with him so they were nose to nose, still connected, his hand tracing lazy circles on her back.
Ali blinked up at him sleepily, her fingers brushing the curve of his jaw. “So… this is our bed now.”
He grinned, all slow and wrecked. “Our bed. Our house. Our life.”
She smiled, heart so full it almost ached. “Think we’ll get used to it?”
He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then her temple. “Never. I want every day with you to feel just like this. Like the first time I knew I’d never love anybody else.”
Ali let out a soft sigh and nestled closer, her head tucked under his chin, legs intertwined.
Outside, the world was quiet. Inside, her whole world was wrapped around her.
How You Get the Girl
Dylan
The lights inside the Superdome were blinding.
Dylan McKenzie stood in the center of it all, sweat still slick on his brow, confetti falling like a waterfall of glitter around him. The Tritons had done it. Super Bowl champions. He could barely hear over the roar of the crowd, but it didn’t matter.
His heart was thundering louder than anything else.
He held the MVP trophy in his right hand, still in disbelief. It felt weightless in his grip—because the only thing that mattered was standing thirty yards away in the front row, with tears streaming down her cheeks and a hand clutched over her heart.
Ali.
