She moans my name like a plea and a prayer, and I know—I know—that when I finally slide inside her, I won’t be able to pretend this is just need.
It’s not.
It’s her.
It’s us.
It’s everything I thought I couldn’t have—begging me to take it anyway.
I’ve got two fingers inside her and she’s dripping for me, rolling her hips with this quiet, breathless urgency that feels like desperation and devotion wrapped into one.My thumb slides lower, finding her clit, rubbing slow at first—just enough to make her gasp—then firmer, tighter, until her whole body jerks.Her cry tears out of her, sharp and unguarded, hips bucking hard against my hand.
I lean in and take her nipple into my mouth, sucking deep, tongue flicking until she’s shaking.I bite lightly, then soothe it with my tongue, pulling a scream from her that goes straight through me.
“Fuck—Monty?—”
Her body clenches hard around my fingers, soaking me, begging without words.I keep rubbing her clit, relentless now, mouth working her breast.
“More,” she whispers, voice cracked open.“Monty, please fill me.”
And I’m about to give her everything.I’m ready to fuck her right here on this couch, slow and deep, but the universe has other plans.
The door swings open behind us.
“Hope you two like mango or I’m drinking both—Benji’s off on Sundays, so it’s me or starvation.”
Callaway’s voice.
Vesper freezes.
So do I.
Her breath catches in her throat as she goes completely still on my lap, my fingers still inside her, my cock still painfully hard, every nerve in my body lit up like fire under my skin.
I turn my head slowly, as if moving too fast might shatter something sacred.
Callaway stands in the doorway, holding three tall smoothies—condensation slipping down the sides of the cups, forgotten.His sweatpants hang low, barely clinging to his hips like a suggestion, his curls damp from the sink or maybe the sweat at the back of his neck.He places the drink carrier on the counter.
That fucking smile—golden, warm, the kind that used to undo me with just a glance—vanishes in slow motion.
He stops mid-step.
His eyes drop.
To Vesper, flushed and panting in my lap.To where my fingers are buried in her.And fuck me—the air shifts.Goes thick.Electric.Like something’s about to break and we’re all asking for it.
He blinks once.His throat moves around whatever he’s about to say, but it doesn’t make it out.
“Umm.Okay, so we’re busy doing that,” he finally says, trying to sound casual.Trying not to look like he’s about to come apart.Then he glares at me.“Though we did have, you know, a lot to talk about before ...all this.”
Vesper’s face flushes deeper, but she doesn’t move.Doesn’t run.She just sighs and tilts her head against my shoulder.
“I ...”She swallows.“We kissed.And then, I needed him.This.”
Callaway’s jaw flexes.He looks between us again—my hand between her legs, her gasping breaths, my cock so hard I could come just from watching him take us in.
“Should I leave?”he asks lightly.“So he can finish?”
Then his tone dips.Darker.Lower.
