Page 19 of Til Divorce Do Us Start

There’s no denying him, not when I want it and want him. I touch myself slowly, matching the pace of my blow job, then thrust my fingers in. Colin’s hot, eager gaze moves between my hand and my face. His thumb strokes along my cheek. “Such a good girl when you want to be.”

I hum around his cock and keep working us both up until I’m right on the edge. He frees his cock from my lips and reaches over to his night stand. My hand pauses and he lightly swats my thigh. “Keep going. Make yourself come if you want me to fuck you.”

He strokes himself while watching me. He rips open a condom with his teeth. It’s so hot. Just as hot as his focus staying entirely and completely on me even when he rolls the condom on. I come for my own fingers, my eyes rolling back as my hips lift off the bed.

Then Colin is there, spreading my legs around his hips as he fills me with one sure stroke. My mouth opens and my moan breaks on a wheeze. He’s so big. My pussy stretches around him, but I still feel him pulsing. Can hear his groan fill my ears along with my heart beat.

It’s impossible to hate him. I was stupid for trying.

Chapter 12 - Collin

She can’t be real. She can’t feel this good in every way. Watching her lips part, her flushed face, her perfect tits bouncing as she clings to me and pulls me closer is hot, and it feelsright. Every emotion I’ve been trying to stuff down is starting to break free.

I draw almost all the way out of her and thrust into her again. And again. I lick over her breast and pant. “So fucking good, Noelle. Keep being good for me.”

“Yes!” She yells. “I’ll be your good girl, Colin!”

I lose track of her moans. I just keep chasing the next one. She smells good, feels good, she’s meant to be right here. I wrap her thighs around me and set a pace that keeps her whimpering and whining for me. I slowly rub her clit, leave hickeys on her perfect breasts, flip her over so I get to enjoy her from every angle. None of it is enough.

Ten years.

We lost ten years of this, of our fun in the kitchen, of our stupid arguments and teasing. Ten fucking years because I didn’t take her phone number. Because I’m an idiot. Five, almost six weeks together has proven it.

“You’re mine, Noelle. Stop looking for anything else,” I whisper in her ear and it seems as the words push her last button as she comes for me again.

Her pussy tightens so much, that it pushes me over the edge with her. I scream her name and press my forehead against hers as the waves of my orgasm subside. Her nails bite at my skin as her thighs tighten around me. I shudder and welcome the too-fragile, too-vulnerable emotions I don’t let myself feel. They sweep over me and carry me away.

When I come down, she’s panting, but stroking my back softly. Her fingertips tease my nape, making me shiver. I moan. “You’re an enchantress.”

She laughs softly. “Says the man who can apparently demand orgasms and get them.”

I smile and kiss her slowly, deeply. “I promised all night.”

“You did,” she hums. “I’m going to hold it against you.”

“Do it,” I dare, kissing her hungrily and rolling her to the edge of the bed. We have all night to enjoy this just like we need.

**

In the morning, I stare at Noelle in my bed, nuzzling my chest. She’s managed to wrap both of her legs around one of mine. My stomach drops. Is she that afraid I’m going to leave again? That I won’t come back to my own home, to her? I kiss her forehead to try and ease my guilt and calm her.

She hums and presses into my kiss.

“I’m getting us breakfast,” I whisper in her ear. “I know what you like.”

I ease out of her touch, even if it’s like escaping a snake desperate to coil. She settles for my pillow and presses her face to it. I adjust the blanket over her shoulders and kiss her temple again.

On good days, especially Saturdays, Noelle likes to get gourmet croissants. I even know the name of the store because I’ve seen the label so often. With one more stroke through her hair, I get dressed while being as quiet as possible.

I look at her—curled up in my bed where sheshouldbe, nuzzling my pillow, wrapped in my blanket after a night that wrecked every bit of distance I’d tried to keep.

There’s no question: Noelle belongs here. With me. I can protect her, challenge her, hold her when she’s soft, argue with her when she’s sharp—and still never lose my grip. Iwantto. God, do I want to.

And that’s what terrifies me.

The second the thought fully lands, my stomach knots and my chest tightens. I don’twantto want her—not like this. Wanting her means letting go of control. And control is the only thing that’s ever kept me safe.

I’ve already had to learn how to let go a little—at work, with my team, when I finally stopped trying to do everything on my own. That was hard enough.

---