Page 39 of Basil

I positioned myself between her legs, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. I pushed in, inch by agonizing inch, until I was buried to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” My hips started to move, slow at first, then faster, harder. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, her nails digging into my back as I pounded into her.

Her bed creaked with every thrust, the sound mixing with our moans and the slap of skin against skin. Summer’s pussy clenched around me, her orgasm building as I hit that spot inside her over and over.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her body trembling as she came, her pussy tightening around me like a fucking vice.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I fucked her through her orgasm, my own release building until I slammed into her one last time, my cock pulsing as I came deep inside her.

I collapsed on top of her, both of us breathing hard, sweat glistening on our skin.

“Fuck,” I muttered, brushing her hair out of her face. “I missed this.”

She smiled, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. “Welcome home, Basil.”

19

SHOW, DON’T TELL

SUMMER

Six months after we had sex, we moved in together.

I didn’t want to leave Fremont, but my apartment was too small—it had only one bedroom—and Basil needed a home office. I also didn’t want to live in a luxury high-rise because that wasn’t who I was.

So, we compromised.

We found a charming craftsman-style bungalow nestled on a quiet, tree-lined street in Fremont, just a few blocks from Sage & Sunflower. It had everything we needed—a spacious home office for Basil, a space for me to make candles and other crafts, and a nice little backyard where I was determined to start an herb garden, which I wasveryexcited about.

The front porch had a swing, perfect for lazy Sunday mornings with coffee. Inside, the house had exposed beams, a fireplace, and just enough quirks to make it feel homey. It wasn’t flashy or pretentious—it wasusor rather who we’d become, growingtogether.

We were still close enough to Meadow, Bodhi, Ocean, and Rain for drop-in visits, last-minute dinners, and impromptu gatherings on our porch. Close enough that my life didn’t feel uprooted—just expanded.

And when Basil and I sat on that porch swing, wrapped in each other, swaying, I knew—we hadn’tcompromisedat all, instead we had built a life we were happy about.

If I had any doubts about Basil’s commitment to not go back to toxicity, I got itveryclearly during a work dinner with his leadership team and a potential investor.

I still hesitated when I had to do anything pertaining to his work. I knew that his colleagues didn’t hate me—it was something Drew had imagined. Felix had assured me that most people didn’t know who I was, which was comforting, but I was still anxious. In the past, dinners like this one included Drew, and she managed to always make me feel inadequate. But I knew this was part of living in Basil’s life, so I was going towoman upand get it done.

I had to remind myself that things were different now. Basil wasn’t dragging me into his world expectingmeto adjust, instead, he was inviting me as an equal, as his significant other.

The first half of the dinner was fine. It was a sit-down affair and I had Basil on one side and Felix on the other. The potential investor who I didn’t like on sight—he had terriblejuju—sat on the other side of Basil, which was a relief because I didn’t want to deal with him.

We were having coffee after dinner when the asshole investor decided to go corporate onmyhippie ass. We were talking about how people at the table had taken different paths in their career to reach where they were.

“So, Summer, what do you do? Are you in software too?” Randy Thatcher, a big-time VC firm CEO, asked me, leaning so he could look at me past Basil.

“I own a holistic wellness store in Fremont,” I told him.

“What do you sell there?” he asked.

I kept my smile polite. “The store specializes in oils, incense, and aromatherapy products, as well as handmade scarves and other goods crafted by local artists.”

His smirk was slow, condescending. “How charming.”

Here we go.

“Basil, you must love that,” Randy continued. “Nice to have someone who doesn’t bring work stress home. My wife runs a hedge fund, and I wish she’d just be a housewife so I could keep her barefoot and pregnant and let the man make the money. You know what I mean?”

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