Slow at first, shallow movements that let him adjust to the angle. But then he shifted, found the spot that made him cry out, and everything changed.
He rode me harder. Faster. Lifted himself up until only the tip was inside, then slammed back down. The sound of skin on skin filled the apartment—wet, obscene, perfect.
"Vance—" He was moaning now, loud and unashamed. "Right there, fuck, right there—"
I thrust up to meet him, matching his rhythm. He was so tight around me, so hot, and the sounds he made were driving me insane. I reached for his cock, stroking him in time with our movements.
"Yes—" He threw his head back. "Don't stop, please, don't stop—"
"Look at me." I needed to see his eyes. "Look at me when you come."
He met my gaze. His eyes were dark, glazed with pleasure, but completely focused on me.
"I love you," he gasped. "I love you, Vance—"
"I love you too." The words tore out of me. "Come for me. Let me see you."
He shattered.
His whole body clenched as the orgasm ripped through him, his cock pulsing in my hand, spilling hot across my stomach and chest. He was beautiful—completely undone, completely mine.
The clench of his body dragged me over the edge. I came so hard my vision went white, emptying myself inside him, my hands locked on his hips as I jerked through the aftershocks.
Afterward, we lay tangled together on the narrow couch.
His head rested on my chest. My arms were around him. The apartment was quiet except for our ragged breathing.
"I don't deserve this," I said.
"Yes, you do."
"How do you know?"
He propped himself up and looked down at me. In the dim light, his face was soft. Certain.
"Because I chose you. And I don't make bad choices anymore."
A laugh escaped me. "That's a low bar."
"It's my bar." He kissed me gently. "And you clear it."
I pulled him back down and held him close.
We were both carrying damage, pieced together from broken parts. But somehow, together, we made something that worked.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't the life either of us had planned.
But it was ours.
And that was enough.
Chapter 19
Tobias
Two weeks after the parent meeting, I reached out to Elizabeth.
The text was simple:I'm sorry. I owe you an explanation. Can we meet?
