Page 30 of Back in the Bay

"Show me," I challenge, already pulling at his shirt.

We don't even make it to the bedroom. The living room becomes our initial battlefield, with clothes strewn about like casualties in the aftermath of a heated argument. Cole's tongue carves tantalizing trails down my skin, a blend of the familiar and the electrifyingly new. As he nestles between my thighs, the world beyond melts away, and I am no longer an attorney with a corner office in Portland. I am simply Mabel, arching into his eager mouth, fingers entangled in his soft, fair hair.

"God, you taste exactly how I remembered," he groans, looking up at me with those impossibly blue eyes that seem to pierce right through me.

When his mouth descends upon me once more, it's slow and deliberate, a tantalizing slide that makes me arch against him with a fierce, primal need that surprises us both. This isn't the frantic, heated coupling from earlier—this is worship, reverence, a promise spoken in the language of flesh and breath. His tongue dances over me, exploring every inch with a tenderness that feels like a sacred ritual.

His technique has evolved since high school—he's learned things and discovered ways to make me shatter that his eighteen-year-old self never knew. The flat of his tongue presses against me with perfect pressure before he draws gentle circles that have me gasping his name. My thighs tremble against his shoulders as he works me with devastating precision.

"Cole," I breathe, my voice breaking on his name. "I can't?—"

But he doesn't relent. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as his mouth becomes more insistent. The boy who used to fumble with my bra strap has become a man who knows precisely how to unravel me completely. He alternates between soft, teasing flicks and deeper, more demanding strokes that make my vision blur.

"I'm going to devour you," he growls into the skin of my inner thigh, his rough stubble igniting a fiery trail of sensation. "Tell me what you want."

"You," I gasp, my hands fisting in his hair. "All of you. Forever."

The word escapes my lips before I can catch it, lingering in the air between us like a whispered secret. Cole's gaze locks with mine, eyes deep and smoldering with desire and an unfathomable depth of emotion.

"Forever sounds perfect to me," he murmurs, just before his tongue finds that elusive spot that draws my voice out in a cry of his name.

I'm coming apart beneath him, every nerve ending alight. The successful attorney who argues cases in front of judges dissolves into a shuddering mess. I shatter beneath him, my body vividly recalling the way he could unravel me with nothing but his mouth. As the tremors gradually fade, I pull him up towards me, craving the taste of him once more, eager to give back what he's given me.

"My turn," I whisper, pushing him onto his back.

I take my time exploring the body that feels both familiar and foreign to me. Cole's broader now, with muscles defined by years spent working with his hands. His skin is rougher, a testament to the hard work and dedication etched into every line and curve. As I take him into my mouth, he lets out a deep, resonant groan, my name spilling from his lips like a fervent prayer filled with reverence and longing.

"Mabel, I'm not going to last if you?—"

"Good," I murmur against him. "I want you to fall apart for me."

I take him deeper, remembering exactly how he likes it—the pressure of my tongue, the rhythm that used to drive him wild in the back of his pickup truck all those years ago. Hiships buck involuntarily, and I press them down with my palms, maintaining complete control.

"Jesus, Mabel," he rasps, his voice strained and desperate. "You're going to kill me."

I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, my lips still wrapped around him. The look in his eyes is pure torture—a beautiful agony that makes heat pool between my thighs all over again. I've missed this power, this ability to reduce him to nothing but sensation and need.

My mouth works him with deliberate precision, alternating between gentle suction and firm strokes of my tongue. He's trembling beneath me now, his hands fisted in the throw pillows, fighting for control he's already lost.

"Look at me," I command softly, and his eyes snap open, that familiar blue now dark with desire. "I want to watch you come undone."

His breathing becomes ragged as I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks and using every technique I've learned in the years we've been apart. But it's the memories of what he loved before that guide me—the gentle scrape of teeth, the swirl of my tongue around his tip, the way I hum softly against him.

"Mabel, I'm—" His warning comes out strangled, desperate.

I don't pull away. Instead, I increase my pace, one hand working what my mouth can't reach while the lingers on Cole's hip bone. His whole body goes rigid beneath me, muscles coiled tight as a spring.

"God, yes," he groans, his control finally snapping. "Don't stop, I’m going to come. Fuck, I’m going to come.”

And he does, beautifully, completely, his hands gentle in my hair as he comes undone. His release hits my tongue in waves, and I swallow everything he gives me, savoring the taste of him and the broken sounds spilling from his lips. His body shuddersbeneath my hands as I work him through it, gentle now, coaxing out every last tremor until he's completely spent.

When I finally pull away, he's staring at the ceiling with glazed eyes, chest heaving like he's just run a marathon. I crawl up his body, pressing soft kisses to his ribs, his chest, and the hollow of his throat, where his pulse still races wildly.

"Christ," he breathes, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him. "I forgot how good you are at that."

"I’m glad you noticed," I murmur against his neck, tasting salt on his skin.

He lets out a low chuckle that vibrates through his chest. "How could I not?”

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