Page 132 of Meet Me at the Metro

Every movement we create has me growing wetter around him—literally drippingwith pleasure.

“I’m gonna ruin your couch.”

He chuckles darkly and plows into me harder. “Ruin my fucking couch, baby. I want you on every inch of this place. Understand?”

“Okay,” I cry out, leaking with insurmountable satisfaction. “Okay, baby. Okay.”

Drawing himself on his knees and pulling my hips up to align with his, he positions himself to watch me as he works me with his cock. He thoroughly studies my face as he slows his thrusts and presses himself deeper.

I could die a happy woman with him buried inside of me like this—could think of no better way to go out than with our two bodies intertwined.

“I love you, Nora.”

“I love you,” I sigh, relief and ecstasy washing over me in an unparalleled balance as he thrusts again. “Just as you are, Theo. I love you.”

Those words free his body from any restraint it might have practiced a breath ago. Theo drives into me over and over and over and over until my body is wracked in wave after wave of euphoria. I cry out his name as I claw my way over the pinnacle of my climax, fingers digging into the rigid muscles of his back to keep my soul tethered to my body.

Every inch of me is trembling as he rocks into me, reaching the peak of his own pleasure as he releases inside of me, groaning as he fills the condom.

Our bodies finally grow still against one another. Theo pulls out of me, gently pulls me atop him, and lays back against the cushions of the couch. With our warm skins flush with one another, he holds me until our racing hearts dim to a slow and steady beat again.

Our fingers find their way into each other’s disheveled hair, mirroring strokes.

When I lift my chest to glance at Theo, I see a thoughtful look in his eyes. “What are you thinking about, handsome thing?”

“I’m thinking that you’re it for me.”

34

BREAKFAST AND REFUSALS

T H E O

The savory smell of bacon and smoke fills the kitchen as my hands busy themselves making breakfast.Hozieris crackling against the record player upstairs, and I hum along to the well-versed lyrics echoing through the flat as I stir the beans bubbling in the small pot atop the stove eye.

I love mornings like this when the sun starts slowly pouring in through the flat and melts away the frost on the windows. Mornings that are filled with music, home-cooked breakfast, and the sound of my pretty girl singing like a damn angel as she showers upstairs.

I hear her soft, raspy voice sing the lyrics I used to listen to alone and smile. I thought I knew what it was to appreciate music before, but when it flows out of Nora’s mouth, it feels like I’m listening to pure worship.

And I’m not even a religious man.

The sizzling of bacon conjures my attention back to the hot skillets in front of me. I flip the thick pieces of meat before they burn, cursing a loud obscenity when the grease decides to be an arse and pop off the pan.

“Fuck me!”

Nora’s singing stops abruptly, and the steady stream of water cuts off.

“Teddy!? You good?”

“Fine!” I shout back, grumbling to myself at the tiny, red spot swelling on my lower belly. “Just getting bitch slapped with bacon grease!”

The sound of her giggles melodically carries through the apartment, and I bite back my own laugh as I switch off the stove eyes before they’re given an opportunity to assault me again.

I load up a plate with eggs, toast, beans, tomatoes, and bacon, grabbing a fork and a handful of napkins before carefully heading upstairs. Nora’s face lights up with pure delight when she spots me on the landing, her gaze trailing along the steaming food in my arms as well as over my exposed torso.

“Hungry?”

She grins. “You’re so hot.”

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