The air left his lungs in a rush. She looked up at him through thick lashes, her fingers already undoing the zipper of his pants. He brushed a hand through her hair gently, reverently, until she took him in her mouth and he forgot how to breathe entirely.
“Ali…” he rasped, hips stuttering forward. “Fuck, baby…”
She sucked him slow and deep, one hand curling around his thigh, the other pressing flat to his stomach to keep him grounded. But nothing could anchor him now. Not when she was loving him like this. Not when her eyes flicked up and he could see it—the joy, the possession, the promise.
His hand trembled as he reached for hers and kissed the ring now sitting on her finger. Right there on the hotel room floor.
“My fiancée,” he whispered, like a vow. “Mine.”
She released him with a soft pop, her voice wrecked and breathless. “Yours.”
He groaned and gently threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her there, thumb brushing her cheek. “Open up for me again, baby. Just like that,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Wanna feel that pretty throat take all of me.”
She obeyed, lips parting, eyes locked on his. He eased back into her mouth, guiding her pace, slow and deep.
“Fuck,” he whispered, hips flexing. “So warm—so tight. That mouth was made for me.”
Her throat fluttered around him and he nearly lost it, groaning through clenched teeth.
“You feel that?” he rasped, barely holding on. “That’s what you do to me. Every goddamn time.”
He pulled back before he could come, chest heaving, and hauled her up—his mouth on hers before she could say a word. She melted into him, breath ragged and wanting.
He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently, crawling over her like he couldn’t get close enough.
“You’re not just my forever,” he whispered against her collarbone, kissing a path to her jaw. “You’re my everything.”
Then he slid inside her, slow and thick, filling her in one deep, claiming stroke.
Her gasp turned into a moan as her back arched, legs wrapping around him.
“Jesus, Ali,” he choked out, forehead pressed to hers. “You feel like fucking heaven.”
He didn’t rush it. Not this time.
He moved slowly, reverently, kissing her face, her jaw, her hand again—never letting it go. The ring glinted under the hotel lights, and every time he caught a glimpse of it, it drove him deeper.
“Say it,” he begged softly.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He dropped his forehead to hers, breath ragged. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Dylan. I love you, I love you…”
Her words fell apart as he brought them over the edge together, his name breaking from her lips like a song.
Later, they lay tangled in the sheets, his arm under her neck and her hand resting on his chest, fingers tracing the Tritons logo inked just above his heart.
“Still want wall things?” she teased, drowsy.
He chuckled, kissing the crown of her head.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “But tonight I just wanted you.”
And he had her.
They didn’t sleep.
