Page 110 of Glitched Play

The blush spreads down her throat lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

“Witt—”

“Flawless.”

It comes out too blunt. I know that because her lips part and her expression flickers, like she’s deciding whether to laugh, hide, or argue with me. So, I make myself slow down. I look at her the way my brain wants to look at systems and patterns and beautiful impossible things—carefully.

Completely.

“You’re soft here,” I say, brushing my thumb lightly over her side, “and warm here, and your skin changes color when I kiss you. That isn’t a flaw. It’s information.”

Her laugh trembles. “Only you would call that information.”

“Accurate information,” I correct. Then I lean down and kiss her again, gentler this time, giving her room to believe me. “You’re beautiful, Maci.”

Her fingers loosen on my shoulders, but she doesn’t let go. “You say that like it’s a fact.”

I kiss under her sternum then look up at her. “It is.”

Finally, she lets out a breath.

Maci being in my bed and in this space that holds my routines, my collections, my quietest self, makes the air electric. Our bodies press together as foreplay unfolds in gentle exploration. My fingers map her skin and hers do the same to me. The texture of her, the way she responds, floods my senses with overwhelming connection rather than the usual overload.

For the first time, touch doesn’t fragment me—it anchors me. She’s not just anyone. She’s Maci, the woman who sees past my neurodivergent edges and makes me want to share them.

I suck on her breasts and she arches into me. My fingers work her center and she pants, “Feels so good.”

“It does,” I affirm and in a few moments she comes on my hand.

Pulling my fingers from her center, I rub them over her lips.

She giggles. “Okay, you win. I couldn’t last.”

I can’t help but laugh because she might as well be an O’Ryan with her competitiveness. The thought makes me pause. I’ve never truly thought of a woman in that way. I wipe the thought away, not wanting to be pulled from this extraordinary moment.

“Do you want this? Do you want me?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

The air is heavy, thick with the thought of being intimate in this way. Then I ask her, “Will you touch me first?”

Her eyes sparkle. “Yes.” She reaches between us and at first just holds my cock in her hand, swiping her thumb over my head. “It’s heavy and soft and… long.”

“It is. It wants you… I want you.”

She opens her mouth and closes it just as quick.

The time for talking is over and I cover her mouth with mine.

I need her like I need quiet.

I need her more than I need structure.

She takes my cock and rubs the head against her entrance. The more she does it the wetter she becomes. And when she hits my head against her clit, she lets out a satisfied purr.

I cover her hand with mine and remove the barrier between us. And I push inside her, inch by inch.

Maci’s neck arches. “Oh… ahhh.”