Addison
I barely gave Sawyer time to breathe before I shifted us, pushing her back onto the mattress.
My knees bracketed her hips, and my palms pressed beside her shoulders as I looked down at her. Her lips were swollen, her breathing uneven, and the dark want in her eyes made something inside me snap.
No easing into it. No second-guessing.
I kissed her hard, taking her mouth like I already knew she would meet me there. She did, pulling a low, wrecked sound from somewhere deep in her chest.
I rolled my hips against her, slow and deliberate, and she groaned beneath me.
“Fuck,” she breathed. “Addie—”
The sound of my name on her tongue sent heat curling low in my body.
I ground down again, harder this time, chasing it, chasing the friction, chasing the ache that was starting to feel almost unbearable.
Her hands slid up my thighs, gripping, like she needed the anchor, like she was trying not to move too much because if she did she might not stop.
I kissed her again and dragged my mouth down her jaw, her throat, then back to her lips, everywhere I could reach. I wanted her breathless. Wanted her undone.
“God,” she groaned, her voice rough now. “You feel so fucking good.”
I smiled against her mouth and kept moving. My hands slid over her shoulders and her chest, my thumbs brushing slow and teasing. Every reaction she gave me, every gasp and hitch of breath, went straight through me and made me bolder.
This was my first time like this, with a woman, with her, and I wanted everything. I ground down again and Sawyer’s composure cracked just a little. Her hips lifted without permission, chasing mine, chasing more.
“Baby, fuck—” she muttered, her eyes squeezed shut. “Addison, I’m—”
She stopped herself. I felt it. The restraint. The effort. That almost undid me. I kissed her harder and swallowed her words, my body moving on instinct now. My moan slipped out before I could stop it, hot and needy, and the sound seemed to snap something loose in her.
Her hands slid up my back and gripped tight. “Fuck,” she said, barely controlled. “You’re going to kill me.”
I laughed softly, breathless. “Good.”
I rolled my hips again, slower now, deliberate, drawing it out. I wanted to stay right here where everything was sharp and electric and new. God, I wanted her to fuck me. The thought hit me so hard my breath stuttered.
I leaned down, pressing my forehead to hers, my mouth hovering just over her lips. “Sawyer…” I whispered, the word thick and loaded. One more word sat right behind it, please, aching to be said.
I felt her freeze. Not pulling away. Not panicking. Just choosing. Her hands slid up my arms, firm but gentle, grounding me. She kissed my forehead, my cheek, my mouth, slower now, steadier.
“Hey,” she murmured, her voice low and careful. “I know.”
That was all she said, and somehow that was everything. She kissed me again, unhurried, her hands holding me like she wasn’t letting this tip into something rushed, like she knew exactly how much I wanted and wasn’t going to take it just because she could.
I exhaled against her mouth, the ache still there, still loud, but softened by the way she touched me. “Stay,” I whispered instead.
Her hands tightened at my back. “I am.”
So I stayed right there on top of her, grinding slow and deep, our mouths never still and our bodies pressed close, want humming between us, hot and relentless but held in place. Not because we couldn’t go further. Because we would. Just not tonight.
Somehow that made it worse and better at the same time.
Eventually, we had to move. Not because the want faded. It didn’t. But because time pressed in, because the clock didn’t care what we were trying not to do. We stayed tangled longer than we should have, foreheads touching, legs still wrapped, breathing slowing only because it had to.
I traced idle lines along Sawyer’s arm, memorizing the weight of her, the warmth of her skin, the way she fit against me like she’d always known where to go. She pressed a kiss into my hair, then my temple, like she was sealing the moment in place before we broke it.
“Okay,” I murmured, even though I didn’t mean it yet.
She sighed, soft and unwilling, but nodded.
We untangled slowly, reluctant limbs and one last lingering kiss, her hand squeezing mine like a promise instead of a goodbye.
When she stood she pulled her bra and shirt back on, movements unhurried, her eyes never quite leaving me.
I stayed on the bed a beat longer, watching her like I didn’t trust the room to hold the memory once she stepped away.
Later I walked her to the door.
Sawyer hesitated with her helmet in hand. “What’s your weekend look like?”
I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face. “Full-on bridal shower chaos. Saturday’s the bridal party. Sunday’s favors, centerpieces, the whole pre-wedding circus.”
She blinked. “Sounds… exhausting.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered. “My friends are intense. Junior League, debutante ball, ‘why aren’t you married yet’ kind of intense. If they knew I was seeing a woman, let alone you—”
“Me?” She raised a brow, amused.
“You ride a motorcycle. You weld metal for a living. You have rainbow hair and wear leather,” I said dryly. “They’d spontaneously combust.”
Sawyer smirked. “And yet here you are.”
“Yeah,” I said more quietly. “Here I am. And I really like it.”
She stepped closer and brushed her knuckles along my jaw, her touch light but grounding. “Yeah?”
I hesitated, then answered honestly. “Yeah, I do. I mean… It’s a lot, but I’d rather be with you this weekend.”
Her expression softened. She kissed me slowly, one hand cupping my cheek.
“We’ll have our time,” she whispered. “I promise.”
“It won’t be until the weekend after next.” I groaned. “That feels impossibly far away.” I glanced toward the bedroom. “Maybe we should go back to bed, fuck now, and stop pretending.”
Sawyer leaned closer, her voice low and confident. “We’re not pretending.” She kissed me once. “We’re giving it time.” Another kiss. “And I’m worth the wait.”
“You’re so cocky.”
“I’m so right.”
I laughed, kissed her one last time, “Good night, baby.”
“Goodnight, Sunshine.”
She stepped into the cool night and pulled on her helmet. After swinging onto the bike, she looked back at me once.
I stood barefoot in the doorway, arms crossed like I was trying to hold myself together. Sawyer rode off, and I stayed there until the sound of her motorcycle disappeared.
My heart was still racing, my body warm with the memory of her.
This didn’t feel like a fling anymore. It felt like a door I had already walked through.
When I finally went back inside, I saw the spare helmet sitting on the table.
My helmet.
She had left it for me.
Warmth spread through my chest as turned off the lights and set the alarm and headed to the bedroom.
I was still buzzing, like my body hadn’t realized she was gone. I crawled beneath the covers and stared at the ceiling, my pulse loud in my ears.
I was soaked.
All it took was thinking about Sawyer’s mouth. Her hands. The way she had said baby like it wasn’t a line, like it had just slipped out of her, natural and unguarded.
My fingers moved before I could overthink it, slow at first, almost hesitant, like I was easing back into something that still felt too new, too charged. I let myself feel it instead of rushing it, dragging the moment out the way I thought she would have.
She had me so wet. I lightly circled at my clit. My head tipped back against the pillow as I exhaled, my eyes slipping closed as the feeling hit—immediate, like my body had been waiting for it.
A small sound left me before I could stop it as I imagined the way she had looked at me when my shirt came off. The pause. The heat in her eyes.
“God…” I whispered, barely there, the word dissolving into a breath as my fingers moved, finding a rhythm.
I followed that feeling, chasing it, my hips shifting instinctively beneath my hand, a subtle roll that turned into something more deliberate when it made the sensation spike.
I pressed down harder. My breath went uneven, catching and stuttering as it built faster than I thought it would, each small movement pulling something tighter inside me.
“Fuck—” The word broke off, replaced by a shaky inhale.
My thighs tightened, drawing in as if there was something there to hold onto, my hand pressing a little firmer as I chased the feeling, trying to keep it right where it was. A soft, broken sound slipped from my throat as I tipped my head to the side, my back arching just slightly off the mattress.
“Baby—Sawyer—”
I let myself imagine her there.
On top of me. Her weight settling between my thighs, grounding me.
One hand braced beside my head, the other sliding down my stomach, slow, deliberate, like she knew exactly what she was doing even if I didn’t.
Her mouth at my neck, warm and open, pulling a breath out of me as her teeth grazed just enough to make my hips lift into nothing.
“Stay still,” I could almost hear her murmur, low and steady, her hand pressing me back down as her thumb found me, slow at first, then firmer, more certain.
My breath broke completely at that.
“Please…” The word came out quieter than I expected, more breath than sound.
It was the almost that did it.
The not finished. The not enough.
The way everything in me felt like it had been started and left wide open, like her hands had been everywhere and then nowhere all at once, leaving my body chasing something it couldn’t quite reach.
“Don’t stop—” I whispered, even though it was just me.
My movements lost any hesitation, chasing it now, my breath breaking into soft, uneven sounds as the tension coiled fast, too fast. My thighs trembled, pulling in, my whole body tightening around the sensation like I was trying to hold onto it and push through it at the same time.
The tension snapped before I could slow it down.
Sharp. Sudden.
My back arched fully this time, a broken sound catching in my throat as my hand stilled for a second and then pressed again, riding it out as it hit in uneven waves, pulling through me, leaving me shaking beneath the sheets.
It wasn’t smooth.
It wasn’t controlled.
It was overwhelming.
Her name on my lips as I came. Hard.
When it finally eased, I lay there, chest rising too fast, skin warm and damp, my fingers going still where they were as the feeling faded in slow, uneven pulses.
I swallowed, my lips parting on a quiet exhale, my heart still racing like it hadn’t caught up yet.
For a long second afterward, I couldn’t move. I lay there with my chest heaving, my skin flushed, one hand pressed to my stomach like I needed the reminder that I was still here. Still me.
I hated and loved that it wasn’t just sex. It was how easily she lived in my head. How my body answered her without hesitation. How being wanted by her had unlocked something I hadn’t let myself want in years.
Before I could lose my nerve, I reached for my phone and opened our messages.
Me: I just touched myself while thinking about you…
Me: Thought you might like to know.
My phone rang almost immediately.
Not a text. A call.
I answered with a smile. “Hi.”
“Jesus, baby,” Sawyer breathed. “You can’t just say things like that.”
I could tell she was flustered and I liked it. “I can, and I did.”
“You’re so fucking sexy, Addison.”
Heat rushed through me all over again.
“Was it good?” she asked.
“So good.” I sank deeper into the pillows. “I was already so wet and worked up from you. Shirtless in my bed. I had to.”
“And you had to tell me?”
“Well, yeah.” I smiled, feeling bolder by the second. “Now you can touch yourself and think about it.”
“Addison.”
“Sweet dreams, babe.”
“Addison,” she said again, sounding almost pained.
“Good night, Sawyer.”
“Fuck,” she muttered. “Good night.”
* * *