Not really.
Just pauses in between—her head on his chest, legs tangled, breath coming back to center—before one of them reached for the other again. It wasn’t just desire. It was years of longing, of almosts and what-ifs, finally finding a home in skin and sighs and whispered I love yous.
She rode him slow, her hands braced on his chest while his thumb traced lazy circles over her clit.
He bent her over the back of the hotel couch, kissing her spine while she shook from the second orgasm in as many hours.
She begged for him to stay inside after, to keep her full and warm while they curled together, and he did.
She was boneless in his arms, lips swollen, legs shaking, still gasping from the last round when he scooped her up and carried her to the wide floor-length mirror beside the closet.
“Dylan,” she murmured, already breathless again. “What are you—?”
He turned her gently, their bodies flush, her front against the cool glass and his chest warm against her back. One hand curved around her hip, the other trailing up her arm to lace their fingers together. Their eyes met in the reflection.
“Look at us,” he said roughly, his voice dark and thick with emotion. “Look at you.”
Ali’s eyes flicked away, a self-conscious flicker, but he brought their joined hands to her chest, holding her there.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Every inch of you. This body. This skin. This heart. All mine now.”
She trembled as he nudged her legs apart, dragging the head of his cock through her folds. She was slick and sensitive and still aching for more.
“Dyl…”
“Watch, baby,” he whispered, lining up and pushing in slowly. “I want you to see how it looks when I love you.”
He filled her in one long, thick thrust, and her eyes fluttered closed again.
“No,” he rasped, brushing her hair back from her shoulder. “Eyes on me.”
She forced them open, biting her lip as he began to move—slow and deep, grinding into her in long, deliberate strokes.
“You take me so good,” he breathed, watching her reflection unravel. “Every single time. My perfect girl.”
Her hands reached for the mirror for balance, but he caught them, holding them in place against the glass.
“Can’t go anywhere,” he murmured. “You’re mine now. My fiancée.”
That word. That word lit her up like fireworks.
Ali moaned, her body clenching around him as he fucked her slow and hard, hips smacking against her ass.
“You feel that?” he groaned. “That’s how I’ll always come back to you. Like I was made for it. For this.”
She was shaking now, her breath turning to sobs of pleasure. Her release built slowly, then consumed her all at once, her body clenching so hard it dragged him under with her.
He let go inside her with a guttural moan, their eyes locked in the mirror the entire time.
They stayed like that—tangled, trembling, breathless—until her knees gave out and he caught her.
Then he carried her back to bed, tucked her close, and kissed the ring on her hand one more time.
By the time morning hit, the suite smelled like sex and room service, and his back was sore in the best possible way.
Ali was curled under the blanket now, hair wild, cheek pressed to his bare chest.
Dylan smiled at the mess they were, kissing her temple.
