My arms tremble with the effort of holding myself up, overwhelmed by the intensity of feeling him inside me, behind me, surrounding me completely. Troy seems to sense my struggle and wraps an arm around my waist, holding me firmly against his chest as he sits back on his heels. The new position drives him impossibly deeper, and I cry out, my head falling back against his shoulder.
“I've got you,” he murmurs, his lips grazing my ear. “Let go for me one more time.”
His hand slides between my legs, finding my sensitive center with practiced ease. The combination of his fingers and his relentless thrusts sends me spiraling toward a third release, my body clenching around him.
“That's it,” he groans, his rhythm faltering as my inner walls pulse around him. “God, Delilah?—”
His breathing becomes ragged, his movements more urgent. I feel the moment he loses control, his body tensing behind me as he buries himself deep. He groans my name against my neck, his arms tightening around me as he shudders through his release.
We stay like that for several heartbeats, connected and trembling, before he gently lowers us to the mattress. He's careful not to crush me, keeping one arm around my waist as we lie on our sides, his chest pressed to my back.
The room is quiet except for our gradually slowing breaths. Troy presses a soft kiss to my shoulder, then another to the nape of my neck.
“You okay?” he whispers, his thumb tracing small circles on my hip.
I nod, not quite trusting my voice yet. My body feels like mush, satisfied, almost weightless, like I've been taken apart and put back together by those capable hands.
After a while, his breathing deepens, and I feel him relax against me. His arm stays draped over my waist, heavy and warm, his face nestled against my hair. I should feel trapped. Confined. Instead, I feel... safe. Protected. Like nothing bad could possibly reach me here in the circle of his arms.
The thought sends a jolt of panic through me.
That's dangerous. That's the kind of thinking that gets you hurt.
I lie still, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against my back. My eyes trace the shadows on his wall, the outline of his desk in the moonlight. This room, his space—it feels too comfortable. Too easy to imagine staying.
Minutes tick by, and with each one, the pressure in my chest builds. This isn't me. I don't do this—the cuddling, theafter. I slip away before sunrise. I keep my distance. I protect myself.
But Troy's arms feel so right around me, his warmth like a blanket I never knew I needed.
And that's exactly why I have to go.
I carefully extricate myself from his embrace, moving slowly to avoid waking him. He stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent before his eyes flutter open.
“Where you going?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.
“I need to get home,” I say, voice suddenly urgent. “I should shower and change before tomorrow.”
He props himself up on one elbow, hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep. “You can shower here. I have clean towels.”
I shake my head, already reaching for my underwear on the floor. “Thanks, but I'd rather use my own stuff. Plus, my bike's fixed now, so I can just ride back.”
Troy sits up fully, the sheet pooling around his waist. “Delilah, it's past midnight. You're not biking across town in the dark.”
“I have lights,” I counter, pulling my shirt over my head. “And I know the route.”
“That's not the point.” His voice is gentle but firm. “It's not safe.”
I pause, jeans halfway up my thighs. Part of me wants to argue—to insist that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, that I've been doing it for years. That needing someone is a luxury I can't afford.
But the concern in his eyes isn't patronizing. It's genuine. And behind my reflexive need to push away, I feel something crack—a hairline fracture in the wall I've built around myself.
A protective voice echoes in my head, one that’s kept me safe for years."Never depend on anyone. In the end, it's just you."A mantra I've lived by for so long that it's become part of my DNA. Every time someone got too close, every time someone offered help, I heard her voice reminding me of the consequences of needing people.
But looking at Troy now I wonder if that voice is always helping me. If maybe, just maybe, letting someone care doesn't always end in disappointment.
“Fine,” I relent, letting out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. “I'll stay until morning.”
Relief washes over his face. “Thank you.”
