She nods, words too far away.
His thumb finds the apex of her thighs, taking over in the same rhythm she’d settled into, and somehow, it feels even better.
Gods.
Pleasure blooms in her core. It spreads like heat under her skin, like something long dormant waking all at once. It ripples through her body like ecstasy at every nerve ending.
His hands, his cock, the way he lets her have this experience for herself—serving her every whim and need. All of it sets her on fire.
“If you want…” he grits out between thrusts, “you can touch your breasts. Your nipples. Experiment with yourself. Find your pleasure,” he encourages, guiding her deeper into her own bliss.
This is exactly who he is: a man dedicated to everyone else before himself. A man devoted to his word. Gods, Seren lovesthat about him. But the irony of it doesn’t go unnoticed:it’s the only thing that will keep them apart.
The thought dissolves into nothing, swallowed by the rapture of his touch.
His hips rock, responding to her body, finding the perfect rhythm that drags pretty moans from her lips. She nods, breath rushing out in gasps.
Her hands find her breasts. Awkwardly, she touches herself the same way he showed her how to—massaging, rolling her nipples between her fingers.
“Fuck,” Teddy growls. “The sight of you spread before me like this is what I’ll see in my last moments, Seren.”
His words are a benediction. A poem to the parts of her that still feel unlovable. Her toes curl at the way he worships. Her eyes roll back at the way he sees her so completely. Her moans drop an octave at the way he reads her every move like a note in a symphony. And despite herself—despite knowing how this ends between them—she says the words that are both her rise and her ruin.
“I love you,” she breathes. The words slip out before she can stop them—but she doesn’t try to take them back.
Teddy drives his cock home, his thumb still working her clit.
“No matter what,” he grits out with conviction.
Her eyes flutter open, finding his. “No matter where,” she echoes.
Her fingers press into her breasts, pleasure climbing to a peak she can’t see.
“In every life after this one.” His voice is a pained promise.
His rhythm increases, and a primal growl tears from his throat.
Gods.
Her pleasure crests, like it’s reaching for something.
“Just not this one,” she whimpers.
A moan rips free, and she grinds her hips, driving into the balls of her feet, lifting her ass high for perfect access. Instinct. Primal, raw, desperate instinct takes over.
“Come for me, Seren. Take your pleasure,” Teddy encourages.
And the words push her to the brink of her pleasure. She teeters on the edge of rapture, and then he says the one thing that tips her over?—
“You deserve every pleasure, Seren. Take it from me.”
She does.
And bliss detonates.
It tears through her like light through darkness—too bright, too much, too real to contain.
Wild, whirling, heady bliss floods her. Blooming out from her core like an electrical charge with too much force. Her back bows off the bed in ecstasy, her nails pressing into the soft flesh of her breasts.
