“I’ve created a monster.”
“Oh, do you need a minute?” I tease.
“Stop playing and get on this dick.”
I lower myself down on him slowly, because while I enjoy this position, it always takes me a minute to adjust to his girth from this angle. He’s enjoying this. Watching my face the whole way, and the stretch of it and the fullness of it and the plain relief of having each other again.
He goes still once I’m all the way seated. I lean forward, my forehead against his, the two of us breathing hard into the small space between our mouths.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Help me move,” I tell him. “Please.”
And he does, guiding me carefully. Pulling my hips forward, then back. Reminding me of everything I love about this position. My breasts jiggle as I rise and fall on his dick, and he groans at the sight like I’m the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen.
I’ve already come twice, and I’ve learned that it may take me a little longer for me to make the climb this time. That’s fine. The part he doesn’t get is that I love riding Caleb because he loves it so much. I think it’s because he loves me being in control. And watching me. This boy loves watching me.
Yeah, he’s going to come fast. I can see it all over his face. His adorable face.
“Stay with me,” he gets out, ragged, and then he laughs, catching himself. “You already are. You're right here. I keep forgetting I don't have to ask you anymore.”
“I'm here,” I tell him, and then I bend down and breathe it into his mouth. “Now, are you going to come for me or what?”
That’s what ends him. Even though I’m on top, he’s the driver now, grabbing my hips and pushing them down as he thrusts in me deep. We fuck like this for a while until he whispers my name like a prayer, and I feel him let go.
The look on his face coming undone under me and inside me tips me a third time, unplanned and unmanaged, the two of us wrecked together the way it should be.
Afterwards, he does not let go of me. He pulls me half up onto his chest and folds both arms around my back, and he does not reach for anything to say, because he worked out a long time ago that I land softer in quiet than in conversation.
I press my cheek over his chest and listen to his heart hammer itself back down to something human instead of his usual superhuman.
I lie there and let myself be in the moment. I love Caleb. I love him. And I marvel at how we got here.
“I can hear you thinking,” he says into my hair, sleepy and undone and happy. “What about?”
The old me had a small, careful, sometimes snarky answer ready for a question like that. I’m not her anymore.
“That we made it,” I tell him. “You’re still a hockey god, I’m still on staff, and nobody is coming up the stairs.”
His arm tightens. “Nobody's coming up the stairs,” he agrees. “It’s just us…forever.”
“Forever,” I say. I’ve gone my whole life unable to believe in anything I couldn’t verify first, but I believe in this. I finally have the proof. I have him.
“I love you, Jasmine,” he whispers in my hair.
“I love you more,” I say.
“That’s fucking impossible, baby. I promise you.”
And in the safest space on earth, in the arms of the one person who gets me, I close my eyes and fall asleep for the first time in my life without once checking the exits.
Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Jasmine
Eight months later, I live in a city I'd never set foot in, in an apartment with a man who unplugs the refrigerator every night before bed and swears, lying, that he can't sleep through the hum either. I let him have the lie. I've learned that's a thing you do for people you love. You let them be quietly good to you, and you don't turn it into a discussion.
