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“Damn, girl, you’re even more beautiful like this.”
“Keep talking, and you’ll ruin the moment,” Jane teases.
We reach the edge of the bed, its frame creaking slightly under our combined weight. The sheets are cool against my heated skin, but her body is a furnace, searing me with every touch.
“Tex,” Jane whispers. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Nothing could drag me away.”
There’s a mirror on the wall opposite to her bed and it catches the light from the streetlamp outside, casting a pale glow across the room.
“Tex.” Jane’s voice trembles with need.
My name is a prayer, a plea, and I answer it by kissing down her body. Each curve, scar and imperfection is explored until the flat of tongue, reaches the delicate folds of her pussy.
“Jane,” I growl against her. “You taste like sin and redemption all at once.”
Her hands fist in the sheets as I explore her further, teasing Jane to the edge only to pull back. Again and again, I bring her to the brink, each time more intense than the last until she’s a quivering mess of want and desperation.
“Please,” Jane begs, the word falling from lips swollen with kisses. “I need you inside me, Tex.”
With one fluid move, I flip her over, her hands bracing against the mattress, her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
“Look at yourself, Jane,” I command. “Watch how much you need this, crave this.”
And then I’m inside her in one long, hard thrust that has Jane crying out my name. “Tex!” It echoes around us.
“Fuck, Jane,” I hiss, fingers digging into her hips as I set a punishing rhythm. Every push, every pull, is reflected back at me, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of us—the way we move together, primal, and unyielding.
“More,” Jane moans, the word barely recognizable.
Her body convulses around me, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
“Keep watching,” I order between labored breaths, my control slipping. “See how good we are together.”
I do. I see it all—the sweat glistening on our bodies, the fierce concentration on her face, the way she moves with such purpose. And when my climax tears through me, a growl escapes me, and we find our release together.
In the aftermath, we’re both panting, spent. The room feels smaller somehow, like the walls have inched closer during our lovemaking. Responsibility, tragedy—they all fade away against the simple truth that in this moment, she is mine and I am hers. And maybe, just maybe, that could be enough.
Drenched in sweat and satisfaction, I lie entangled in the sheets that bear the evidence of our passion. My chest rises and falls against her back. I’m spent, unable to do anything but feel.
“Jane,” I whisper.
“Mmm?” She hums a response.
“Sleep, darlin’,” I murmur.
I brush my lips against the curve of her shoulder as she falls asleep in my arms.
* * *
“Another round, Tex?” Her voice, coated with casual professionalism, pulls me back from my silent observation.
“Nah, I’m good for now.” My words are a low rumble, but they carry over the din of the bar.
She nods, and I watch—a spectator to the quiet strength that defines her. She keeps those pale green eyes away from trouble, and I can’t help but swell with a peculiar sense of pride. Jane’s got this survival thing down to an art, and I silently vow to keep being a part of that canvas.
As the night crawls on, my mind wanders, unbidden, back to her bedroom—the creak of bed frame, and the heat of her pressed against me. The memory alone is enough to quicken my pulse, the echo of her cries. I remember the taste of her on my tongue, the way she arched into me, desperate for more, and how the cool air did nothing to quell the fire we stoked within each other.
