Izzy leans back against the door, studying me.
“Full circle,” she says.
“Something like that.”
She crosses the room slowly and sits on the edge of the same divan where everything started.
“You know,” she says lightly, “for a man who insisted I should run from him that night, you sure seem comfortable repeating history.”
I step closer. “That night,” I tell her quietly, “I thought I was protecting you.”
“And now?”
“Now I know better.”
Her smile softens.
“Good answer.”
She reaches for me, pulling me down into a slow kiss.
The past ten years settle around us in that moment.
The wars.
The children.
The life we built from something that should have been impossible.
Her fingers slide into my hair.
Mine settle at her waist.
The same rhythm returns between us like it never left.
Our kiss deepens, tongues tangling as I taste the familiarity of her mouth, the faint hint of the wine she sipped earlier.
Izzy's hands roam down my chest, unbuttoning my shirt with deliberate slowness, her nails grazing my skin.
I pull back just enough to watch her eyes darken with that hunger I know so well.
She steps away, her fingers trailing to the hem of her dress. With a teasing glance, she lifts it over her head, letting it pool at her feet. No bra, no panties—just her, bare and confident, her curves softened by time and motherhood but no less intoxicating.
Her breasts sway slightly as she moves back to the divan, sitting on the edge and spreading her legs wide, inviting me.
I drop to my knees before her, hands sliding up her thighs, parting them further. Her pussy is already glistening, pink and swollen, begging for my attention. I lean in, inhaling her scent—musky, aroused, all Izzy.
My tongue flicks out, tracing her outer lips before delving between them, lapping at her folds. She gasps, fingers threading into my hair, pulling me closer.
I eat her out like it's the first time, sucking on her clit, circling it with firm pressure while two fingers push inside her slick heat. She's wet, so fucking wet, her walls clenching around me as I curl my fingers to hit that spot that makes her buck.
"Nico," she moans, hips grinding against my face.
I don't let up, tongue thrusting in alongside my fingers, tasting her juices as they coat my chin.
Her thighs tremble, and she comes hard, crying out, her pussy pulsing as she floods my mouth.
I rise, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my cock straining against my pants. Izzy's eyes lock on the bulge, and she reaches for my belt, undoing it with eager hands.
