I unhook it and toss it to the ground, just like last time.
Her fingers make quick work of the buttons on my shirt, her lips warm against my neck, trailing lower across my chest. I feel her mouth on me, slow and certain, and then the shirt joins the bowtie on thefloor.
I find the zipper of her dress, and with one smooth pull, it slips from her shoulders and pools at her feet like silk.
But this time, she turns me toward the mirror on the wall and presses herself against my back—an echo of that first night, but somehow even more intense.
She unbuckles my belt and then my pants, and as they fall to the floor, she brings her head beside my shoulder, looking at me through the mirror, with one hand on my cock, sliding up and down through the slipperiness of my shorts, and the other on my ass, doing the same. In tandem.
As she massages both sides of me, I groan with pleasure, trying to hold her gaze but eventually tipping my head back, eyes closed as the sensations consume me.
She finally reaches inside and takes hold of all of me, stroking with pressure that is both tender and relentless.
“Please.” I hear myself saying, “I’ve wanted this - you - for so long.” And with that, she backs me onto the bed and straddles me, touching the tip of my cock to her wetness, moving herself, around and around, but not letting me enter yet. I begin to thrust, knowing I can’t hold on much longer.
At last, she lowers herself onto me—swallowing me whole—and what follows is a storm.
Hot. All-consuming. Unstoppable.
The kind you don’t survive—you surrender to.
And everything I’ve been holding back for two long years finally erupts inside her.
TWENTY-THREE
RHEA
I feel him everywhere.
Not just inside me, but around me—his hands, his breath, his name on my skin.
And when the storm takes him—when I feel him unravel inside me, it’s like I’m witnessing something raw and holy—something meant for me alone.
We're still wrapped in quiet when he breaks the silence.
"I'm sorry," he says, his voice low. "I didn’t take care of you. I just..."
I reach up, press my fingers gently to his lips.
"Shh," I whisper. "You’ve taken care of me all day."
He exhales softly, leans into my touch.
"About tomorrow," he says, hesitating. "I’m going to need to leave pretty early. But I don’t want to go without making a plan..."
A flicker of panic rises in my chest. "A plan?"
"Yes," he says. "A plan for when I can see you again. This can’t be like before. I can’t have you just... slip away."
I offer a crooked smile, trying to mask theswirl of emotions inside me. I need to tell him. But I’m terrified. I want to see him.
"So, you’re going to give me a call?" I say, trying to sound light.
He grins. "Yes. And not just call—I mean, we haven’t even exchanged book recommendations yet. That’s a serious oversight."
We both laugh, and the tension eases.
"I need to get home, too.” I say.
