Chapter 13 #2
I pressed in, parting her inch by thick inch, feeling every velvet ripple as her walls stretched around me, hot and slick and so fucking tight it made my vision blur.
She sighed—long, broken, filthy—and tilted her hips up to take me deeper, meeting every lazy thrust with a perfect roll that sucked me in further.
Deeper than we’d ever gone. So deep I felt the soft mouth of her cervix kiss the tip of me, and we both groaned like the sound had been ripped from somewhere sacred.
Our eyes locked. Hers glassy, pupils blown wide. Mine probably the same. Something cracked open between us—raw, terrifying, tender. Like our souls had tangled in the dark and refused to let go.
We moved like that forever. Slow, rolling thrusts that dragged every ridge of my cock along her inner walls.
Her pussy fluttered and clenched, milking me with every withdrawal, greedy for the next deep glide back in.
I ground against her clit in lazy circles on every downstroke, feeling her thighs tremble, feeling her nails dig crescent moons into my shoulders.
She whispered my name once—Ethan—like a prayer, like a curse, like she was drowning in it.
I kissed her throat, sucked the pulse point until she whimpered. Licked the sweat from the hollow of her collarbone. Nipped the soft swell of her breast, then soothed it with my tongue. Every movement deliberate. Every touch worshipful and obscene.
The heat built like a slow fuse. Her breaths fractured into little gasps.
Her heels dug into my ass, urging me impossibly deeper.
I felt her start to quiver inside—those tiny, helpless flutters that always wrecked me—and I didn’t speed up.
I just sank slower, harder, grinding my pelvis against her clit until her back bowed off the mattress and a low, keening moan tore from her throat.
I came like a dam breaking in slow motion.
Long, thick pulses spilling deep inside her—bare, hot, claiming—for the first time.
No rubber. No anger. Just raw, pulsing release flooding her, painting her walls while she clenched and shuddered around me, her own orgasm rolling through her in heavy, liquid waves.
She milked every drop, hips rocking in tiny, greedy circles, drawing it out until we were both trembling, oversensitive, fused together.
Afterward, she hooked her leg over my thigh, ankle locking behind my knee like she’d never let me pull out.
Her pussy still fluttered faintly around my softening cock, keeping me inside her, warm and messy and perfect.
I traced her spine with lazy fingers, feeling her shiver even though we were both slick with sweat.
Lying there, her heartbeat thundering against my chest, I understood something that dropped like lead in my gut.
If it had only been the crazy—the fights, the chaos, the way we used to tear each other apart—I could’ve walked away.
If it had only been the sex—brutal, addictive, apocalyptic—I could’ve told myself it was just bodies.
But this?
This slow, filthy tenderness.
This quiet heat that burned cleaner and hotter than any fight-fuck ever could.
This version of her—soft, open, dripping with me—that let me stay buried inside her like I belonged there—
I was fucked.
Utterly, soul-deep fucked.
And I never wanted to be anything else.
My phone started vibrating against the counter while I was rinsing a plate.
Not ringing.
Vibrating hard enough to skitter toward the sink.
Sage glanced up from the stove. “You gonna get that, or are we pretending it doesn’t exist?”
I checked the screen.
Tony.
At night, Tony never called unless something was on fire.
I answered. “What happened?”
“We’re fucked.”
No hello. No warm-up.
Just fucked.
I dried my hands slowly. “Define fucked.”
“You remember the Fourth,” he said. “Boston Marina. I chartered out the Grady White for the weekend to make some quick cash?”
“Yeah?” I replied slowly.
“I never told my uncle I was using my fishing boat and slip as a side hustle in his marina…”
My stomach dipped. “Fuck.”
“One of the guys—got hammered. Fell off the dock. Cracked his head on the outboard. Almost drowned.”
“Jesus. Is he—”
“He’s alive,” Tony said. “Which is apparently worse.”
I leaned against the counter.
“Some asshole had a GoPro,” he went on. “Whole thing’s on camera. It’s already circulating. Insurance is involved. Lawyers are sniffing around. It’s gonna hit the news cycle by tomorrow.”
Of course it was.
Fourth of July weekend. Boats. Booze. Rich idiots. I was already trying to forget the bad parts of mine.
“It wasn’t even our fault,” Tony said, defensive. “He was drinking for hours. Broke the contract he signed.But you know how this goes. Somebody gets hurt and suddenly everybody’s liable.”
“Who’s suing?” I asked.
“Everyone with a pulse,” he said. “The dude. His traumatized girlfriend. The owner of the slip next to theirs— the ambulance chasing attorney is already circling. I’ve got a meeting with my uncle tonight. If you don’t hear from me again—they dumped my body in the harbor.”
“Fuck, Tony. You really fucked this one up. And you don’t even need extra money.”
Behind me, Sage had gone very still.
She wasn’t pretending not to listen.
She was tracking.
“Put him on speaker,” she said quietly.
I covered the phone. “Sage—”
“Speaker.”
Something about her tone made it not a request.
I hit the button.
“Hey, Tony,” I said. “You’re on with Sage.”
There was a pause.
“Oh—uh—hey,” Tony said.
“Hi, Tony,” she said calmly. “Which carrier?”
“What?”
“Insurance,” she said. “Who’s underwriting the marina?”
He told her.
She nodded like she already knew.
“And who’s representing you?”
“Some outside firm. Two guys. Corporate liability or something. I’m not exactly sure. My uncle is pissed at me right now.”
“What time is your meeting tomorrow?”
“Nine.”
“Hang tight, Tony. I’ve git this.”
Tony muttered a string of curses half in Italian and English.
“Sage—don’t please. My family s already angry enough.”
She looks hurt for a split second before ending me back the phone.
“Call me after you see your uncle so I know he didn’t deep six you.”
Tony snorted. The call disconnected.
Sage opened her laptop starting clicking around.
Then she reached for her bag.
I blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Making calls.”
“To who?”
She looked at me like it was obvious. “Everyone.”
She stepped into the hallway and started dialing.
Not frantic.
Not emotional.
Clinical.
One call to someone at her firm.
One to someone at the carrier.
One to a name I didn’t recognize.
Short conversations. Legal language. Calm.
When she came back in, she was already putting on heels.
“I’m going tomorrow,” she said.
“To what?”
“The meeting.”
“Sage—don’t.”
“This is what I do,” she said.
I went to bed. She was in full war zone mode. Researching asking me to get Tony to email her the charter contract and all video footage.
He was in deep shit and even though it was Sage—he complied.
She worked all night.
“Babe, come to bed,” I muttered as she sat at my desk, the glow of her laptop screen the only light in the room.
“Shhh, I’m working.”
I swallowed. Lump in my throat. Sage was a lot of things—loyal being one of them. Protective, too. I was impressed I’d never seen her self absolved in work mode. Business Sage was a pro.
I woke up just as she was slipping on her heels. Dressed in a power business skirt suit, simple pearl earrings in and muted makeup she looked like a shark.
“Go give ’em hell babe. I didn’t tel Tony you were going.”
“It’s fine. The element of surprise will work in my favor. I’ll call you after.” Her lips pressed mine quickly before she left in a cloud of light perfumer and power.
Tony called me two hours later. I was already clearing my inbox and scheduling meetings.
Sounded like he’d just run a mile.
“Yo,” he said. “You will not believe this.”
My chest tightened. “What happened?”
“Your girl,” he said. “Just walked into that meeting like she owned the building.”
I sat back in my desk chair. The office buzzed around me as I pictured it.
“She didn’t introduce herself as anything,” he went on. “Didn’t say she was counsel. Didn’t say she wasn’t. Just shook hands and sat down like she belonged there.”
I pictured it instantly.
Sage at the end of a table. Calm. Watching.
“She starts talking,” Tony said, “and suddenly she’s quoting statutes. Liability exposure. Negligence thresholds. Case law. Stuff their actual attorneys hadn’t even mentioned yet.”
I let out a breath.
“She never threatened anybody,” he added. “Didn’t have to. She just laid out what would happen if this turned into litigation. Who’d bleed first. How ugly discovery would get. How fast the press would eat it.”
He laughed. Nervous. Awed.
“Man… before you knew it, the insurance guys were backing off. Talking settlements. Small ones. Quiet ones. Like they suddenly didn’t want any part of this.”
“She didn’t say she was a licensed lawyer,” he said. “But everybody assumed she was. No one questioned it. Even the attorneys were like—” he exhaled — “shit.”
A pause.
“We were all quivering in our boots by the time she left.”
I stared at the wall.
“She just… owned it,” he said. “Walked in, rearranged the room, walked out.”
He let out a low whistle.
“Not gonna lie, man. Your girl’s terrifying. By the time my uncle’s attorneys showed up— it was already give us a check and this goes away—time. Small money too like thirty k. She saved my ass—dude. I owe Sage. Big time.”
Sage came over that night like nothing had happened.
Kissed my cheek. Set the food on the counter. Asked if I wanted noodles or rice.
Normal.
Soft.
Domestic.
Like she hadn’t just strong-armed a persona injury attorney into submission.
“Tony is very grateful by the way,” I took her into my arms, kissed her onto of her head and then grabbed her a plate.
“This is good,” she said lightly, munching on a noodle. “It shouldn’t go anywhere. Maybe a small settlement. Nothing public.”
Like she’d just rescheduled a dentist appointment.
I watched her move around my kitchen and felt two completely opposite things at the same time.
Relief.
And something else.
Because this was what it felt like to have someone who could fix anything.
But it was also what it felt like to realize—
If she ever turned that same force on me…
I wouldn’t stand a chance.