Her back arched off the bed as she shattered, her inner walls clamping down on me in waves that triggered my own release.I buried myself deep, groaning her name as I emptied inside her, pleasure radiating through every inch of my body.
For a long moment, we stayed connected, breathing hard, our sweat-slick bodies pressed together.I braced myself on my forearms to keep from crushing her, my forehead resting against hers.Her fingers traced patterns on my back, gentle now where they had been desperate moments before.
I’d never felt anything like it, and I knew she was my one and only.
* * *
The range sat behind the shop, a rough strip of cleared ground pressed up against a dirt berm.Targets leaned crooked against wooden frames, scarred and taped over from years of use.This place existed for blowing off steam, not ceremony.Lately, it doubled as a reminder helpless didn’t have to be permanent.
I’d spent plenty of time out here.Shooting alone.Running drills with brothers who needed rust shaken off.Breaking in Prospects who still flinched at loud noises.
Never brought a woman.
Jade stood a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself against the morning chill.Frost clung to the grass, glittering in early light.She wore jeans Casey and Maui had picked up for her last night, a long-sleeved shirt, and my hoodie.The sleeves swallowed her hands.Though the hood hung down her back, I could tell she wanted to pull the fabric over her head and disappear.
“You’re sure about this?”she asked, voice quiet but steady -- not afraid so much as measuring the situation.
I nudged the folding table with my boot where the pistol waited.“Last night you told me you were tired of being scared.”My eyes met hers.“Learning this fixes part of your problem.You never have to use a gun.The knowledge alone will change everything.”
Her gaze slid to the gun and lingered.Nine mil.Light frame.Easy recoil.Something forgiving.
“I hate guns.”
I gave a single nod.“Makes sense.You haven’t been around men who respect what a gun is for.Roth and his people would’ve used one to scare you into compliance.That’s how they operate -- by preying on fear.A gun itself isn’t the problem.It’s only as dangerous as the hands using it.”
The corner of her mouth twitched upward.“You’re still comparing yourself to a well-trained dog?”
“When something works, I stick with the approach.”
She exhaled a cloud into the cold morning air.After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.“Okay.Show me how.”
I picked up the pistol and cleared it, slowly and deliberately.Slide locked back.Magazine out.Chamber empty.I checked again anyway.Habits kept people alive.
“Rule one,” I said, turning it so she could see.“Treat every gun like it’s loaded until you personally verify otherwise.Even then, don’t point it at anything you aren’t willing to destroy.”
Her brows knit.“Destroy.”
“Not hurt,” I confirmed.“Movies lie.This isn’t about warnings.”
She swallowed but didn’t look away.I showed her the grip.Where her hands should be placed.How her thumbs rested.Feet shoulder-width apart, weight slightly forward, knees soft.I adjusted her elbows, rolled her wrists a fraction.
Every time I touched her, a shiver ran through her.Not panic.Awareness.“You good?”My hands stayed light, steady.
She nodded.“You’re just… close.”
“We can stop anytime.”
“I don’t want to stop.”Her jaw set.“I want to learn.”
“Then you will.”I stepped behind her, close enough to guide without crowding.Chest brushed her back.My hands settled over hers.“Sight picture,” I said, nodding toward the silhouette downrange.“Front sight centered.Equal light on both sides.Breathe in, let half out, then squeeze slow.No jerking.No rushing.”
Her breath came shallow.She followed anyway.
“Finger stays indexed until you’re ready.”I nudged her knuckle into position.“There.Good girl.”
Her inhale hitched.“You can’t say ‘good girl’ while I’m holding a gun.”
“Maybe you shoot me after.”
