43. Tyler #2
I spend the next hour dismantling her defense by defense. I’m not just touching her; I’m investigating. I want to know the exact sound she makes when I trail my thumbs along the inside of her hip bones. I want to feel the way her pulse jumps in her throat when I bite the curve of her waist.
I drag my mouth down her stomach, my beard grazing her skin, a friction she seems to crave. When I finally reach the lace of her underwear, I don’t pull them off yet. I breathe against the fabric, watching her hips tilt up, begging for the contact.
“Please, Ty. Please.”
“Not yet, baby. We’re doing this right.”
I hook my fingers in the lace and slide them down. The sight of her—damp, flushed, and completely open for me—is a religious experience. I spread her legs wider, hooking her knees over my shoulders so I can see every bit of her. I want to see the way she reacts when I finally put my mouth on her.
I start at the very top of her inner thigh, right where the skin is like silk, and work my way in.
When my tongue finally finds her, she lets out a sob that hits me right in the gut.
I’m slow. I’m deliberate. I circle her clit, rhythmic and relentless, until she’s bucking against my face, her fingers tangling in my hair to hold me there.
I add a finger, then two, stretching her, feeling the incredible, pulsing heat of her clenching around me. She tastes like vanilla and sweat and victory. I work her until she’s mindless, until she’s screaming my name into the quiet room, her body shattering under the pressure of my mouth.
I don't pull away until the last tremor has left her. I crawl up her body, pinning her wrists gently above her head, looking down at the beautiful wreck I’ve made.
“You good to go again?” I ask, my voice dropping an octave into that gravelly range that I know makes her knees weak.
She doesn't answer with words. She pulls one hand free and cups my jaw, her thumb brushing over my bottom lip, catching the moisture there—the proof of what I just did to her.
My heart hammers, but then she does it. She slides that thumb slowly into her own mouth, sucking it clean while her eyes lock onto mine, dark and challenging.
A high, broken whimper escapes my throat. It’s a sound I didn't even know I could make—a raw, vulnerable noise that makes me feel like I’ve been hollowed out.
“Tyler?” she whispers, her voice thick with wonder. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you make that noise before.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, Red,” I groan, my forehead dropping to hers. “You doing that… fuck. I’m hanging by a thread here. I’m seconds away from losing every bit of my composure.”
“Then lose it,” she begs, her hips tilting up, searching for the hard line of me. “Break the thread, Ty. I love you. I want all of you.”
I can’t take it anymore. I line myself up and push inside her in one slow, tectonic thrust. The sensation is overwhelming—a physical manifestation of coming home. She’s tighter this time, more sensitive from her orgasm, wrapping around me like she’s trying to pull me into her very soul.
“You feel incredible,” I manage to choke out, my eyes closing as I savor the clench of her. “Even better than I remembered. How is that even possible?”
“Move,” she begs, her legs wrapping around my waist, locking me in. “Please, Ty. I need you to move.”
I do. I start with slow, punishingly deep strokes, pulling nearly all the way out before driving back in until I hit her cervix.
I want her to feel every ridge, every inch of how much space I’m taking up.
I watch her face—every flicker of her eyelids, the way her lips part as she tries to catch her breath.
“This is what I wanted last time,” I murmur against her ear, my breath hot and ragged. “To feel every inch of you taking me. To watch you fall apart slowly instead of fast. To know that when we’re done, you’re still going to be right here. You’re never leaving this bed, Red.”
“Harder,” she gasps, her nails marking my shoulders, drawing blood I don't even feel. “You don't have to be gentle, Tyler. I can take it. I want you to lose control.”
“You want the rough version of me?” I pick up the pace, my movements turning primal.
I grab her hips, anchoring her as I drive into her with a force that has the headboard knocking a frantic rhythm against the wall.
“You want to feel how much I’ve been starving for this?
How many nights I spent thinking about this exact moment while I was miles away from you? ”
“Please…more. Tyler, please—”
I drive into her, harder and faster, the friction building until I’m seeing stars. Every time I thrust inside her, she lets out a small, broken sound that fuels the fire in my gut. I’m losing it. My vision is tunneling until all that exists is the heat of her.
“Touch yourself,” I commanded, my voice raw and demanding. “I want to see you rubbing your clit while I’m inside you. I want to feel you come around my cock properly this time. Show me how much you want me.”
She reaches down, her fingers moving between us, and the sight of her working herself while I’m deep inside her is the final straw. I’m a goner. My muscles are screaming, my brain is short-circuiting, and I can feel the clench of her internal muscles starting to pulse around me.
“That’s it. Come for me, baby. Good girl. Show me how good I make you feel. Tell me who you belong to.”
“You—it’s you, Tyler. Always you.”
She shatters, screaming my name, her body clamping around me so hard I think I might actually snap.
The sheer intensity of her climax pulls me over the edge.
I follow her right after, burying myself as deep as I can go, pouring every bit of love and protection and absolute obsession I have into her.
I come so hard my vision actually goes black for a second.
We stay locked together for a long minute, the only sound the frantic thud of our hearts trying to sync up. I keep my forehead against hers, my eyes closed, just breathing her in.
“I love you,” I whisper into the hollow of her neck once I can find my voice again.
“I love you too.” Her voice is thick with emotion, her eyes shimmering as they meet mine. “I love you, Ty. Don't you ever stop taking your time.”
Afterward, we lie tangled together, sheet half on, half off, Harper's monitor a quiet rhythm between us. Nora's head is on my chest. I can feel her heartbeat through her ribs.
"Better than the laundry room?" she asks with a smile.
"So much better. Don't get me wrong, that was incredible. But this—" I kiss her softly. "This is what I've been dreaming about. Taking our time. No fear. No rushing. Just us."
"Tyler?"
"Yeah."
"This is the best day of my life."
"Yeah," I say. "Mine too."
She falls asleep first, but I lie there a while longer, listening to her breathe.
I think about Emma's voice on Thanksgiving. Let yourself have something good.
I have it.
I have all of it.
The morning after the verdict, I go to practice.