26. Addison
Addison
When Sawyer opened the door, barefoot and holding a half-full glass of whiskey, I nearly melted. She looked unfair.
The neckline of her T-shirt hung loose with her collarbone on display, one hip cocked casually against the doorframe like this wasn’t the most charged moment of my life.
“Hi, beautiful,” Sawyer said softly before leaning in to kiss me.
The kiss was firm, slow, and familiar. The second her mouth touched mine, some of the nervous energy I’d been carrying all evening loosened.
“Hi,” I said with a laugh against her lips.
Sawyer’s hand settled at my waist as she studied my face. “You okay?” she asked.
The question shouldn’t have made me emotional, but it did. I nodded once before immediately shaking my head.
“Yeah. No. Not really,” I admitted.
Concern flashed across her face. “Addie—”
I grabbed the front of her shirt and laughed. “Not like that,” I said quickly. “I’m just nervous.”
Sawyer’s shoulders relaxed. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered.
“I know it’s ridiculous,” I said as I stepped inside.
“It isn’t ridiculous,” Sawyer replied, closing the door behind me.
I looked down at my shoes before meeting her eyes again. “I’ve spent like three weeks thinking about this.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Only three?” she teased.
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
Sawyer stepped closer and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to be nervous,” she said quietly.
“I know,” I told her.
I wasn’t nervous because I didn’t trust her, I was nervous because I did. I wanted this. I wanted her.
I set my bag down, reached for her hand and walked into the living room.
I took a slow breath and reached for the zipper on my hoodie.
Sawyer’s eyes followed the movement. “Addison,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.
“Just let me do this before I lose my nerve,” I replied.
The corner of her mouth twitched. I unzipped it all the way and pushed it off my shoulders. Silence followed. Sawyer just stared.
The glass in her hand lowered slightly as her eyes moved over me. “Jesus Christ,” she breathed.
Heat flooded my face instantly. Every instinct I had told me to cross my arms, make a joke, or grab the sweatshirt and pull it back on. Instead, I stayed where I was. I let her look. I didn’t hide.
“You hate it?” I asked, trying for confidence and not entirely succeeding.
Sawyer laughed softly. “Hate it?” she repeated.
Her gaze lifted back to mine.
“Baby, I think I stopped breathing,” she admitted.
My heart did something dangerous inside my chest.
“Good,” I said, smiling despite myself.
Sawyer crossed the remaining distance between us and rested her hands carefully on my waist.
“You’re beautiful,” she said.
The sincerity in her voice hit harder than the staring had.
I looked up at her and felt something inside me finally settle. Not because I wasn’t scared anymore. Because I was done letting fear run the show.
“Take me to bed.” I said.
“Happily,” she said, her voice low as she laced her fingers through mine and pulled me toward her bedroom.
She kissed me as she walked me back, slow and distracting, until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. I barely had time to react before she guided me down, her body following, climbing over me like she already knew exactly where she wanted to be.
Her knee slid between my thighs, pressing just right as she kissed me, I gasped. The pressure pulled a moan from me before I could stop it, my hips shifting instinctively against her leg.
“Please,” I breathed, the word slipping out without thought.
Her mouth curved against mine like she liked that.
Her hands moved to my back, fingers finding the clasp of my bra and undoing it in one smooth motion. She dragged it off me, tossing it somewhere behind us before her hands came back—warm, firm, everywhere at once.
“Fuck…” she murmured, her voice rough now as she cupped my breasts, her thumbs brushing over my nipples like she couldn’t help herself. “So perfect.”
The words sent a sharp pulse straight through me, my breath catching as my back arched into her touch.
She didn’t wait.
Her mouth followed a second later as she lowered her head, wrapping her lips around one nipple and pulling it in slow, deep, deliberate. The sensation hit hard, a broken sound leaving me as my fingers twisted into her shirt, holding on. I arched off the bed, a loud, helpless moan spilling from me.
“Fuck, baby… so good.”
Sawyer growled softly against my skin, the sound vibrating through me as she switched sides. Her mouth moved with purpose—tongue circling, teeth grazing—while her hand kneaded the other breast like she couldn’t touch me enough.
I tried to get her shirt off, my hands fumbling, but I couldn’t focus, everything pulling me back to what she was doing.
“Off… please,” I breathed, barely getting the words out.
She sat up just enough to look at me, a slow smirk pulling at her mouth as she reached for the hem of her shirt, dragging it and her bra off in one smooth motion.
“Better?” she asked, voice low, teasing.
“Fuck… so much better,” I breathed, my voice rough as I reached for her. “Come here.”
She didn’t make me ask twice.
Sawyer came back down over me, her skin warm against mine, her mouth finding mine again before trailing lower—slow, deliberate—down my ribs and over my stomach. Her hands followed, pushing my sweats down my hips, guiding them off as she went.
She paused.
Her eyes flicked up to mine, then back down to the lace that matched the bra that had long gone, her mouth curving slightly.
“So pretty,” she murmured.
Heat rushed through me, sharp and immediate.
She kissed lower.
I was already soaked—I could feel it, the damp heat between my thighs, the way my body reacted the second she got close. She noticed.
Of course she did.
A soft sound left her as she pressed her nose against me through the fabric, inhaling, then licking over the damp spot.
My whole body jolted. “Baby,” I moaned, my hands tightening in the sheets. “Yes… more.”
She did it again.
Slow.
Painfully slow.
Dragging her tongue over the same spot, letting me feel every second of it, she knew exactly what it was doing to me.
“Off—Sawyer—baby, off,” I begged, my hips lifting helplessly.
She didn’t rush. She kissed my hip first, soft, then dragged my underwear down my legs, peeling them off inch by inch before tossing them aside.
Then she took her time. Her mouth pressed to my inner thigh, kissing slow, open-mouthed as she worked her way down, sucking a bruise just above my knee before moving higher again. Her teeth grazed lightly at the crease where my thigh met my pelvis, the sensation sharp enough to make me gasp.
I trembled beneath her, my thighs tightening around her without meaning to.
“You’ve been thinking about this,” Sawyer whispered, her voice low, rough, her eyes lifting to lock on mine. Her hand slid between my legs, fingers brushing through the slick heat. “God, baby… you’re soaked.”
“I’ve been wet for weeks,” I gasped, my voice already breaking. “Every time you touched me. Every time you kissed me and stopped.”
Sawyer groaned, dropping her head to kiss the inside of my thigh again. “I’m not stopping now.”
Her fingers slid up again, gentle and teasing, stroking slow circles around my clit. She didn’t rush. Didn’t let me look away.
Oh god, it feel too fucking good.
I writhed beneath her, hips rolling toward her hand. “Please.”
“What do you need?” she asked, her voice barely above a growl.
“You,” I said, breathless. “Inside. Please, fuck me baby—please.”
Sawyer moaned. “God you sound so good when you bed, baby.”
She pressed in slowly, letting me feel it, inch by inch, her fingers sliding inside me as a broken sound tore from my throat. My body jolted, back arching as the stretch hit—sharp, perfect, overwhelming.
“God—baby—fuck,” I cried, hoarse, my head tipping back as my eyes fluttered shut.
She didn’t stop.
She put her mouth back on me, sucking my clit deep and consuming, pulling a broken sound from my throat as her hand began to move—slow at first, curling her fingers just right, like she was learning me in real time and getting it right anyway.
“God… you taste so good,” Sawyer whispered.
The words alone made my hips jerk.
She kissed her way back up my body, slow and deliberate, her fingers never stopping, still working inside me as she moved—over my stomach, my ribs—until she was above me again.
“Look at me.”
It took effort, but I forced my eyes open.
Found her right there—dark hair wild, lips swollen from kissing me, her gaze locked on mine like she wasn’t letting me go anywhere.
“Good girl,” she said softly, her rhythm picking up. “You feel so good around my fingers.”
The praise wrecked me. I gasped, hips meeting every thrust, chasing her without thinking. “Don’t stop. Don’t—oh my God—”
Sawyer kissed me through it, her mouth moving over mine, my jaw, down my neck, as the tension built fast—too fast—my whole body tightening around her hand.
“Stay with me,” she murmured, her voice low, steady. “Don’t chase it. Just feel.”
I tried. God, I tried. But my body didn’t care about patience. The pressure was already there, building fast, my hips lifting instinctively, chasing her hand.
“Easy,” Sawyer said softly, and then… she slowed.
Not completely, just enough. Her fingers easing back, her thumb still there but not quite where I needed it, keeping me right on the edge, my breath catching hard in my throat.
“Baby, please—please” My hips lifted trying to get the friction back.
“No,” she murmured when I tried to follow it. “Not yet.”
“Please—” I gasped, my hands tightening in her hair, trying to pull her back where I needed her.
She didn’t let me. She kissed me instead—slow, grounding—while her hand kept moving in that same slow, deliberate rhythm, holding me there, stretched tight and aching.
“Feel it,” she whispered against my mouth. “Stay right here with me.”