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Theo’s definitely getting an early bedtime tonight.

Chapter twenty-five

Simon

Blaire is in my house. In my bed. As mine. As a family. Under my roof with our son asleep down the hall and her clothes hanging in my closet. I’m so giddy just with that knowledge that I stand in the doorway, watching her as she plugs her phone in on what is now her side of the bed.

I must make a sound, because she looks up.

“Is he—”

“Out.” I close the door and lock it. “He’s not getting up.”

She huffs a little laugh that isn’t steady. “You don’t know that.”

“I know I’ve waited four years to walk into this room and have you in it.” I cross to her like she’s little more than my prey, stoping between her legs, towering over her where she sits on the edge of our bed. “He better stay asleep.”

She tips her face up when I reach her. I cup her jaw and bend to press my lips to her. She makes that sound against my mouth and my whole body goes tight.

“Fuck Blaire.”

I waste no time in tugging her shirt over her head, leaving her in plain cotton panties and nothing else.

“You’re staring.” She blushes, moving to cover her breasts with her arms.

“Yeah.” I drop to my knees between her thighs. “Get used to it.”

I get her underwear off and put my mouth on her like I’ve been starving. She gasps, fingers threading into my hair, and I groan into her, bullying my tongue into her cunt. I still remember what she likes. As if I could ever forget how to please the woman who owns me. I hold her thighs open and eat her like I can somehow make up for every night I couldn’t.

“Simon—oh my God—”

“Shhh,” I mutter against her before diving back in with everything I’ve got. Adding two fingers and curling them until I find the spongy little spot that that’s ingrained in my muscle memory.

She comes on my tongue with her wrist in her teeth, shaking, and I don’t stop until she’s shoving at my head and whispering, “please, please, I can’t—“

I stand and strip out of my clothes so fast that I’m sure I’ve ripped through them. I can’t focus on much right now besides the sight of Blaire naked and on *our* bed.

I feel her go still.

I follow her line of sight down to my hips.

Her name sits low on my pubic bone, clean where I shaved last night in hope of this exact moment.

BLAIRE

Right there above my cock, which is flushed and leaking and so hard it hurts.

“I’m surprised you didn’t cover it up,” she says, soft awe, and then her fingers are there, tracing the letters.

I shiver so hard my knees almost go.

“Of course I didn’t.” My voice comes out wrecked. “I meant what I said when I got it. This cock belongs to you, Blaire.”

Her fingers pause. “I’m supposed to believe you didn’t fuck any of the women you dated over the years?”

I catch her hand but keep it pressed to her own name, and make her look at me.

“I used a condom for everything,” I say. “Even a handjob. I never let anyone touch me bare. Not once. I promised you that it was yours. I got your name put on me so I couldn’t pretend otherwise. I wasn’t going to let some hookup put their hands on it like it belonged to them.”