Page 69 of Letting Go

Chapter 25

I head to the guest room, my room now. I’m just reaching for the light switch when I feel it, warmth. A presence at my back, steady and charged.

The door locks shut softly behind me. A breath at my neck and his voice, low and velvet smooth, “Strip.”

One word. A command, not from arrogance, but from trust. Intimacy. All the tension we’d banked through a long PG-13-day spills into the space between us like electricity finally given permission to move.

I don’t turn around.

Instead, I let the silence do the heavy lifting as I slip out of my clothes, one layer at a time. My breath hitches, heart thudding against my ribs like it’s trying to match the tension behind me.

He stays close, barely touching, just present. A warm wall of breath and bare skin. His chest grazes my back, his sweatpants brushing the curve of my thighs, soft but anchoring.

By the time the last piece falls to the floor, his hands are already there, he slides my hair over my left shoulder, his lips curving around the right, one of his hands reaches up to grab my breast while the other ventures down.

Caden’s fingers part my lips, his middle finger grazing my wetness. His hand covers the gasp I let out as his other one suddenly pinches my clit. Just a little bit of pain makes the pleasure feel twice as good.

“Shh.” He whispers against my neck. His entire hand obscenely palms my pussy as he lifts me up, the pressure feeling incredible. Sitting down on the bottom of the bed, he spreads his legs, mine trapped on the outside of his, as his hand returns to its erotic dance. He plunges three fingers inside me while his thumb presses on my bundle of nerves and his pinkie rubs at my asshole. It feels unbearable.

Moans never make it past my lips as I detonate, biting on the back of my hand, his right hand pinches my nipple, while his left one is relentless. He doesn’t stop until I am boneless in his lap.

After catching my breath, I somehow summersault out of his lap and directly on my knees. He is still wearing the sweatpants and even through the bottoms, I can see the outline of his dick. Hard, leaking, I kiss the outline over his clothes as he moans and it’s my turn to whisper, “Shh.”

Smirking, I palm the band as he lifts his hips to help me get him naked. His dick springs free and I finally understand the phrase “dick slapped.” It leaves a wet trail over my cheek. Staring into his eyes, I palm the crown while he bites his lips to keep quiet. Instead of giving attention to his dick, I go directly for the balls, rolling them between my lips, tonguing them in the middle.

He smells like soap and deodorant. I love a man with good hygiene. I rub my hands up and down his dick until he mutters, “Please.” And just like that I take him… deep. He hits the back of my throat. Gagging, I pull back until only his crown remains and lick it like the world’s best ice cream cone. It’s not, but he deserves to feel like a treat.

I take his hand and put it on the back of my head and he takes over, pulling and pushing me on his dick. Just as he bites his lip, I take him deep into my mouth until I can’t anymore. The sound and feel of my gagging set him off, and he comes down my throat.

Afterward, the room feels different. Quieter, we’re both lost in our thoughts.

Caden lies beside me, propped on one elbow, his fingertips tracing idle patterns across my arm. Nothing overtly sexual, just touch for the sake of touch. Comfort. Presence. It feels like being memorized.

I roll toward him, one leg sliding between his, and press my forehead to his chest. His heartbeat is steady. Grounding. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that kind of steadiness until now.

“You good?” he asks, voice low and thick with affection.

I nod against his skin. “Yeah. I just… forgot what it feels like. To be touched like this. Not out of obligation or routine, but like someone actually sees me.”

His hand stills over my back. “I see you,” he says. “Not just the polished version. The real you.”

I kiss him like I mean it, because I do. Because every cell in my body has been waiting for this, for him, and I’m not pretending otherwise anymore.

His hands slide over my hips, anchoring me to him like he can’t decide if he wants to hold me steady or pull me closer. I’m not sure I’m giving him a choice. I’m already pressing into him like gravity has a personal vendetta. My skin hums where he touches me, like his fingerprints are made of static and want.

Caden shifts beneath me, sitting up so we’re eye to eye, chest to chest. His hands frame my face and he kisses me again, slower this time, exploratory, like he’s savouring me. Like this isn’t some casual tryst, but something he's been waiting for. Hoping for.

“You’re dangerous,” I murmur against his mouth, a little breathless, a lot undone.

He grins, lips brushing mine. “Says the woman who kissed me first.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and press my forehead to his, heartbeat thudding in my throat. “If this ruins everything, I want it on record that it was worth it.”

He laughs softly, but there's something serious behind it, something tender. “It won’t ruin anything. Unless you ghost me after I make you breakfast.”

“You already made me breakfast.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”

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