Chapter 22
twenty-two
. . .
Witt
Game Chat Glitch
Real partnership begins when someone decides to trust.
My hand is steady in hers despite the unfamiliar storm inside my chest. No one has ever crossed this threshold—not staff, not family, not the fleeting connections of my past. Yet here she is, my brilliant, curvy, gorgeous employee who has infiltrated my thoughts for weeks.
“You cracked the code… again,” I whisper, voice low and raw with the weight of that truth.
I hover over her, my lips tracing slow, reverent kisses along the soft fullness of her neck, her shoulders, down the generous swell of her breasts and the beautiful curve of her belly.
Every inch of her feels like warmth and safety, a sensory haven I never knew I craved.
“That’s what I do best,” she says with one corner of her mouth tipping up. “I found a glitch in the hardware.”
“Yeah?”
“Your pants are still on.”
I still for a half-second. Her saying glitch immediately made me think of Rune. That’s what she called me. I shake it off because it’s commonplace in any computer industry.
Maci reaches for my belt buckle, but I shake my head no. “I’ll do it.”
Why? Because I need some semblance of control. Right now, I’m not feeling like I have any. My body and mind reacting in ways I’m unfamiliar with.
A shy smile tugs at her lips as I stand up, immediately feeling the loss of our body heat.
My hands move to my belt, fingers steady even as my pulse races with sensations I’ve never allowed myself to fully feel.
I slide my pants and boxers down and step out of them, exposed in every way—body and mind.
Now I’m the one exposed, and somehow that feels less dangerous than the way she watches me. She’s still in her plain black bra and those ridiculous panties covered in tiny ice cream cones, and I shouldn’t find them endearing.
I do anyway.
I press one knee onto the mattress and let my hand skim lightly over her stomach. She goes still beneath me, not from fear, but from something sharper. Self-consciousness. I recognize the pattern.
The way her fingers tighten on my shoulders.
The way her breath catches.
The way her cheeks turn a deep, tomato red the second I lower my mouth to the soft skin below her navel.
I feel her suck in a breath like she can make herself smaller if she doesn’t breathe.
“Don’t.” It comes out more like her boss telling her not to change the system dynamics.
Her eyes widen. “Don’t what?”
"Don't re-engineer yourself," I say, my gaze entirely fixed on her. "You view your body as a bug, but to me… it’s an optimal feature. The design is flawless."
The blush spreads down her throat lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
“Witt—”
“Flawless.”
It comes out too blunt. I know that because her lips part and her expression flickers, like she’s deciding whether to laugh, hide, or argue with me. So, I make myself slow down. I look at her the way my brain wants to look at systems and patterns and beautiful impossible things—carefully.
Completely.
“You’re soft here,” I say, brushing my thumb lightly over her side, “and warm here, and your skin changes color when I kiss you. That isn’t a flaw. It’s information.”
Her laugh trembles. “Only you would call that information.”
“Accurate information,” I correct. Then I lean down and kiss her again, gentler this time, giving her room to believe me. “You’re beautiful, Maci.”
Her fingers loosen on my shoulders, but she doesn’t let go. “You say that like it’s a fact.”
I kiss under her sternum then look up at her. “It is.”
Finally, she lets out a breath.
Maci being in my bed and in this space that holds my routines, my collections, my quietest self, makes the air electric.
Our bodies press together as foreplay unfolds in gentle exploration.
My fingers map her skin and hers do the same to me.
The texture of her, the way she responds, floods my senses with overwhelming connection rather than the usual overload.
For the first time, touch doesn’t fragment me—it anchors me. She’s not just anyone. She’s Maci, the woman who sees past my neurodivergent edges and makes me want to share them.
I suck on her breasts and she arches into me. My fingers work her center and she pants, “Feels so good.”
“It does,” I affirm and in a few moments she comes on my hand.
Pulling my fingers from her center, I rub them over her lips.
She giggles. “Okay, you win. I couldn’t last.”
I can’t help but laugh because she might as well be an O’Ryan with her competitiveness. The thought makes me pause. I’ve never truly thought of a woman in that way. I wipe the thought away, not wanting to be pulled from this extraordinary moment.
“Do you want this? Do you want me?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
The air is heavy, thick with the thought of being intimate in this way. Then I ask her, “Will you touch me first?”
Her eyes sparkle. “Yes.” She reaches between us and at first just holds my cock in her hand, swiping her thumb over my head. “It’s heavy and soft and… long.”
“It is. It wants you… I want you.”
She opens her mouth and closes it just as quick.
The time for talking is over and I cover her mouth with mine.
I need her like I need quiet.
I need her more than I need structure.
She takes my cock and rubs the head against her entrance. The more she does it the wetter she becomes. And when she hits my head against her clit, she lets out a satisfied purr.
I cover her hand with mine and remove the barrier between us. And I push inside her, inch by inch.
Maci’s neck arches. “Oh… ahhh.”
“Tell me if it hurts. We don’t have to…”
She smiles against my mouth. “I’ve been dreaming of being with you.”
Now I’m the one smiling into the kiss.
As our bodies instinctively know what the other needs, the lovemaking becomes profoundly different than anything I imagined possible.
Waves of pleasure build slowly, deliberately, our rhythms syncing in a dance of care and deepening intimacy.
I lose myself in the softness of her embrace, in the shared breaths and whispered names, feeling emotions surge that I’ve never experienced with another person.
When her center clamps around mine, she shakes as she orgasms. And I fall right along with her as a rough growl escapes my chest. This isn’t mere release—it’s trust and vulnerability transformed into something sacred.
My weight falls on her skin lightly sheened with sweat. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say and I think too hard, I might not say anything, so I say exactly what I’m thinking instead of testing the waters.
“You’re amazing. Every part of you. Your brain. Your sense of humor. And especially your body.” My is head tucked into the pocket between her neck and shoulder, and I place a peck on her shoulder.
Maci pushes me up just a little and wipes the hair sticking to my forehead from my face. She peers into my eyes and I let her.
“You seem to know me better than I know myself.” Her smile is so wide, and it makes me feel like jelly. “Now I think we need to level up.”
I raise a brow. “You do?”
“I can’t wait to feel what you have planned for level two,” she says, letting out an unrestrained laugh.
“Can we hit the pause button?” I ask as I collapse onto her body. Honestly, I’ve never come so hard in all of my life.
She whispers in my ear, “I’m scared to stop or you’ll say, ‘Game over.’”
I lift to my elbows. “I’m not getting off. We just started playing.”
Maci is the first woman I’ve cared for like this, the only one invited into both my room and my heart, and every sensation etches itself permanently into my being—beautiful, intense, and utterly new. In this moment, with her, I am whole.