I click the toy off when she begins convulsing and extract it from her pussy. The suction lets go with a raw, slick sound as it detaches from her sopping clit. Dropping the toy beside us, I lean forward, pressing my forehead against hers as we catch our breath, our bodies still trembling from the aftershocks.
Her arms wind around my neck, drawing me in and sealing our mouths together. When she finally releases me, I pull back, eyes locked on hers as I slowly withdraw from her ass. I watch, mesmerised, as my cum leaks out of her ass, dripping down between her cheeks.
“God,that’s a beautiful sight,” I say, my voice low and thick. “Do you know how much of a turn-on it is knowing that I’m the only man who’s ever taken your tight little ass?”
Her cheeks stain with colour as her eyes hood.
She’s fucking amazing.
Her hair fans out across the pillow like a halo, framing her beautiful face. Her creamy skin glows, tinged with the blush of her orgasm. I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath, entranced by the subtle movement of her breasts.
She’smine.
“You feel so perfect. You are perfect,” I say, dropping down beside her. I pepper kisses over her shoulders and across her collarbone before wrapping my arms around her. I pull her tight against my chest, our bodies fitting together seamlessly.
“I had no idea sex could be like that,” she says, sounding shy. “James, that was …”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
I gently cup her chin, tipping her head back and capturing her mouth with mine. It’s the only way I know how to communicate right now, letting her feel what words can’t express—that I feel it too.
Words fall short of conveying what this moment with her means to me.
So, instead, I show her.
Chapter 36
April
We’ve spent every free moment together these past two weeks, alternating between each other’s places. After work, we gravitate towards each other, escaping the outside world and losing ourselves in the other’s arms.
I love seeing James in his usual work clothes. There’s something undeniably hot and primal about the dirt and sweat that cling to him. It only gets sexier when I’m the one helping him lather up and wash the grime away.
Every night together feels brand new—fingers and tongues tracing untouched paths, lips documenting every curve and edge of each other’s bodies. I’ve never felt more alive. It feels like a dream—one long, happy dream where nothing exists but us.
But it’s not just the sex, though that is incredible—it’s the way we lie together in silent heartbeats, we talk in the quiet moments afterwards, the soul-nourishing conversations, sharing things we never expected to with each other. I tell him about my parents and my childhood, and about the car accident. I share stories about how I met Anna and Gemma, and James laughs along with me, especially at Gemma’s horror dates.
In turn, he opens up about the band and how they came together. He’s known Oliver for as long as I’ve known Anna. It’sexciting learning about his friends; it helps me understand him a little more. I’ve only ever met the guys in passing, so hearing about their music and the effort they’ve put into auditioning is exciting.
He tells me about his mum and the struggles she faced raising them. I can’t begin to imagine how hard it must have been for James—being just a kid and wearing the responsibility of constantly checking in on her. He’s a remarkable man.
He shares things Lucas never did—parts of his life I never even knew existed. Our friendship has blossomed so naturally, to the point where it feels as though we’ve known each other for years. There was a hole inside me, and James has managed to fill it. It’s the way he pulls me closer in his sleep, like being apart isn’t an option, even unconsciously. The way we laugh together over late-night wine and takeaway.
With James, everything justis.
He’s softened my splintered edges.
We’ve become addicted to each other. By the weekend, our routine seems set in stone—meeting up after he finishes work, talking, exploring each other until the early hours of the morning, and waking wrapped up together.
He’s been so supportive of my ceramics, always offering just the right words when my hands falter or my confidence wavers. It’s the kind of assurance that makes me believe I might actually be able to approach some of the small businesses around the markets to see if they’d consider stocking my pieces. I floated the idea by Gemma and Anna, who both responded enthusiastically.
When James isn’t offering his thoughts, he’s playing his guitar, fingers gliding over the strings as I shape my clay. Words aren’t even necessary. We simply just exist, lost in the beauty of our own creations, together.
But there’s this persistent voice in the back of my mind reminding me that we can’t stay hidden forever. What we’redoing isn’t just fleeting; it’s growing and taking shape into something deeper and more substantial. Though we agreed that we wouldn’t rush into anything, we both know that Lucas will find out about what we’re doing eventually. And when he does, I can’t shake the fear that it’ll be like setting off a bomb.
What will happen when our bubble bursts?
When the safety of this little world we’ve created together is ripped away?
