He reaches for the corner of the bedding and wipes his face before crawling back up my body, still breathing fast. I grab his face and kiss him like I can taste the version of myself I’d become in his mouth.
“You okay?” I ask.
He winks at me. “More than okay. I fucking love your body, Wren.”
22
CATFISH
Imean those words to my bones. Never had someone ride me like that, even though I’ve wanted them to. Most feel like they’re gonna squash me or suffocate me, but that’s the whole fucking point.
And when Wren just let go and did as I asked, that heady feeling, the rush of wanting to get them off before I passed out kicked in. Not sure what kink you call that, but it was the closest I’ve come to living it out. The world started to get hazy toward the end.
When tonight is over, I’m gonna tell Wren about it so they can take their sweet time over me, and I can reach the point where everything fades to black.
I reach for the condom, but my hand shakes as I do. Some heady combination of adrenaline and nerves floods through me.
“River,” Wren says as I rip open the packet and put it on. “Are you okay?” Their gaze meets mine.
“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re everything I wanted.”
And with that, I line my body up against theirs. I’m sure they can feel me tremble as I do. And I hover over them, not just for a breath, but for a moment of clarity.
Because if I move, if I push in even an inch, I’m sealing the words I just said.
That, somehow, Wren has crept into my veins and become more than desire.
It’s more than getting off, or claiming, or any of the MC bullshit we throw around to mask the real shit going on underneath.
This is Wren.
And I want them.
They look up at me, flushed and open, already wrecked by my mouth. The axis of the world tilts beneath me.
“You ready?” I ask. The head of my dick rubs up against their warmth and wetness. And I’m so hard, I don’t even need to use my hand to guide it in.
Instead, I tuck a curl of hair behind Wren’s ear.
They nod. “Make me feel like yours.”
I try not to overthink the wordsfeel like, but I wish they’d simply saidmake me yours.
Or even better, simplyI’m yours.
My eyes fixed firmly on theirs, I press in slow. I’m so close from what we just did, but I want to savor the heat of them, the tight wet pull as I breach them, without coming.
Even so, the move steals the air from my lungs, and Wren gasps beneath me, arms tightening around my shoulders.
I bottom out in one slow thrust, buried to the hilt, and I hold myself there, even as my arms shake. “You feel…holy shit, Wren. You feel perfect.”
Wren kisses me, then, hard and sweet, like they’re trying to anchor us both tightly in this moment. And I don’t want to move and ruin the perfection of it.
A moment that feels more like a homecoming.
Like the place I’m meant to be is actually with Wren, not a physical location.
But the intensity becomes too much, and so I move. Slowly, at first, with long strokes. Wren’s hips roll against mine, moving with the same rhythm. Showing me with every moan, gasp, and desperate grip of my skin how badly they want this.
