“Too loud?” Skyla tilts her head, not understanding.
“Come on,” I say, jerking my head toward the living room. “We don’t want to miss it.”
Skyla’s hand slips into mine without hesitation, fingers soft and warm. I lead her through the living room, the evening light spilling gold across the floorboards, our shadows stretching long and close.
I snatch the old quilt off the recliner, then I slide open the back door. The world outside is bathed in that last wash of sunlight—orange melting into pink, the edges of the sky catching fire. The backyard’s small, fenced in, but beautiful in that lived-in kind of way. A thick row of sunflowers crowds the back fence, faces turned toward the fading light. Two old oak trees anchor the middle, strong and sprawling, with a hammock strung between them like something out of a postcard.
Tiny wildflowers scatter along the edge of the porch, growing through cracks and curling between the steps. Nobody planted them. They just grow.
Skyla steps out barefoot onto the porch, still holding myhand. The light hits her exactly right—soft blue fabric glowing, eyes wide, lips parted in quiet awe.
I watch her breathe it in, her scent mixing with the warm summer air—sweet peony and something that’s solely her.
Yeah. This was worth the wait.
She leans forward a little, eyes catching on something beyond the fence. “You have trees back there,” she says, pointing toward the dark shapes at the edge of the property.
“Yeah,” I say, glancing that way too. “There’s a field past the fence. No houses, no roads, open space.”
Her brows lift. “So…no neighbors?”
“Not out back,” I tell her, smiling. “That’s the perk of the cul-de-sac. You get the illusion of privacy without being completely cut off.”
She hums softly, still looking out at the trees like she’s trying to imagine what it feels like to walk into that wide, quiet field. The sky behind them is streaked with orange and pink, the kind of sunset that makes you forget the rest of the world exists.
The hammock sways when I sit, ropes creaking gently as it adjusts to my weight. I pat the spot in front of me. “Careful. It tips easy.”
Skyla hesitates for only a second before climbing in, her hand still in mine. The fabric shifts beneath us, rocking until she finds her balance—then she settles back against my chest like she belongs there. The nightgown whispers against my jeans, cool and soft, her warmth sinking into me through the thin fabric.
“Snuggle in, omega.” I drape the blanket over her. She melts against my chest, letting out a soft hum.
The last rays of sunset catch the edge of her hair,turning it to liquid gold. The light softens everything—the trees, the air, her face tilted up toward mine.
Skyla shifts in the hammock, resting her chin lightly on my chest. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what?” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.
“For showing me this.” Her eyes lift, catching the fading light. “It’s beautiful.”
I swallow hard.She’s beautiful.And sitting here with her like this—with the smell of warm earth and peonies, the hum of the cicadas, and the gentle sway beneath us—I feel something settle in me I didn’t realize was missing.
“I’m glad you like it,” I manage, my hand coming up to tuck a long strand of hair behind her ear.
She smiles, small and real. The kind that punches right through my ribs.
And something in me…clicks in place. I slide my arm around her waist and pull her a little closer, until her body fits perfectly against mine. She doesn’t resist—if anything, she leans in.
The world goes quiet, except for the soft sound of the hammock ropes and the faint rhythm of her breath against my throat.
I tilt her chin up and kiss her.
It starts soft—gentle—but the moment her lips part under mine, my control slips. My hand comes up, cradling the back of her neck as I deepen the kiss. Every nerve in my body lights up, the kind of heat that burns without hurting.
Skyla makes a small sound against my mouth, something caught between surprise and need, and I feel it like a spark down my spine. I don’t even think—I follow my instinct, pressing closer, devouring the small, gasping breaths she gives me between kisses.
My cock springs to life, rock hard in my pants as her fingers clutch my shirt, pulling me down like she’s drowning and I’m the air she needs. The hammock rocks beneath us, the whole world narrowed down to her taste and her warmth and the way her body fits perfectly against mine.
For a second, I swear I can feel her heartbeat against my ribs. Steady, strong, and completely in sync with mine.
