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I kneel on the bed between her knees and look down at her. “Did you ever think of me while fucking yourself on this toy?”

“Simon—” She chokes on my name, her face managing to get even redder.

“Answer.” I hook my fingers in the waistband of her shorts. Give her a beat. She lifts her hips for me.

Shorts and underwear come off together. I drop them on the floor and have to breathe through my teeth because she’s already wet. Not just a little bit either. “Jesus, Blaire.”

“Don’t—” She covers her face with both hands. “Do not narrate.”

“You sent me three paragraphs about using my mouth while I was at work. I can narrate if I want.”

I run the toy along the inside of her thigh first. Slow. She twitches. Tries to close her knees. I put a hand on her knee and keep it there. “Stay.”

I notch the head of it against her, just enough pressure to make her hips jump, and don’t give her more.

“Did you think of me?” I drag it through the wetness, coating it, teasing her clit until her breath stutters. “Does this neon piece of silicone compare to the feeling of my cock?”

“Simon.” She whimpers, hips twitching like she’s trying to pretend this isn’t turning her on.

I can feel a wet spot growing in my jeans, my cock leaking so much I’m sure she’d notice if she pried her eyes away from the ceiling.

I press just the head in. Barely. Her mouth opens on a sound she tries to swallow. I hold it there, watching her take nothing and still look wrecked by it.

“Look at me.”

She drops her hands like it costs her something. Eyes glassy. Cheeks wrecked. The most beautiful thing in this half-empty apartment.

“Yes,” she whispers, furious about it. “Yes, I thought about you. Happy?”

“Getting there.”

I ease it in slowly. Watching every inch disappear into her. Watching her thighs tense, a broken sound catching in her throat that I have been starving for. She’s tight, even just through a toy, I can tell how tight she is. Her hands fist in the blanket. I work it in until it’s seated and then I just hold it there, thumb finding her clit, and her whole body arches.

“Si, I need—“

“I know.” I lean over her, one hand braced by her head, the other working the toy in a slow, filthy rhythm. “I’ve got you. I know what you need.”

She grabs my shirt like she needs it to stay on the planet. I can feel her shaking. Can feel how close she already is, because she’s been wound up all day same as me, and I’m not even inside her.

“That’s it.” I kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the place under her ear that always used to undo her. “You’ve been so patient, sweet girl. So strong. You deserve this. You deserve to feel good.”

My free hand goes to the hem of the hoodie she’s wearing.

Her hands snap down and catch my wrists. “Simon—”

I freeze. Thumb still hooked under the fabric, pulling the toy gently away from her body.

“I’m not trying to ruin this,” she whispers. “I just… don’t look the same as the last you saw me. I have stretch marks. My stomach isn’t flat. My hips are wider. My breasts aren’t—” She cuts herself off, laughs once, miserable. “You used to be able to pick me up like I weighed nothing. I don’t look like I did at twenty-two. And you don’t have to pretend I do.”

“Listen to me.” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t have to. “You brought my son into this world with this body. You stretched for him. You bled for him. You fed him. You walked around exhausted and sore and still showed up every day while I was out being a fucking idiot. There is nothing on you I don’t want. Not a mark. Not a soft place. Not a thing that changed.”

She shakes her head a little, like she wants to believe it and can’t let herself.

“I am not pretending,” I say. “I have been hard for you since I was eighteen. I was hard for you when you were pregnant and I only got to see you in passing. I was hard for you when I wasn’t allowed to have you. I am so attracted to you right now I can barely think in complete sentences, and it has nothing to do with what you looked like before him and everything to do with the fact that you are you. This body made Theo. This body is the one I want in my bed. In my house. Under me. On me. However you'll let me have it.”

I take one of her hands off my wrist.

I don’t ask. I just guide it down, over my stomach, and press her palm to the front of my jeans.