The mattress shifts as she obeys, and I drag my hands to her stomach, smoothing oil over the soft planes before moving upward, greedy to map every part of her with my touch. My hands find her breasts, cupping their weight. The cool metal of her piercings contrasts the heated softness of her skin, and when I roll them gently, she arches into my palms with a broken moan.
“That’s it,” I murmur, bending low enough to taste her skin, dragging my tongue over the slick swell of her breast before pulling back. “Let me hear you.”
She squirms, hips twitching, but I take my time, my hands moving over the sharp lines of her hip bones and down the length of her thighs. Her muscles tighten under my palms, and when I press them apart, she lets out a needy whimper.
“Relax for me,” I coax, my thumbs sweeping the tender skin of her inner thighs, dragging higher with every stroke but never quite touching where she aches the most for me.
“You’re killing me,” she pants.
“I’m just getting started.”
I draw the massage out, teasing her until she’s squirming under me, every muscle tense with anticipation. Only when she’s begging do I finally give in, lining up myself at her entrance. Heat and slickness envelop me as I press inside. She wraps her legs around my waist, drawing me deeper, and my name falls from her lips in a chant.
The way she—fuck. Ifeeleverything. Her body clenches tight around me, the slick heat welcoming me in. The way her hips move to match mine is instinctive, like we were made for this. Her heartbeat thunders against my chest, syncing with mine until it’s impossible to tell where I end and she begins.
“I love you,” I moan, the words ripping out of me.
She pulls me down for a kiss, her lips trembling against mine, her lip ring my comfort these days. “I love you, too.”
We move slowly, forgetting the world outside. Every thrust has her gasping, my piercing hitting the perfect spot again and again. I slip a hand between us, rubbing her clit until she breaks. She comes hard, shaking beneath me, her cry muffled against my shoulder.
The feel of her pulsing around me undoes me completely. My orgasm rips through me like fire in my veins. My body jerks, hips slamming forward as I spill inside her, groaning her name against her damp skin. It’s a release so intense it borders on pain, and yet it feels like coming home.
I’m buried deep as we catch our breaths, but I’m not done. I slide out and down her body, kissing and nipping at every inch I can find. Her nipple piercings. Her stomach. Her hips. The insides of her thighs. She whimpers as I settle between her legs, our mixed arousal spilling out.
“You don’t—” she starts, but I hush her with a deliberate stroke of my tongue moving towards her center.
Her fingers grip my hair, her body jerking as I swipe her clean only using my mouth. The taste is heady—a mix of our love and pure sex—and I savor every trace of it. The little sounds she makes drive me absolutely wild. She cries out when I suck at her clit, her hips arching up off the bed.
“Teddy—fuck that feels good.”
I don’t stop until she’s shaking in ecstasy, her second orgasm hitting her in waves. I hold her open for me, loving her with my lips until she’s a boneless mess beneath me.
When I finally crawl up her body, she grabs my face, kissing me. I dip into her mouth and she moans as she tastes the remnants of us on my tongue. “You wrecked me,” she pants between kisses.
I roll onto my back, bringing her with me, and the room settles into a hush broken only by our uneven breaths. Her fingers draw idle shapes on my chest as we lie there together.
“Are you scared for tomorrow?” she asks in a tentative whisper.
The words scrape out of me before I can cage them. “So much.”
Her fingers still against my chest, right over my heart. “Then let me carry the fear with you. You don’t have to do it alone. Not anymore.”
“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper into her hair, breathing in the coconut sweetness that’s become my addiction.
“You do,” she says fiercely, lifting her head to brush her lips on my jaw. “You deserve every good thing, Theodore Seaborn. And tomorrow, when you wake up after the operation, I’ll be right here waiting for you, ready to start our forever.”
The lump in my throat makes it hard to speak, but I manage. “Don’t ever leave.”
“Never,” she promises.
And I believe her with every fiber of my being.
49
IVY
MARCH 27
