Chapter 36 #2
And she does. She sets a rhythm, me thrusting into her mouth, her taking more and more of me each time, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks.
I can feel the back of her throat, tight and warm, and when I hit a certain spot, she gags.
Instinct makes me pull back, but she shakes her head, her eyes locked on mine, and does it again— fuck— damn near swallowing me whole.
Her eyes water, tears clinging to her lashes, but she doesn’t stop.
“You look so fucking sexy like this,” I pant, my grip tightening in her hair. “Taking me so deep, choking on my cock.”
She moans again and this time I can’t hold back the jerk of my hips. She lets me, her throat relaxing just enough to take it, her tongue working me on every pull back.
There’s something about this version of her that undoes me. The way she takes control like it’s always been hers to have. Confident, focused, not a hint of hesitation in her—like she already knows how thoroughly gone I am for her and she’s just making good on it.
She’s fucking incredible.
I’m close, and she knows it. Her free hand—the one not working my cock—slides lower, cupping my balls with just the right pressure, rolling them between her fingers like she’s testing their weight.
Then her fingers tighten, just a little, just enough to make my breath hitch, and I swear to God, I see stars.
“Wren, I’m gonna come,” I warn, panting. “Do you want it? Do you want me to fill you up?”
She doesn’t answer with words—just takes me all the way down again, her nose pressed against me. She speeds up, her lips slick and tight around me, her hand moving in time with her mouth and that’s it. That’s all it takes.
Pleasure explodes, white-hot and relentless, and I groan her name as I spill down her throat. She swallows every drop, her lips still moving, her tongue still working me through it until I’m shuddering, gasping, ruined.
When I’m finished, she pulls off slowly, her lips swollen and glistening, and looks up at me with a smug little smirk that makes me want to drag her up and kiss her senseless.
“Fuck,” I breathe, still trying to catch my breath. “That was…fuck .”
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes still gleaming, a breathless laugh escaping her. “Yeah?”
I don’t even think—just grab her wrist and pull her up into me, into a kiss that’s messy and deep and far from polite.
My hands frame her face, cradle the curve of her neck, thumbs pressing into her jaw like I need her closer than close.
I can still taste myself on her, but I don’t care.
I want to drown in her mouth, in the way she just undid me, in the way I want her again already.
I’m thinking about the bed. About her. About everything I want to do to her.
But then she pulls back, abrupt and serious, her breath hitching like she’s gearing up for something. “I can’t give you kids, Sawyer.”
The words hit me like a slap I wasn’t expecting. I blink at her, heart still hammering, brain trying to catch up. “I know?”
It comes out more like a question than I mean it to. Because I do. I do know that. So why does it feel like she’s just told me something brand new?
She presses her lips together, and then her voice drops. “No, I mean…in the future. If we ever get that far. If we decide to actually build something real—I can’t give you kids. And I don’t want you to look at me ten years from now and hate me for it. I don’t want to be the woman you settled for.”
She’s nervous. I can hear it in the speed of her words, the way her hands fidget between us. It’s her tell.
“Wren,” I say gently, reaching for her face again, grounding her. “You’re all I want. Babies or no babies.”
Her mouth pulls into a soft pout, her brow furrowed. “You only say that now because I just gave you the best blowjob of your life.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.
She frowns. “I’m serious.”
“Me too. It was the best blowjob of my life.”
Her eyes narrow into little slits. “You know what I mean.”
I do. And I look at her—really look—and there’s fear there. Not of me, not of us right now. But of the future. Of letting herself want something she doesn’t think she’s allowed to have.
I smooth my thumb across her cheekbone. “I don’t love you for your uterus, Wren. Or lack of one.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, cautious. Still not fully believing.
“I love you because you’re the strongest, kindest, most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. You walk into a room and I swear to God I breathe easier just having you in it. You make me laugh. You make my whole life better, every single day.”
She looks up at me with those wide, glassy eyes like she’s waiting for me to take it back. Waiting for the part where I change my mind.
So I give her more.
“I honestly don’t even know if I want kids anymore either,” I say quietly. “That version of my life—the one where I’m a dad with a little girl—got buried with Violet. I don’t think I’ve let myself picture anything past that since.”
Her lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting that.
I swallow hard, my thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.
“But if my future looks like this? You and me brushing our teeth together at night, tripping over Hank, figuring out how to make each other laugh when we’re tired—if it’s just that, Wren…
then that’s more than enough for me. That’s everything.
That’s more than I ever thought I would get again in this life. ”
Her throat works around a swallow.
“I don’t care that biology handed you a shitty hand. I’m not in this for what I can get out of you. I’m in this because you’re the first thing that’s felt like home for me in a long, long time. You could have zero reproductive organs and I’d still wake up tomorrow loving the hell out of you.”
I take a breath, letting that settle.
“Kids or no kids, uterus or no uterus—you’re it for me, Wren. End of story.”
Her face crumples just a little, just enough for me to know I hit the spot that hurt. I lean in and kiss her forehead, gentle and quiet, like I’m sealing a promise I don’t plan on ever backing out of.
“You don’t have to be anything but you,” I whisper.
“You love me?” she whispers.
It hits me then—I hadn’t even realized I’d said it.
But it doesn’t surprise me either. That’s how natural it feels. Like breathing. Like existing next to her this long made it inevitable.
I nod, brushing my thumb under one eye again, then the other. “Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
She doesn’t say anything at first, just blinks up at me with those glassy, blue-on-blue eyes like the whole world’s shifting under her feet.
I shake my head a little, smiling softly.
“I should’ve planned it better. Lit a bunch of candles or said it while we were slow dancing or put rose petals on the bed or something.
But Wren—” My voice breaks a little. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now.
Not because of what just happened or what you said. It’s just…you.”
I step closer, taking her hands in mine.
“You’re the one I wait to come home to, even when we’re in the same place. You’re the one I find in every room without even trying. And I keep coming back to you because nothing in me knows how not to.”
Her lips part like she’s about to say something, but I keep going because I need her to hear this—need her to know.
“You feel like comfort, and fire, and peace all at once. And if I ever make anything good out of the mess I’ve lived through, it’ll be because of you. Because you make me better.”
I swallow, my breathing shallow.
“I don’t just love you, Wren. I love who I am when I’m with you. I want to keep showing up for you. I want to keep choosing you. I want to keep being chosen by you.”
She lets out this tiny sound—half-laugh, half-sob—and presses her hand to my chest.
I cover it with mine. “You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know. This—what I feel for you—it’s not going anywhere.”
Wren wipes under her eyes with the back of her hand, then laughs—quiet and watery—like she’s trying to get her shit together and not quite succeeding.
“I don’t really like many people.” Her eyes flicking up to mine and then away.
“I think most of them are exhausting, or careless, or a little too loud in all the wrong ways. But I love you. I love that you talk to your dog. I love that you keep your promises. I love that you’re kind, and that you believe that everyone is deserving of that kindness that you carry around so easily. ”
She smiles gently, her hand brushing mine.
“I love you in a way that makes me want to stay,” she says. “And that scares the hell out of me—because I don’t know what it means to keep someone. I’ve never wanted to before. But I think I might want to keep you forever.”
I’m not sure if it’s possible to feel your heart break and heal in the same second, but that’s what it feels like. Something shattering open and rebuilding all at once.
I lean in and press my forehead against hers. “Then I hope you figure it out. Because I’d let you keep me, Wren. For as long as you want.”
And I think maybe that’s the moment she starts to believe me. Really believe me.
Because she closes the distance between us. Not just with her lips—but with everything else, too.