Page 74 of When I Come Back
It’s taking everything in me not to come. I need her to come before me. I need to feel her fall apart in my hands. I want to fill her with my cum as she contracts around my cock.
“Thea. Come.Now.” And as if my wish is her command, she detonates. Her entire body trembles. The muscles of her thighs constrict with the force of her orgasm. If she’s speaking, I can’t make it out because I am solely focused on the feel of her cunt squeezing me. My cock unloading inside her, pulsing. My hips relentlessly and mindlessly slamming into her, filling her up.
I’ve never felt like this during sex. Like I was handing everything I am over to another person. Even with Thea… before.
As I slowly come down from my orgasm, I loosen the grip on Thea’s throat. The world around us starts to come back into focus. The fire dying down in the fireplace. The hard floor barely cushioned by the blanket under our knees. My body fully enveloping Thea’s small frame. Her pulse thudding under my fingertips.
I let go of her and lower her to the blanketed floor. My softening cock slips free as I lean over her, both of us catching our breath.
I kiss her shoulder, her back, still leaning over her as I hold myself up with my arms.
“I love you, Lemon,” I whisper right into her ear.
Slowly. Oh so slowly, Thea turns herself around to lay on her back and looks up at me. My arms are shaky as they bracket her head, and it’s taking all of the strength I have left to keep myself from collapsing on top of her.
Her eyes are molten chocolate, eyelids heavy from her orgasm. “I love you, Cary,” she says, running her fingers up and down my sides. Her nails rake across my skin. I kiss her softly before dropping down next to her. Thea pulls herself in, her arm circling my middle, head resting on my chest.
I reach around and draw a blanket over us, and we drift off to the soundtrack of the quiet crackling fire.
Epilogue
Thea
2 Months Later
“Igotta go, the birthday boy is finally up,” I say into the phone, a smile stretching across my face as Cary rolls his eyes with a chuckle at my comment. I’m standing in the kitchen in front of the island, the flour, eggs, and sugar sitting out in front of me. I have Ripley on speaker so I could attempt to make breakfast to surprise my boyfriend, but of course, he woke up before I could finish.
“Alright, babe, call me later,” Ripley says, his voice echoing through the room. Cary’s face immediately goes stern at the nickname we still use. He hates it with a burning passion.
“She’s not your ‘babe,’ asshole,” Cary quips from the living room, his tattooed back on display as he picks up the blanket we tossed to the floor last night. In front of the fireplace has become one of our favorite places this winter. I have to hold in a groan at the sight of his ass in the jeans I love.
“Shit. Forgot I was on speaker. Sorry, Care Bear.” I try to hold in my laugh at the use of Cary’s nickname from his ex-fiancée. I swear to God, Ripley lives to push his buttons. “I can hear him glaring at me through the phone, so you have fun with that, Thea. Love you!” He hangs up so quickly I don’t even have the chance to say goodbye.
Cary walks toward me, his look of annoyance clearing with each stride. “What’s going on in here?” he asks, looking around the kitchen at the mess I’ve made despite not having anything to show for it yet.
“I…” I follow his gaze. There’s a huge mess from my first attempt at pancakes that resulted in me burning them. Flour covers the counters, there’s a cracked egg close to the sink, the sugar bag is tipped over, it looks like a baking bomb went off in my kitchen. The sink is even worse with dirty bowls stacked up on one side and a goopy whisk resting on the edge dripping into the basin. A nervous giggle leaves my lips as I find his eyes again. “I was going to make you pancakes but… I’ve only made a mess so far.”
He walks around the breakfast bar, not saying a word. The temperature in the room ticks up from the look in his eyes. His arms wrap around my waist from behind as his chin sits on my shoulder, and a shudder slides down my spine. He turns his head to whisper into my ear as his hands slide down my naked thighs, “You look so fucking hot in this apron, Lem.”
My cheeks immediately blush. I’m only wearing his button down shirt with a few of the buttons done up and the apron on top.
“Mhmm, I can say the same for you. Happy birthday, baby,” I say as I turn my face to meet his lips. The kiss is short but filled with the love we’ve poured into our relationship in the last couple months.
It’s been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster in the best way possible. After the night he told me he was choosing me and handed me the papers to RED, everything changed. We slipped into a life together. He moved in overnight. I called Rachel and let her know the position had been filled. I felt terrible about it, but Cary coming back permanently and taking the head chef position at RED was a dream come true—one I refused to let slip away.
We still have things to work through, and we are far from perfect, but I can confidently say I am happy. So fucking happy. I, of course, had fears we couldn’t work a second time around. I thought maybe it wasn’t just Seattle that was the issue.
Thankfully, I’d been wrong. Living with him, being with him, loving him in Indigo Hill feltright. It no longer felt like there was a piece missing or like something was wrong on a cellular level. It felt like we were kids again, back when our love was pure and not clouded by adult responsibilities and problems.
“You want help?” he asks into my ear.
I nod my head as I meet his eyes over my shoulder. “Always.”
He presses a kiss to my temple, and I spin around in his arms, my flour covered hands coming to the sides of his face, leaving a trail as I press my lips to his. He groans into my mouth, his hands falling to the edges of the counter, caging me in as he presses his hips into mine.
“You keep this up, and we’ll be making a baby on this counter, not pancakes.” His voice comes out in a rasp telling me that’s exactly what he’d rather be doing.
“Hmm, so are you hungry, or should I keep going?” I ask through the laughter bubbling in my chest. We’ve both been insatiable. It’s like we’re trying to make up for the eight years lost. It’s a wonder we’re able to leave the house, honestly.
