Page 33 of Fire Me Up
It broke my heart anyway.
Deeper. Harder. The new trajectory nearly undid me. Each stroke felt like it sparked off my insides, pressure spooling tight at the base of my spine. My cock lay untouched against my stomach, leaking pre-cum across my abs.
Dylan’s face above me was focused heat—eyes dark and intent, lips parted, breath ragged. Sweat beaded on his brow, his hair falling across his forehead. I brushed it back, needing to see his eyes, to keep that line open.
The tenderness of it caught him off guard. His rhythm hitched, his expression softened, then sharpened again.
“Close,” he murmured, driving in with renewed purpose. “Want you to come with me.”
He reached between us, wrapping his hand around my neglected cock, and the dual sensation—his cock inside me, his fist stroking—was too much. Pleasure surged, a tidal wave I couldn’t outrun.
“Dylan,” I gasped, warning and plea all in one.
“Let go,” he urged, voice rough and earnest. “Come for me, Gael.”
His hand tightened, stroking in time with his thrusts, and the pressure peaked. My orgasm hit like a freight train—unstoppable, obliterating. I cried out, body bowing tight as I spilled over his hand and my stomach, wave after wave tearing through me.
Something about my release pushed him over the edge. He thrust once more, buried deep, and I felt him pulse inside me as he came. His face in that moment was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen—pleasure stripped bare, no walls.
It was a glimpse, but enough to spark hope. I slid my hands up his back, massaging tight muscles as I held him close.
We stayed there for a long moment, catching our breath. I kept massaging, not ready to let go, bone-deep connection humming between us. His weight was comforting, not crushing; his breath was warm at my neck. Finally, he eased out, both of us wincing at the sensitivity.
He tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash, then grabbed tissues to clean my stomach. The tenderness of it made my chest ache.
“Was that okay?” Dylan asked, uncharacteristically uncertain as he settled in beside me.
I turned, taking in his flushed cheeks, swollen lips, the concern in his eyes. “It was perfect,” I said honestly. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”
Relief flooded his face, followed by a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Good. That’s… good.”
He pulled me to him, arranging us so my head rested on his chest, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. It felt natural, comfortable—like we’d been sleeping together for years instead of minutes.
“We should probably shower,” he murmured into my hair, but he didn’t move.
“Later,” I said, too content to even think about it.
“Do you need to get back to your cat?”
“Not yet,” I said, though the truth was he was with Liv for the night and perfectly fine.
Dylan hummed, fingers tracing lazy patterns over my shoulder. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear was grounding. We were a mess—sticky with sweat and lube and whatever the tissues missed—but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
As sleep tugged at me, a thought rose through the haze of post-orgasmic bliss: I was falling in love with Dylan Kim. Therealization should have terrified me, but wrapped in his arms, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Chapter 11
Gael
Icouldn’t stop pacing. Two days since Dylan had turned my world upside down, and I still felt him everywhere—the phantom press of his body against mine, the lingering ache between my legs that reminded me with every step that I’d finally discovered what I’d been missing.
This morning, he’d texted to say he was coming to pick me up, and I had no idea what it meant. Were we just friends who fucked? Was this a casual hangout? Or was it something more, something I truly wanted?
Liv peered at me over the edge of her tablet. “You’re making Bacon nervous.”
I glanced down at my orange cat, who watched my back-and-forth with lazy interest, tail flicking. He didn’t look nervous at all. He was sprawled across the coffee table like he owned it.
Still, I didn’t want him anxious, so I stopped pacing and picked up Bacon’s backpack carrier from where I’d left it by the door. “Come on, buddy. Adventure time.”
