He speeds up, enough to push me closer without tipping me over immediately. He’s not unaffected—his face is open, needy, his own body arching up into the motion of his hand. Every time I move, he does too, and that finger goes deeper, faster, until I’m lost to it all.
“Come with me,” I grunt, breath coming fast. “Wanna feel you lose it, too, baby. Wanna feel you fall apart while you’ve got me in your hands.”
He whines, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His pace picks up, determined to get us there. “Noah,” he whispers. “I’m so close.”
His grip tightens, making me see stars. His finger grazes my prostate. “Always make me feel so good,” I groan hoarsely as his pace increases, eyes taking on a glazed look.
I keep talking because I can’t stop myself—I praise him, tell him how gorgeous he is, how proud I am of him, and how I love seeing him taking what he wants. His noises get louder, more desperate, mixing with mine until I can’t tell which of us is falling faster.
When it finally hits, it’s blinding.
My body jerks, a deep, drawn-out groan spilling from my lips. Gabe watches me come all over him, mouth dropped open. He follows me over the edge with a choked cry right against my lips, milking every drop until we’re both shaking. His finger slips from my ass, and he caresses my hip.
I kiss him while our bodies come down from the high, my hands in his hair, soft lips mixed with gentle sighs. All the tension leaves him, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re soft and open. I don’t know how long we watch each other for, but we both have little smiles, mirroring each other.
When I eventually look down and see what a mess I’ve made of him, I can’t stop the devilish smile on my face. “Fuck, you look good covered in us.”
He lets out a tired laugh, the blush that had faded making a swift return. “That mouth of yours,” he says, shaking his head.
I suck on my lip, staring at his cum-streaked skin. It’s too tempting. “This mouth has many great uses,” I tell him.
He tilts his head, brow raised, but before he can ask what I mean, I climb off him and drop between his legs. His eyes widen. I run my hands up his thighs, spreading his legs a little more. “Time to clean you up,” I say with a wink as I lean in and lick a wet stripe up his softening cock. His hips make little aborted thrusts as I continue cleaning him off with my tongue.
“Noah,” he whimpers.
When I’m done, I look up at him, and his eyes are a mix of lust and affection. I lean up, grab his face, and kiss him. He moans into my mouth, tasting the combination of us. When I pull back, it’s only a hair’s breadth. “Taste good together, don’t we, baby?”
He exhales shakily against my lips. “Perfect together.”
Yeah, we are.
47
GABE
The building looks so ordinary. I don’t know what I expected, something more sinister, maybe. Instead, I’m greeted by pale stone, a yellow door, brass numbers, and a little pot of flowers on the step. I stand there for a long time just staring at the flowers. They’re pink, so pretty and bright, unlike all the reasons I’m here.
I could leave.
My foot lifts, and my stomach twists hard enough to make me stop. I think back to last night, dancing with Noah. Finding that spark of happiness within myself to feel joy even through all this. I want that life. I wantmylife. I need to be here.
Before I can think twice, I press the bell. There’s a soft chime, and then the door clicks open. Inside smells faintly herbal. The carpet is pale, the walls are lined with prints of Willowrun. It’s so quiet that I realize how loud my breathing is.
The receptionist smiles softly at me, and I have the urge to turn and bolt.
“Hi, do you have an appointment?” she asks.
“Um, yes. Gabe Shaw.”
“Perfect, Gabe. Take a seat. Dr. Keane will be with you shortly.”
There’s a waiting alcove with two chairs and a table stacked with magazines. I sit and try to calm down. I press my palms into my thighs, and I can feel the damp sweat on them even through the fabric. It feels like there’s a rubber band around my chest.
I stare at the front door. At the handle. I picture myself leaving, calling Noah, telling him it was too much. I imagine standing up so clearly that my thighs tense with the start of it. I squeeze my eyes closed and remind myself again that I need to be here. I want to be here.
A door opens further down the hall, and I hear muffled voices. A young woman walks past me, giving me an understanding smile that only makes me feel sick, and then she’s gone.
Another woman appears in the office doorway, mid fifties maybe, with greying hair pulled back in a neat bun. Her face is calm—not smiling too wide, she looks friendly enough, but my heart pounds at the sight of her.
