He adjusts slightly, and the next thrust nails the angle. I lose focus—blinded by how good it feels. I’m right on the edge. Can’t think. Can’t breathe.
“No one else,” he pants, each word punched out with a thrust. “No one else gets you like this. Just me. Tell me I’m the only one.”
“You are,” I choke out, gripping him tight. “It’s always been you. Always will be.”
His rhythm falters—then he’s fucking me harder. One hand wraps around my cock, stroking in sync. I’m seconds from coming, clinging to the feeling, trying to make it last.
“Come for me,” Thomas says, voice rough. “Wanna feel you on my cock. Wanna watch you fall apart.”
He swipes his thumb over the head of my cock, slick with precum—and that’s all it takes. I break, coming hard, my body clenching around him, vision going white as I cry out his name.
“Thomas—”
“Fuck, Carter—” Thomas groans. He thrusts once more, deep, and then he’s coming too, face twisted with pleasure, my name spilling from his lips like a prayer.
After a few moments, he pulls me in, arms wrapped tight, face buried in my neck. I can still feel him pulsing inside me, aftershocks leaving us both shaking.
“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing me through it. “So much.”
I tilt my head just enough to see him—tired, soft, completely wrecked—and the tenderness that hits me steals my breath.
“I love you too,” I whisper.
CHAPTER 4. Thomas
The afterglow hits different when you're half-naked in the backseat of a Honda Civic during a snowstorm.
Carter’s still curled against me, our breathing finally slowing, my arms wrapped tight around him like if I let go, I’ll blink and realize it was all a dream.
Sixteen years of wanting, and now that I’ve had him—touched him, kissed him, held him like I’ve imagined a thousand times—we’re stranded in a dead car with the temperature dropping by the second.
Not exactly the romantic setting I pictured for our first time. But somehow, it still feels perfect.
Messy and freezing and a little unhinged—but perfect.
“We should probably, um…” Carter mumbles, voice muffled against my neck.
“Clean up?” I finish, running my hand gently down his back. His skin’s cooling fast now that we’ve stopped moving, and goosebumps are blooming under my fingers.
“Yeah,” he says, laughing softly—awkward, not quite meeting my eyes. “That.”
I smile at the sudden shyness that’s taken over him.
This is the same guy who was riding me like he had something to prove five minutes ago. Now he can’t even look at me, shifting slightly—the embarrassment’s starting to catch up with him.
“I think I have wet wipes in the glove compartment,” he mumbles.
“Is that where you keep all your emergency supplies?” I ask, grinning. “Condoms, lube, wet wipes?”
“Shut up,” he mutters, zero heat behind it. “I’m a responsible adult who likes to be prepared.”
I can’t see the blush in the dark, but I can hear it in his voice. And God, it’s adorable.
I’ve seen Carter in every possible state over the years—drunk, exhausted, furious, wrecked—but post-sex and sheepish is a brand-new favorite.
“Very Boy Scout of you,” I say with a chuckle.
He rolls his eyes and carefully peels himself off my lap, wincing a little as he moves. The sight knocks the smile off my face.
