Chapter One: Strands of Impulse

The late afternoon sun slanted through the large front windows of Shear Brilliance, casting long streaks of gold across the polished wooden floors. The salon hummed with quiet energy—soft indie music played from the overhead speakers, the occasional snip of scissors, and the low murmur of stylists chatting with their clients. Aurora stood behind the reception desk, her fingers tapping absently against the counter as she flipped through the day’s remaining appointments. The scent of lavender and citrus from the salon’s signature shampoo lingered in the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of hairspray.

She glanced up when the bell above the door chimed, her hazel eyes flicking to the figure stepping inside. A man—tall, lean, with the kind of effortless confidence that made the room feel smaller. His brown hair was slightly tousled, falling just above his shoulders in a way that suggested he either didn’t care about styling it or had spent too much time running his hands through it. A worn leather jacket hugged his frame, the sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms dusted with faint freckles, and his skin held the kind of sun-kissed glow that came from late nights under stage lights rather than days at the beach. Aurora’s breath hitched, just for a second, before she smoothed her expression into her usual professional warmth.

“Welcome to Shear Brilliance,” she said, her voice steady despite the unexpected flutter in her chest. “Do you have an appointment?”

The man grinned, and it was the kind of grin that made something low in her stomach tighten—all teeth and mischief, like he was already in on a joke she hadn’t heard yet. “Robbie Carter,” he said, his voice rough around the edges, the kind of voice that belonged to someone who spent too much time singing over loud music. “I’ve got a 4:30 with…” He squinted at the appointment reminder on his phone. “Aurora?”

She blinked, then laughed softly, shaking her head. “That’s me. You’re right on time.” She gestured toward the row of styling chairs. “Take a seat wherever you’d like. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, whiskey?” The last was a joke, but his eyebrows lifted in consideration.

“Whiskey might make this more interesting,” he mused, then chuckled when she raised a brow. “Kidding. Water’s fine.”

Aurora grabbed a bottle from the mini-fridge behind the desk and handed it to him as he settled into her chair—the one nearest the window, where the light was best. She draped a cape around his shoulders, her fingers brushing the nape of his neck as she fastened it. His skin was warm, and she could smell the faintest hint of leather and something woodsy, like cedar or sandalwood. It was a good scent. Dangerous, in a way that made her want to lean in just a little closer.

“So, Robbie,” she said, stepping back to assess him in the mirror. His reflection met hers, those blue eyes of his sharp and assessing in a way that made her hyper-aware of her own appearance. Her blue hair was swept into a loose half-up style today, a few tendrils framing her face, and she suddenly wondered if the color looked ridiculous. If it was too much. “What are we doing today?”

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further. “Honestly? No idea. I just know it’s been too long since I’ve had it cut, and I’m sick of looking like a guy who got lost on his way to a grunge revival concert.”

Aurora laughed, the sound genuine and bright. “Well, we can’t have that.” She tilted her head, studying him. “You’ve got good texture. We could clean up the length, add some layers to give it movement. Or go shorter, if you’re feeling bold.”

Robbie’s gaze flicked to her hair, then back to her eyes in the mirror. “What made you go blue?”

The question caught her off guard, not because it was unusual—clients asked about her hair all the time—but because of the way he asked it. Like he actually wanted to know. Like the answer mattered.

Aurora reached up, twisting a strand around her finger. “I needed a change. After my divorce, everything felt… gray. Dull. My kids were with their dad for the weekend, and I walked into the salon where I used to work, pointed at the brightest color on the chart, and said, ‘That one.’” She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “It was impulsive. But I liked it. Felt like me, somehow.”

Robbie was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled, slow and warm. “It suits you.”

The words settled into her chest like a held breath. “Thanks,” she murmured, then cleared her throat, forcing herself back into professional mode. “Alright, let’s get you washed up. You want layers?”

“Sure,” he said easily, standing when she gestured toward the shampoo bowls. “Lead the way.”

The back of the salon was quieter, the sound of running water and the low hum of dryers muffling the rest of the world. Aurora adjusted the chair, guiding Robbie to lean back into the bowl. His neck was long, the tendons shifting as he settled in, and she tried not to stare at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. She tested the water temperature with her wrist before wetting his hair, her fingers working through the strands.

“You’ve got great hair,” she commented, massaging his scalp. His eyes fluttered closed, a soft groan escaping his lips.

“God, that feels good,” he murmured.

Aurora’s stomach flipped. She focused on the task, lathering shampoo into his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp. “You play music, right?” The question slipped out before she could stop it. His hands—long-fingered, calloused—gave him away. Guitarist, probably.

Robbie cracked one eye open, smirking. “How’d you guess?”

“Callouses,” she said, rinsing the suds away. “And the way you carry yourself. Like you’re used to being watched.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under her palms. “Guilty. Lead guitarist for The Velvet Hounds. Ever heard of us?”

She had, actually. They were a local band gaining traction, playing dive bars and small venues around the city. She’d seen their posters plastered on telephone poles near the salon. “I’ve seen your name around,” she admitted, squeezing the excess water from his hair with a towel. “You any good?”

Robbie sat up, grinning. “Come to a show and find out.”

The invitation hung between them, light but loaded. Aurora busied herself with combing out his damp hair, her pulse thrumming in her wrists. “I don’t get out much,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Kids, you know?”

“Bring ’em,” he said easily, like it was the most obvious solution in the world. “We’re playing at The Iron Horse next Friday. It’s all-ages until 9. Plenty of families come out.”

Aurora met his gaze in the mirror, her fingers stalling mid-section. He wasn’t just being polite. He meant it. The realization sent a warmth through her that had nothing to do with the salon’s heating system.

She exhaled, forcing a laugh. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He turned slightly in the chair, his knee brushing against her thigh. The contact was accidental, fleeting, but it sent a jolt through her anyway. “I’ll even put you on the guest list. Skip the cover charge.”

Aurora shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You don’t even know if I’ll like your music.”

Robbie’s grin turned wicked. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to marry me. Just come to a show. If you hate it, you never have to talk to me again.”

She should’ve said no. Should’ve made up some excuse about being too busy, about not having a babysitter, about anything. But the way he was looking at her—like she was interesting, like she was worth his time—made her want to say yes. Made her want to be the kind of woman who went to concerts on a Friday night instead of microwave dinners and PAW Patrol reruns.

“Fine,” she said, snipping the first section of his hair with more force than necessary. “But if my kids start headbanging to your music, I’m blaming you.”

Robbie threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. “Deal.”

They fell into an easy rhythm after that, the kind of conversation that flowed without effort. He told her about the band—how they’d started in a garage three years ago, how they’d just finished recording their first EP, how they were hoping to book a summer tour. She told him about the salon, about her dreams of opening her own place someday, about the chaos of raising two kids alone.

“They’re six and eight,” she said, spraying a section of his hair with water before twisting it around her finger to cut. “A handful, but the best kind.”

“What’s their names?”

“Lila and Noah.” She smiled at the mention of them, her chest tightening with the familiar ache of missing them. They were with their dad this weekend, a rare overnight visit that left the house too quiet. “Lila’s obsessed with unicorns. Noah’s all about dinosaurs and dirt bikes.”

Robbie grinned. “So, a future groupie and a future rockstar. You’re raising them right.”

Aurora laughed, the sound mingling with the snip of her shears. She worked methodically, shaping his hair into something sleek but still effortlessly cool—layers that would frame his face, texture that would hold even after a night of sweating under stage lights. Her fingers brushed against his ear as she trimmed around it, and he went still, his breath hitching just slightly.

“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling back.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice low. “I like your hands in my hair.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed, forcing her focus back to the task. “Almost done,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Just need to dry it.”

Robbie watched her as she reached for the blow dryer, his gaze tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. “You’re good at this,” he said.

Aurora met his eyes, holding them. “I am.”

The dryer roared to life between them, the heat blowing the silence into something heavier. She worked quickly, her fingers shaping his hair with practiced ease. When she was finished, she turned off the dryer and stepped back, admiring her work.

“There,” she said, turning the chair so he could see. “What do you think?”

Robbie studied his reflection, running a hand through the layers. The cut suited him—sharp but not too polished, the kind of style that looked like it belonged on a stage. He smiled, slow and satisfied. “I look like a rockstar.”

Aurora rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You are a rockstar.”

“Yeah, but now I look like one who’s got his shit together.” He stood, shrugging off the cape, and pulled out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

She waved him off. “On the house. Consider it a trade for the concert tickets.”

Robbie raised a brow. “You sure?”

“Positive.” She walked him to the front, her heels clicking softly against the floor. The salon was quieter now, the evening rush not yet in full swing. The golden light from the windows painted them both in warm hues, making Robbie’s eyes look even bluer, his smile even brighter.

He lingered by the door, his hand on the handle but not turning it. “So,” he said, “next Friday. The Iron Horse. 8 o’clock.”

Aurora nodded, her heart pounding. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” He hesitated, then reached out, brushing a strand of her blue hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm, calloused, and the touch sent a spark through her that settled somewhere deep in her belly. “See you then, Aurora.”

And then he was gone, the bell chiming softly in his wake.

Aurora stood there for a long moment, her hand pressed to her chest like she could slow the racing of her heart. The salon felt different now—brighter, somehow. Or maybe that was just her.

She turned back to the mirror behind the reception desk, studying her reflection. Her blue hair caught the light, vibrant and unapologetic. She looked like herself. Like the version of herself she’d almost forgotten existed.

And for the first time in a long time, she couldn’t wait to see what came next.

Chapter Two: Electric Touch, Burning Ember

The dim glow of the neon sign outside The Iron Horse cast a warm amber hue over the sidewalk as Aurora adjusted the strap of her crossbody bag, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of the zipper. She had arrived earlier than she’d planned—partly to secure a good spot near the stage, partly because she hadn’t been able to shake the restless energy humming under her skin since Robbie had left her salon. The memory of his fingers tucking that stray lock of blue hair behind her ear still sent a shiver down her spine, the ghost of his touch lingering like a promise.

Inside, the bar was already alive with the low thrum of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses. The air smelled of aged wood, spilled beer, and something faintly electric—the kind of scent that clung to places where music was about to happen. Aurora scanned the room, her gaze snagging on the stage where a lone figure stood under the harsh white of the work lights, his silhouette sharp against the dark backdrop. Robbie.

He was already mid-song, his body swaying slightly as his fingers moved with practiced ease over the strings of his guitar. The sound was raw, unfiltered—no polished studio sheen, just the gritty, unapologetic growl of an electric guitar being played by someone who knew exactly what he was doing. His leather jacket was slung over the back of a stool, leaving him in just a faded Black Keys tee that clung to the lean muscles of his arms. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing the intricate ink that snaked up his forearms, the tendons flexing with every chord.

Aurora found herself frozen just inside the door, her breath catching in her throat. This was different from the man who had sat in her chair, all easy smiles and lazy charm. This Robbie was all sharp edges and restless energy, his jaw set in concentration, his brow furrowed just slightly as he leaned into the music. The way his fingers danced over the frets—fast, precise, almost violent in their intensity—made her stomach clench. She could feel the vibration of the notes in her chest, like a second heartbeat.

She didn’t realize she was biting her lower lip until she tasted the faint metallic tang of her lip gloss. God, he’s good.

As if sensing her presence, Robbie’s head lifted, his gaze cutting through the haze of the bar like a blade. Their eyes locked. For a single, suspended moment, the noise of the room faded into nothingness, leaving only the hum of the amp and the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Then, slow and deliberate, he winked.

Aurora’s face flushed, heat flooding her cheeks. She should’ve looked away. Should’ve played it cool. But she couldn’t. Not when he was looking at her like that—like she was the only person in the room, like he’d been waiting for her to walk in.

He didn’t break eye contact as he leaned into the mic, his voice rough and warm, cutting through the instrumental with effortless confidence. “This next one’s for the woman with the hair that matches her soul.” His lips curved into that same smirk she’d seen in the salon, but this time it was sharper, hungrier. “Hope you’re listening, Aurora.”

A chorus of wolf whistles and catcalls erupted from the scattered early arrivals, but Aurora barely heard them. Her name on his lips—his lips, the ones she’d been fantasizing about since he’d walked out of her salon—sent a jolt straight between her thighs. She pressed her legs together, suddenly hyper-aware of the damp heat pooling in her lace panties. Fuck. She wasn’t some blushing teenager. She was a grown woman, a mother, a professional. But right now, under the weight of his gaze, she felt like none of those things. She felt wanted. And it had been so damn long since anyone had made her feel that way.

Aurora forced herself to move, her boots clicking against the sticky floor as she made her way toward the bar. She needed a drink. Needed something to cool the fire licking up her spine. The bartender, a burly guy with a salt-and-pepper beard, slid a cocktail napkin in front of her before she even had to ask. “Usual for you, sweetheart?”

She blinked. “I—uh, I don’t have a usual.”

He chuckled, wiping down a glass with a rag. “First timer, huh? You here for the band?”

Aurora glanced back at the stage. Robbie had launched into the song proper now, his voice a low, smoky growl that wrapped around her like a physical touch. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the music. “I know the guitarist.”

The bartender’s eyebrows shot up. “No shit? Robbie’s a good guy. Little too pretty for his own damn good, but he’s got talent.” He jerked his chin toward the shelves of liquor behind him. “What’ll it be? First round’s on the house if you’re a friend of the band.”

Aurora hesitated. She wasn’t much of a drinker—a glass of wine after the kids were in bed, maybe—but tonight felt different. Tonight felt like the kind of night that called for something stronger. “Whiskey sour,” she said, surprising herself. “Make it a double.”

The bartender grinned. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

Aurora turned back to the stage, her fingers tightening around the edge of the bar as Robbie hit a particularly dirty riff, his hips rolling in time with the rhythm. The way his jeans hugged his ass should’ve been illegal. She took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady herself, but it was useless. Every note, every movement, was designed to unravel her. And it was working.

She didn’t notice the drink being set in front of her until the bartender cleared his throat. “You okay there, darlin’? You look like you’re about two seconds from spontaneous combustion.”

Aurora snatched up the glass and downed half of it in one go, the burn of the whiskey grounding her. “I’m fine,” she lied, her voice husky. The alcohol hit her system fast, warming her from the inside out, loosening the knot of tension in her shoulders. Or maybe that was just the effect Robbie was having on her.

On stage, he was in full swing now, his body moving with the music like it was part of him. Sweat glistened at his hairline, dampening the strands of brown hair that had fallen into his eyes. He shook his head, sending them flying, and Aurora’s breath hitched as his gaze found hers again. This time, there was no wink. No smirk. Just pure, unfiltered heat, like he was imagining all the things he wanted to do to her.

And God, she wanted to let him.

The song ended on a screech of feedback, and Robbie laughed, breathless, into the mic. “Alright, you sick fucks, that’s all the free shit you’re getting. Show starts in thirty—better get your drinks now.” He unplugged his guitar and slung it over his shoulder, then hopped off the stage with the easy grace of a man who knew exactly how good he looked doing it.

Aurora’s pulse spiked as he made a beeline for her, his boots thudding against the floor. She should’ve been prepared. Should’ve had some clever remark ready. But the second he was in front of her, close enough that she could smell the leather and sweat and something faintly citrusy—his cologne, maybe—her brain short-circuited.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rough from singing. He braced his hands on the bar on either side of her, caging her in. Not touching, but close. So close she could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the way his pupils were blown just a little too wide. “Glad you made it.”

Aurora swallowed hard. “I said I would.”

“Yeah, but people say a lot of things.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered there. “Didn’t figure you for the type to back out, though.”

She should’ve been offended. Should’ve told him she wasn’t some flaky groupie. But the way he was looking at her—like he was already imagining how her lips would taste—made her bold. “And what type is that?”

Robbie leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “The type who runs when things get interesting.”

Aurora’s nipples tightened under her top, the lace of her bra suddenly too rough against her skin. She turned her head just enough that their lips were a whisper apart. “Who says I’m running?”

His chuckle was dark, sending a shiver down her spine. “Good answer.” He pulled back just far enough to flag down the bartender. “Hey, Mike, get my girl another drink.”

*The possessiveness of it—my girl—should’ve annoyed her. But it didn’t. It sent a thrill through her, sharp and sweet. She wasn’t his, not really. But the way he said it made her wish she was.

Mike slid a fresh whiskey sour in front of her, and Robbie clinked his beer bottle against the rim of her glass. “To new friends.”

Aurora arched an eyebrow. “Is that what we are?”

“What else would we be?” His grin was all innocence, but his eyes burned with something far dirtier.

She took a sip of her drink, letting the silence stretch between them. The bar was filling up now, the hum of conversation growing louder, but it felt like they were in their own little bubble. “I don’t know, Robbie. You tell me.”

He set his beer down and turned to face her fully, his thigh brushing against hers. The contact was accidental—or at least, it should’ve been—but neither of them pulled away. “I think,” he said slowly, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “that we’re two people who know there’s something here. And I think we’d both be idiots to pretend otherwise.”

Aurora’s heart hammered against her ribs. She should’ve played it safe. Should’ve laughed it off, changed the subject. But she was so tired of playing it safe. “And what if I like being an idiot?”

Robbie’s hand found her knee under the bar, his fingers curling around the inside of her thigh, just shy of where she ached for him. “Then I’d say we’re gonna get along just fine.”

Aurora’s breath hitched as his thumb traced slow, maddening circles against the sensitive skin above her knee. She should’ve stopped him. Should’ve reminded him they were in public, that anyone could see. But the way his touch burned through the thin fabric of her leggings made her forget all about should’s. “Robbie,” she warned, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” His fingers inched higher, teasing the hem of her top.

She grabbed his wrist, not to push him away, but to hold him there. To let him know she wanted this. Wanted him. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

His lips brushed the shell of her ear, his voice a rough murmur. “Baby, I live for dangerous.”

The sound that tore from her throat was half laugh, half moan. She was going to hell for this. But right now, with his hand on her thigh and his breath hot against her skin, she didn’t give a damn.

The stage manager’s voice crackled over the PA system. “Five minutes, Carter!”

Robbie groaned, pressing a quick, hard kiss to her temple before pulling back. “Duty calls.” But he didn’t let go of her. Not yet. His fingers flexed against her thigh, his gaze dark with promise. “Stick around after the show. I want to see where this goes.”

Aurora’s pulse was a wild thing, her body thrumming with need. She nodded, because she couldn’t trust herself to speak.

Robbie smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Then, with one last squeeze of her thigh, he stood and sauntered back toward the stage, leaving her breathless and wanting.

Aurora downed the rest of her drink in one go, the burn of the whiskey nothing compared to the fire Robbie had lit inside her.

She was in so much trouble.

And she couldn’t wait.

Chapter Three: Whispers in the Valley

The engine of Robbie’s car hummed softly as he navigated the winding backroads, the city lights fading into a distant glow behind them. Aurora glanced at him, the moonlight casting sharp angles across his jawline, his fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel in time with the low murmur of the radio. She had expected him to suggest drinks at some dimly lit bar, maybe a crowded after-party where his bandmates would slap him on the back and pull her into conversations she’d struggle to follow. But instead, here they were, the open road stretching ahead, the air between them thick with something unspoken.

“You’re quiet,” Robbie said, his voice rough but warm, cutting through the quiet. “Second thoughts?”

Aurora exhaled, her fingers tracing the edge of her crossbody bag where it rested on her lap. “Just not what I expected,” she admitted. “I thought we’d end up somewhere loud. With people.”

Robbie smirked, shifting gears with an easy flick of his wrist. “And you’d rather that?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s easier to hide in a crowd.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Baby, you don’t strike me as the type who likes easy.” His gaze flicked to her, just for a second, but it was enough to send a heat crawling up her neck. “Besides, I didn’t bring you out here to hide.”

The words settled between them, heavy and promising. Aurora turned her head toward the window, watching the trees blur past in the dark. The scent of pine and damp earth seeped through the cracked window, mixing with the faint citrus of Robbie’s cologne—something bright and sharp, like the first bite of an orange. She could still feel the ghost of his touch from earlier, the way his fingers had pressed into her thigh at the bar, possessive and teasing all at once.

“Where are we going?” she asked, though the question felt unnecessary. It didn’t matter. Not really.

Robbie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached over, his fingers brushing against hers where they rested on the seat. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through her, her breath hitching. “Somewhere we won’t be interrupted,” he said finally. “Somewhere we can actually talk.”

Aurora swallowed. Talk. Right. Because that’s what this was about.

The car slowed as Robbie pulled off the main road onto a narrow dirt path, the tires crunching over gravel. The overhang of trees blocked out most of the moonlight at first, but then the path opened up into a clearing—a flat stretch of land overlooking a valley, the city’s distant twinkle like scattered stars below. Robbie killed the engine, and the sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the faint chirp of crickets and the rustle of leaves.

Aurora unbuckled her seatbelt, turning to face him fully. The interior of the car was bathed in silver light, casting everything in sharp relief—the stubble along Robbie’s jaw, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the tense set of his shoulders. He wasn’t looking at her yet. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white.

“This is where you bring all the girls, huh?” she teased, though her voice came out softer than she intended.

Robbie’s laugh was short, almost nervous. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Never brought anyone here.”

The admission hung between them, fragile and honest. Aurora’s chest tightened. She reached out, her fingers hovering over his forearm before finally settling there, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. “Why me?”

He turned then, his blue eyes dark in the low light, but no less intense. “Because you’re the only one who’s ever made me want to.”

The words hit her like a physical force, stealing her breath. Aurora wet her lips, her pulse thrumming in her throat. “Robbie—”

“No,” he cut in, his voice rough. “Let me… just let me say this.” He exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping to where her hand still rested on his arm. “I don’t do this, Aurora. The talking shit. The feeling shit. I’m the guy who shows up, plays a set, gets drunk, and leaves before the sun comes up. But with you—” He broke off, his jaw clenching. “With you, I actually give a damn.”

Aurora’s heart hammered against her ribs. She could see the effort it took for him to say it, the way his fingers twitched against the wheel, like he was fighting the urge to reach for her. “Why?” she whispered.

Robbie’s gaze snapped back to hers, fierce and raw. “Because you see me. Not the guy on stage, not the guy with the guitar, but me. And that’s…” He laughed, bitter and disbelieving. “That’s terrifying, Aurora. You’re terrifying.”

She should’ve pulled back. Should’ve made a joke, lightened the mood. But the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the world worth being afraid of—it undid her. Aurora shifted closer, her knee brushing against his thigh. “You’re not so scary yourself,” she murmured.

Robbie’s breath hitched. His hand left the wheel, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck, his touch hot even through the strands of her hair. “You have no idea,” he said, his voice a growl.

And then he was kissing her.

It wasn’t like the bar—quick, stolen, teasing. This was deep and desperate, his mouth crashing against hers like he’d been starving for it. Aurora gasped into him, her hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in through the fabric of his shirt. He tasted like whiskey and something darker, something that made her head spin. His tongue swept against hers, demanding, and she met him stroke for stroke, her body arching toward him without thought.

Robbie groaned, his free hand sliding down her side, his thumb pressing into the dip of her waist before gripping her hip, pulling her half onto his lap. The steering wheel dug into her back, but she didn’t care, not when his teeth grazed her lower lip, not when his fingers flexed against her ass, dragging her closer. She could feel him hardening beneath her, the ridge of his cock pressing against her thigh, and a whimper tore from her throat.

“Fuck, Aurora,” he breathed against her mouth, his voice ragged. “You drive me out of my goddamn mind.”

She rocked against him, just once, and his grip on her tightened, his fingers biting into her flesh. “Robbie,” she gasped, her hands sliding up into his hair, gripping the messy strands. “We’re in a car.”

“So?” His lips trailed down her jaw, his breath hot against her skin. “You think I give a shit?” His teeth closed around her earlobe, tugging just enough to make her moan, her hips jerking forward involuntarily. “You feel how hard I am for you? How long I’ve been waiting for this?”

Aurora’s head fell back against the seat, her body throbbing with need. His mouth moved down her neck, his tongue swirling over her pulse point before he sucked, hard, marking her. She knew it would leave a bruise. She wanted it to.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below her ear. “Tell me, and I will.”

She should. She should. But the word died on her lips as his hand slid under her shirt, his calloused palm skimming up her ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast. Aurora’s breath stuttered. “Don’t you dare,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper.

Robbie groaned, low and rough, his fingers finally closing over her breast, squeezing just shy of pain. “Fuck, baby,” he rasped, his thumb flicking over her nipple through the lace of her bra. “You’re killing me.”

Aurora arched into his touch, her back bowing off the seat. The pleasure was sharp, almost too much, but she didn’t want him to stop. Couldn’t. Her hands fisted in his shirt, her nails scraping against his chest as his mouth found hers again, his kiss bruising, possessive. She could taste her own arousal on his tongue, could feel the wet heat pooling between her thighs, her panties already damp.

Robbie’s hand left her breast, sliding down her stomach, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her leggings. Aurora broke the kiss with a gasp, her body tensing, but he didn’t stop, his touch feather-light as he traced the line of her hipbone, then lower, his fingertips brushing through the damp curls between her legs.

“Robbie—” His name came out as a plea, her voice trembling.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his lips pressing against her temple. “Just let me touch you, baby. Let me feel you.”

His fingers slid lower, parting her folds, and Aurora’s breath hitched as he found her clit, already swollen and aching. He circled it slowly, his touch maddeningly gentle, and she whimpered, her hips lifting into his hand.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “All for me?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “God, yes.”

His touch grew firmer, his fingers working her in slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb pressing down on her clit just hard enough to make her see stars. Aurora’s mouth fell open, a broken moan spilling from her lips as her body tightened, coiling like a spring. She was so close, so close—

And then he stopped.

Aurora’s eyes flew open, her body trembling with the sudden absence of his touch. “Robbie,” she gasped, her voice desperate.

He was watching her, his eyes dark and hungry, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Not yet,” he said, his voice strained. “I want you to come on my cock, Aurora. Not my fingers.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat through her, her pussy clenching around nothing. She reached for him, her hands fumbling with the button of his jeans, but he caught her wrists, stilling her.

“Not here,” he said, his voice rough. “Not like this.”

Aurora blinked, her mind foggy with need. “Then where?”

Robbie’s grip on her wrists loosened, his thumbs tracing slow circles over her pulse points. “Somewhere I can take my time,” he murmured. “Somewhere I can worship you.”

The promise in his voice made her shiver. She wanted that. Wanted him. But the rational part of her brain—the part that remembered she had kids waiting at home, a life that didn’t involve backseat hookups and whispered promises—tried to surface.

“We should go back,” she said, though her body betrayed her, her hips still rocking subtly, seeking friction.

Robbie’s expression darkened, but he nodded, releasing her wrists. “Yeah,” he agreed, though his voice was tight. “We should.”

But neither of them moved.

The air between them was thick, charged, the weight of what they hadn’t done—what they would do—hanging over them like a storm about to break. Aurora’s gaze dropped to his lips, still glistening from their kisses, and she leaned in, unable to resist. Robbie met her halfway, his mouth crashing against hers once more, his hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer.

This kiss was different—slower, deeper, like they were memorizing each other. Aurora melted into him, her body pressing against his, her breasts flattening against his chest. She could feel his heart hammering, could taste the desperation on his tongue. When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“This isn’t over,” Robbie murmured, his voice a vow.

Aurora swallowed, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I know.”

He kissed her once more, soft and lingering, before pulling back with a groan. “We should go. Before I change my mind.”

Aurora nodded, though her body protested, her skin still buzzing from his touch. She shifted back into her seat, her legs pressing together in an attempt to ease the ache between them. Robbie started the car, the engine roaring to life, but neither of them spoke as he turned the car around, heading back toward the city.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with promise, with the weight of what had been said—and what hadn’t. Aurora glanced at Robbie, his profile sharp in the dim light, his fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel. She could still feel the ghost of his touch between her legs, could still taste him on her tongue.

She knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And for the first time in years, she wasn’t afraid of what came next.

Chapter Four: Passion Explosion

The drive back to Aurora’s place had been a blur of unspoken tension, the air between them thick with the weight of what had almost happened in the car—and what was still to come. The moment they stepped inside, the door barely clicked shut before Robbie’s hands were on her, his mouth crashing against hers with a hunger that left no room for hesitation. Aurora gasped into the kiss, her fingers digging into the fabric of his leather jacket as he backed her against the wall, his body pressing hers flush against the cool surface. There was no more talking, no more teasing—just the raw, desperate need that had been building since the valley.

Clothes became an obstacle, something to be torn away rather than removed with care. Robbie’s jacket hit the floor first, followed by the sound of buttons popping as he yanked his shirt over his head. Aurora’s fingers fumbled with the hem of her top, but he didn’t wait, his hands sliding beneath the fabric to palm her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened under his touch. She arched into him, a breathy moan spilling from her lips as he pinched just hard enough to make her whimper. “Fuck, Robbie—” The words dissolved into a gasp when his teeth grazed her collarbone, his free hand already working at the button of her jeans.

He didn’t bother with finesse. The denim was shoved down her hips, taking her panties with it, leaving her bare and trembling against the wall. Robbie dropped to his knees, his breath hot against her thigh as his fingers traced the slick folds of her pussy. “So fucking wet for me,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. Before she could respond, his tongue was on her, long and slow, dragging from her entrance to her clit with a deliberate slowness that made her legs shake. Aurora’s hands flew to his hair, gripping tight as he worked her, his fingers curling inside her while his mouth sealed over her clit, sucking hard enough to make her see stars.

“Oh god—” Her voice broke, her hips jerking against his face as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. He didn’t let up, his free hand sliding up to squeeze her breast, his fingers twisting her nipple just the way she liked. The dual sensations sent her spiraling, her thighs trembling as she rode his face, her moans filling the quiet kitchen. But just as the orgasm crested, just as her body tensed for release, Robbie pulled back, his breath ragged against her skin. “Not yet,” he growled, standing in one fluid motion. His jeans were already undone, his cock free and thick in his hand, the tip glistening with pre-cum. “You’re gonna come on my cock, just like I said.”

Aurora didn’t have time to argue. In one swift motion, Robbie lifted her, his hands gripping her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her the few steps to the kitchen counter, the cool granite biting against her bare back as he set her down. The contrast only heightened the heat between them, the mundane setting made obscene by the way he spread her thighs wide, his cock pressing against her entrance. “Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice a low rasp, his blue eyes burning into hers.

She didn’t hesitate. “I want it.” Her hands slid down his chest, her nails scraping lightly over his abs before gripping his hips. “Fuck me, Robbie. Now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With one hard thrust, he was inside her, filling her completely, stretching her in a way that had her back arching off the counter. Aurora cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out, the initial burn of his size quickly giving way to a deep, aching pleasure. “Fuck, you feel—” Robbie’s words cut off into a groan as he pulled back and slammed into her again, his rhythm already relentless. The counter creaked beneath them, the sound mixing with the wet slap of skin on skin, the obscene squelch of her pussy taking him over and over.

Aurora’s legs locked tighter around his waist, her heels digging into his ass as she met him thrust for thrust. Every snap of his hips sent a jolt of pleasure through her, her breasts bouncing with the force, her nipples tight and aching. Robbie’s mouth found one, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before he sucked hard, his tongue swirling in a way that made her whimper. “You like that?” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough with effort. “Like when I fuck you like this? When I make you take every inch?”

“Yes—*yes*—” She couldn’t form coherent words, her body too lost in sensation. His cock dragged against that perfect spot inside her with every thrust, the pressure building again, tighter this time, more insistent. She could feel him everywhere—his hands on her hips, his mouth on her breasts, his cock buried deep inside her, his breath hot against her skin. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Robbie’s control was slipping. His thrusts grew erratic, his grip on her hips bruising as he chased his own release. “Gonna make you come so hard,” he grunted, his voice strained. “Gonna fill this tight little pussy up until you’re dripping with me.” The filthy words sent a fresh wave of heat through her, her walls clenching around him. He groaned, his cock twitching inside her in response. “That’s it, baby. Milk my cock. Show me how bad you want it.”

Aurora’s vision blurred, her body coiling tight as the orgasm crashed over her. She came with a broken cry, her back arching as pleasure ripped through her, her pussy pulsing around Robbie’s cock. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, his thrusts growing harder as he chased his own release. “Fuck, Aurora—*fuck*—” His voice was a guttural growl, his body tensing as he buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing as he came deep inside her. She could feel it—the hot rush of his cum filling her, the way his body jerked with each pulse, his breath ragged against her neck.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, their bodies still connected, their breathing slowly steadying. Robbie’s forehead rested against hers, his hands gentle now as they stroked her sides. “Holy shit,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. Aurora could only laugh breathlessly, her body still humming with aftershocks. “Yeah,” she agreed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. “That was…”

“Not enough,” Robbie finished, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were dark with renewed hunger, his cock still half-hard inside her. Before she could protest, he was pulling out, his cum dripping from her pussy as he turned her around, pressing her chest against the cool counter. “Again,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Aurora should’ve argued. She should’ve told him she needed a minute, that her legs were still shaking, that she had to think about the kids coming home soon. But the way his hands slid up her back, the way his fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head back just enough to expose her throat—it stole every rational thought from her mind. “Robbie—” His name came out as a plea, but she wasn’t even sure what she was begging for. More? Less? She didn’t know. She only knew she couldn’t say no.

His cock pressed against her again, slick with their combined arousal, and this time, he didn’t tease. He pushed inside her in one smooth motion, filling her from behind, his hands gripping her hips as he set a punishing pace. The angle was different, deeper, each thrust hitting a spot that made her toes curl. “You feel that?” he growled, his voice rough in her ear. “Feel how deep I am? How good you take me?” His fingers found her clit, rubbing in tight circles that matched the rhythm of his hips. Aurora’s moans grew louder, her body trembling as another orgasm built, this one even more intense than the last.

“Come for me again,” Robbie demanded, his teeth sinking into the curve of her shoulder. The sharp pain mixed with pleasure sent her over the edge, her pussy clenching around him as she came with a sob, her body wrung out but still greedy for more. Robbie followed with a groan, his cum spilling inside her once more, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. This time, when he collapsed against her back, his breath coming in ragged gasps, neither of them spoke. There were no words left, just the sound of their hearts pounding in sync, the sticky heat of sweat and cum between them, and the unspoken understanding that this—whatever it was—was far from over.

Eventually, Robbie pulled out, his cum dripping down her thighs as he helped her sit up. Aurora’s legs felt like jelly, her body boneless and satisfied in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She turned to face him, her fingers brushing against his chest as she searched his face. There was something there—something more than just lust, more than just the afterglow of incredible sex. But before she could name it, Robbie’s stomach growled, loud and obnoxious in the quiet kitchen.

Aurora burst out laughing, the tension breaking as Robbie groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck, I’m starving,” he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I didn’t exactly plan for this to go quite like this.”

Aurora shook her head, still smiling as she hopped off the counter, her body protesting the movement. “Well,” she said, grabbing a dish towel to clean herself up as best she could, “lucky for you, I’ve got leftovers.” She tossed him a wink over her shoulder as she headed toward the fridge, her movements slow but satisfied. Robbie watched her go, his gaze lingering on the way her hips swayed, the faint red marks his hands had left on her skin. Yeah, this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Chapter Five: Mark of Possession

The fridge’s low hum filled the silence between them, a steady drone that matched the thrum of Aurora’s pulse in her throat. She pulled the container of leftovers from the shelf, the plastic lid resisting for a second before popping free with a wet schlick. The scent of garlic and roasted chicken spilled into the air, thick and savory, but beneath it lingered something darker—musky, salt-sweet, the unmistakable aroma of sex clinging to their skin. Her fingers trembled as she scooped the food onto two plates, the utensil clinking against the ceramic. Not from exhaustion. Not from the ache between her thighs, though that was there too—a deep, satisfied throb where Robbie had stretched her, filled her, left her dripping with his cum. No, the tremor came from the way his gaze burned into the side of her neck, heavy and possessive, like he was memorizing the curve of her shoulder, the way her breath hitched when his fingers had dug into her hips earlier.

Robbie didn’t move from where he leaned against the counter, his jeans still unbuttoned, the denim slung low enough that the dark trail of hair below his navel peeked out, disappearing into the shadowed waistband. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, the faint sheen of sweat catching the overhead light, making his skin glow like polished bronze. He watched her—really watched her—the way her hips swayed just a fraction when she reached for the microwave, the way the muscles in her back flexed as she stretched to grab the plates. The sight of her, bare-breasted and unselfconscious, sent a fresh pulse of heat straight to his cock. It twitched, half-hard already, the thick ridge pressing against the fly of his jeans. But for once, the hunger gnawing at him wasn’t just about sinking back inside her. It was deeper. Messier. The kind of hunger that didn’t go away after coming.

Aurora stabbed the microwave buttons harder than necessary, the beep-beep-beep too sharp in the quiet kitchen. “You’re staring,” she murmured, not turning around. Her voice was rough, smoked-out, like she’d been screaming his name for hours. Which, well. She had.

“Can’t help it.” His voice was gravel, rough and low. “You’re fucking gorgeous like this.” His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to touch her again. “Messed up. Flushed. Still got my cum leaking out of you.” His hand lifted before he could stop himself, tracing the faint red mark his teeth had left on her shoulder earlier—right where her neck sloped into her collarbone. She shivered, but didn’t pull away. “Mine,” he growled, the word slipping out before he could call it back.

The claim hung between them, thick and electric. Mine. Aurora’s breath hitched. She shouldn’t like that. Shouldn’t like the way his fingers curled possessively around her hip, thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above her pubic bone, where the dampness of him still clung to her. But she did. God help her, she loved it. The microwave dinged, and she jerked away, grabbing the plates before the moment could stretch any further. “Eat,” she said, shoving one toward him. “You’re gonna need the energy.”

Robbie smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took the plate, the ceramic warm against his palms. For a few minutes, they ate in silence, the only sounds the scrape of forks against china, the occasional swallow, the way Aurora’s thighs shifted restlessly under the table like she was still feeling him between them. The chicken was tender, the vegetables still crisp with a bite, but Robbie barely tasted it. His mind was elsewhere—on the way her lips had parted when he’d first pushed inside her, wet and shocked, like she couldn’t believe how good it felt. On the desperate, broken noises she’d made when he’d fucked her against the counter, her nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood. On the way she’d clung to him afterward, her body trembling, her breath hot against his neck, like she was afraid if she let go, he’d vanish.

He set his fork down with a clatter. “I don’t do this,” he said abruptly, the words tearing out of him.

Aurora paused mid-bite, her hazel eyes flicking to his. “Do what?”

“This.” He gestured between them, then at the kitchen—the discarded clothes piled on the floor, the smear of her lipstick on his collarbone, the way her thighs were still slightly spread, like she was bracing for him to touch her again. “I don’t stay. I don’t… talk after. I don’t care after.”

Aurora swallowed, setting her fork down. “Okay.”

“It’s not—” He rubbed his temple, frustration bleeding into his voice. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I can’t. Or I didn’t think I could.” His fingers twisted in the hem of the dish towel she’d left crumpled on the counter, the fabric damp in places, smelling like her. Like them. “People leave. They always fucking leave. My old man walked out when I was eight. My first serious girlfriend bailed when the band started touring. Even my best friend ghosted me when he got a record deal and decided I wasn’t ‘serious’ enough.” He laughed, sharp and bitter. “Turns out, I’m the common denominator. So I stopped letting anyone get close enough to prove it.”

Aurora turned in her chair to face him fully, her bare breasts rising and falling with each breath. The silver necklace with her kids’ initials glinted against her collarbone, the only thing she still wore. “And now?”

“Now?” Robbie’s gaze locked onto hers, raw and unguarded. “Now I’m sitting in your kitchen, half-naked, after fucking you twice, and all I can think about is when I get to do it again.” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “And that terrifies me.”

The confession hung between them, thick and suffocating. Aurora reached out, her fingers brushing his wrist. His pulse jumped under her touch. “Why?” she asked softly.

“Because it means I give a shit.” His voice dropped to a rasp. “Because I want to give a shit. And I don’t know how to do that without fucking it up.”

Aurora didn’t pull away. Instead, she slid off her chair and onto his lap, straddling him right there at the kitchen table. The metal legs groaned under their combined weight. Her pussy was still sensitive, her inner thighs sticky with his cum, but she ignored the discomfort. Right now, she needed him to see her. “Then let me be the one to tell you when you do,” she said, cupping his face. Her thumbs brushed the stubble on his cheeks, the slight give of his lips. “Not your dad. Not your ex. Not some asshole who couldn’t recognize talent if it bit him in the dick.” She leaned in, her lips brushing his. “Me.”

Robbie’s breath hitched. His hands slid up her back, fingers splaying wide, like he was trying to memorize the shape of her. “You don’t even know me,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I know enough.” She kissed him—slow, deep, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips until he opened for her. He tasted like garlic and sin, and she couldn’t get enough. When she pulled back, his eyes were dark, his cock fully hard again beneath her. “I know you’re stubborn. And talented. And you pretend you don’t care, but you do.” Her thumb brushed his bottom lip. “I know you make me feel alive in a way I haven’t in years.” She rolled her hips, just once, and his breath stuttered. “And I know you’re still inside me.”

A groan tore from his throat. His hands tightened on her ass, fingers digging into flesh hard enough to bruise. “Fuck, Aurora—”

“So fuck me,” she whispered, her lips against his ear. “But don’t you dare tell me this is just sex.”

For a heartbeat, he hesitated. Then, with a growl, he surged up, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. The chair scraped back as he stood, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her back hitting the fridge with a dull thud. The cold metal against her skin made her gasp, but Robbie swallowed the sound, his tongue plunging between her lips as his cock found her entrance.

He didn’t ask this time. Didn’t tease. He took, driving up into her in one rough thrust. Aurora cried out, her nails raking down his back, the sting of the fridge against her shoulder blades only making it better. She was sore, oversensitive, but the stretch of him filling her again sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through her. “Yes,” she gasped, her head falling back against the fridge. “Just like that.”

Robbie didn’t hold back. He fucked her like he was trying to brand her from the inside out—hard, deep strokes that had her seeing stars. The fridge rattled with each thrust, the magnets clattering like a broken metronome. His mouth found her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, biting and sucking until she knew she’d wear his marks for days. “You feel that?” he growled, his hips snapping up. “You feel how good we are?”

“Yes—” Her voice broke on a moan. “Yes, I feel it—”

“Say it.” His teeth grazed her nipple, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain through her. “Say you’re mine.”

Aurora’s back arched, her body tightening around him. “I’m yours,” she sobbed. “Oh god, Robbie, I’m yours—”

That was all it took. With a guttural groan, Robbie buried himself to the hilt and came, his cum flooding her in hot, thick pulses. Aurora followed seconds later, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, her pussy clenching around him as she choked out his name.

They stayed like that for a long moment—breathless, trembling, clinging to each other like they were the only solid things left in the world. Robbie’s forehead pressed to hers, his breath hot against her lips. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice rough. “But I want to. With you.”

Aurora smiled, slow and soft. She reached up, threading her fingers through his messy hair. “Then we’ll figure it out,” she murmured. “Together.”

Outside, the first hints of dawn began to creep through the kitchen window, painting the floor in pale gold. Neither of them noticed. Right now, there was only this—their bodies still joined, their hearts pounding in sync, and the quiet, terrifying promise of something more.

Robbie’s hands slid down to her waist, his thumbs tracing the dip of her spine. The fridge hummed against her back, the vibration a low, constant thrum that matched the aftershocks of her orgasm. She could feel him softening inside her, but neither of them moved to pull away. The intimacy of it—still connected, still close—sent a fresh flush of heat through her.

“You’re gonna be sore tomorrow,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Aurora laughed, breathless. “I’m sore now.”

His chuckle was dark, satisfied. “Good.” His teeth grazed her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. “I want you to feel me every time you move.”

She tilted her head, giving him better access, her fingers tightening in his hair. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you.” The words were out before he could stop them, raw and honest. His hands flexed on her hips, pulling her closer, like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go. “Fuck, Aurora, what are you doing to me?”

She met his gaze, her hazel eyes dark and serious. “Same thing you’re doing to me.”

For a second, neither of them spoke. Then Robbie’s mouth crashed into hers again, desperate and hungry. Aurora melted into it, her body arching against him, her breasts pressing into his chest. His hands slid up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones, like he was trying to memorize the shape of her.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless. Robbie rested his forehead against hers, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “I don’t know how to be what you need,” he admitted, voice rough. “But I want to. More than I’ve wanted anything.”

Aurora’s heart stuttered. She reached up, her hand covering his where it rested against her cheek. “You already are,” she whispered. “You just don’t see it yet.”

Robbie’s breath hitched. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm, his lips warm and soft. “I’ll try,” he said, the words simple but heavy with promise. “For you, I’ll try.”

Aurora smiled, her thumb brushing his bottom lip. “That’s all I ask.”

Outside, the sky had lightened, the first birds beginning to chirp in the trees. But inside the kitchen, time felt suspended, the rest of the world falling away until there was only this—the two of them, tangled together, the taste of each other on their lips, and the quiet, unspoken understanding that something had shifted. Something big.

Robbie’s stomach growled, loud and insistent, breaking the silence. Aurora laughed, the sound bright and unexpected. “Guess we should eat,” she said, though neither of them made a move to pull apart.

Robbie groaned, but his hands slid down to her waist, lifting her gently off him. The loss of him was immediate, a hollow ache between her thighs, but the way his cum dripped down her inner thigh sent a fresh pulse of heat through her. She watched as he tucked himself back into his jeans, his movements slow, almost reluctant.

Aurora grabbed her discarded shirt from the floor, pulling it over her head. The fabric was soft against her skin, but it did little to hide the marks Robbie had left on her—the love bites on her neck, the faint redness on her collarbone where his stubble had scraped her. She didn’t bother with a bra. Let him look. Let him see what he did to her.

They sat back down at the table, the plates of food now cold, but neither of them cared. Robbie watched as Aurora took a bite of chicken, her lips wrapping around the fork, and a fresh wave of lust hit him. Fuck. He was going to be hard again in about two seconds if he kept looking at her like that.

Aurora caught his gaze and smirked, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. “See something you like?” she teased, her voice low and husky.

Robbie’s cock twitched. “You have no idea.”

She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, giving him a perfect view down her shirt. “Then tell me.”

His hand shot out, gripping the back of her neck, pulling her in for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, his tongue tangling with hers like he was trying to memorize the taste of her. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark, his voice rough. “I like the way you look with my marks on you. I like the way you sound when I’m inside you. I like the way you taste.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “And I really fucking like the way you’re still dripping with my cum.”

Aurora’s breath hitched, her thighs pressing together. “Robbie—”

“But most of all,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I like the way you make me feel. Like I’m not just some fuckup with a guitar and a string of bad decisions.” His fingers tightened slightly on her neck. “Like I’m worth something.”

Aurora’s heart clenched. She reached up, her hand covering his. “You are.”

Robbie’s gaze held hers, something raw and vulnerable flickering in his eyes. Then, with a rough exhale, he pulled her in for another kiss, this one softer, sweeter. When they broke apart, Aurora’s lips were swollen, her body humming with need again.

“We should finish eating,” she murmured, though her fingers were already working at the button of his jeans.

Robbie groaned, but he didn’t stop her. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Aurora smirked, her hand sliding inside his jeans, wrapping around his cock. He was already hard again, thick and heavy in her palm. “But what a way to go.”

The kitchen chair groaned as Robbie pulled her onto his lap again, his hands gripping her hips. Aurora straddled him, her shirt riding up, her bare ass meeting the rough denim of his jeans. She could feel him, hot and hard beneath her, and the ache between her thighs was back, insistent and demanding.

“You’re insatiable,” Robbie growled, but his hands were already sliding under her shirt, his thumbs brushing her nipples.

Aurora gasped, her head falling back. “So are you.”

“Fuck, yeah, I am.” His mouth found her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “But you started it.”

She rocked her hips, the friction of his cock against her clit sending a jolt of pleasure through her. “Then finish it.”

Robbie groaned, his hands tightening on her hips. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Aurora smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair. “But what a way to go.”

With a growl, Robbie lifted her slightly, his cock pressing against her entrance. Aurora sank down onto him, her breath escaping in a shuddering gasp. He filled her completely, stretching her, the slight burn only making it better.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Robbie groaned, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples.

Aurora arched into his touch, her body moving on his, slow and deep. “So do you.”

Their movements were slower this time, less frantic, but no less intense. Every thrust, every roll of her hips, every gasp and moan was drawn out, savored. Robbie’s mouth found hers again, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands explored her body, like he was trying to memorize every inch of her.

When Aurora came, it was with a broken cry, her body clenching around him, her nails digging into his shoulders. Robbie followed seconds later, his cock pulsing inside her, his cum filling her again.

They stayed like that for a long moment, breathless and tangled together. Then Robbie’s mouth found hers in a slow, deep kiss, his hands cradling her face like she was something precious.

“Mine,” he murmured against her lips.

Aurora smiled, her fingers brushing his cheek. “Yours.”

And for the first time, it didn’t terrify him. It felt right.

Chapter Six: A Song for You

The kitchen was still, the only sounds the quiet hum of the fridge and the soft rasp of their breathing. Dawn had fully broken now, casting a pale gold glow through the window, painting streaks across Aurora’s bare shoulders and the marks Robbie had left there. She sat with her shirt draped loosely over her, the fabric barely covering the swell of her breasts, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the tabletop. Robbie’s jeans were still unbuttoned, the waistband slung low on his hips, his chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of everything they’d done—everything they’d said.

He couldn’t look away from her.

Not from the way her hair, tousled and wild from his hands, caught the light like blue fire. Not from the faint smear of lipstick still clinging to her swollen mouth, or the way her throat worked as she swallowed, the ghost of his teeth still visible against her skin. His fingers twitched against his thigh, the need to touch her again a live wire under his skin. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just the fucking, the claiming, the way her body had clenched around him like she’d never let go.

It was the way she’d looked at him.

Like he was something worth keeping.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d marked her—bruises, bites, the ache between her thighs—but she’d marked him too, in ways he couldn’t see. Ways he couldn’t wash off.

Robbie pushed back from the table, the chair legs scraping against the tile. Aurora’s gaze snapped to him, her brows knitting together as he stood, his movements abrupt. “Where—?”

He didn’t answer. Not yet. His guitar was leaning against the wall in the living room, half-hidden behind the couch where he’d tossed it the night before. He grabbed it, the weight familiar in his hands, the neck warm from the sun streaming through the blinds. His fingers brushed the strings, a dissonant twang cutting through the silence.

Aurora turned in her chair, watching him. “Robbie?”

He didn’t look at her. Not yet. His throat was too tight, his pulse hammering in his ears. He’d written the song three nights ago, after the first time he’d left her place with his skin still burning from her touch. It had poured out of him in a fever, raw and ugly and honest in a way he never let himself be. He’d never played it for anyone. Hadn’t even planned to play it at all.

But now?

Now, he needed her to hear it.

He sat on the couch, the guitar settled against his bare chest, his fingers finding the chords by muscle memory. The first notes were hesitant, the strings buzzing slightly under his calloused fingertips. He cleared his throat, the sound rough, and then—

His voice broke on the first line.

“You’ve got this way of looking at me—*Like I’m not just the ghost of who I used to be.”*

Aurora went still.

Robbie’s gaze locked onto his hands, onto the way his fingers pressed into the frets, the tendons standing out sharp and defined. His voice was rough, unpolished, the melody simple and unadorned. It wasn’t a performance. It was a confession.

“I don’t know how to stay,*But I don’t know how to leave,*
*When your hands fit in mine**Like a prayer I don’t deserve to keep.”*

Aurora’s breath hitched. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her fingers curled into the hem of her shirt, knuckles white, as if she were anchoring herself to the moment.

Robbie’s throat burned. He swallowed hard, forcing the next words out.

“You’ve got my name on your skin,*But I’ve got your voice in my head,*
*And I don’t know which one’s gonna kill me first—**The way you beg or the way you said—”*

His voice cracked. He stopped, his chest heaving, the guitar silent in his lap. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. He couldn’t finish it. Not like this. Not with her looking at him like—

“Robbie.”

Her voice was soft. So soft it hurt.

He finally looked up.

Aurora was standing now, her shirt slipping off one shoulder, the marks on her collarbone stark in the morning light. Her eyes were wet, her lips parted, like she’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Play the rest,” she whispered.

His hands were shaking. He’d never been this exposed in his life. Not on stage, not in bed, not even in the darkest hours of the night when the loneliness threatened to swallow him whole. But the way she was looking at him—like he was something precious, something worth this terror—made him lift his fingers again.

The next chords were steadier. His voice, too.

“—the way you said you’d catch me*When I fall.*
*And baby, I’m falling,**But I don’t know how to crawl.”*

The last note hung in the air between them, vibrating with everything he couldn’t say. His fingers stilled. The guitar went silent.

Aurora didn’t move.

Then, slowly, she crossed the room.

Robbie didn’t dare breathe as she stopped in front of him, her bare feet brushing against his boots. She reached out, her fingers trembling as they grazed his jaw, tilting his face up to meet hers.

“You don’t have to crawl,” she murmured.

And then she kissed him.

It wasn’t the desperate, bruising kisses from before. It wasn’t the hungry, claiming ones, either. It was soft. Slow. Her lips moved against his like a promise, her breath warm and sweet, tasting of the wine they’d never finished. Robbie’s hands found her hips, his thumbs tracing the dip of her waist, the guitar forgotten against his chest.

She pulled back just enough to speak, her forehead resting against his. “You wrote that for me?”

He nodded, his throat too tight for words.

Aurora exhaled, her fingers sliding into his hair, gripping just enough to make him gasp. “Sing it again.”

Robbie’s pulse jumped. “What?”

“Sing it again,” she repeated, her voice firmer now, her eyes burning into his. “But this time, look at me.”

He should’ve been terrified. Should’ve bolted, should’ve made a joke, should’ve done anything but what he did next.

He set the guitar aside.

Aurora straddled his lap before he could even shift, her thighs bracketing his hips, her heat pressing against him through the denim. Robbie groaned, his hands flying to her waist, his fingers digging in. “Aurora—”

“Sing,” she demanded, her nails scraping lightly over his scalp.

He swallowed hard. His voice was rougher this time, the words spilling out between kisses, between the way her hips rolled against him, teasing, taunting. He couldn’t play the guitar like this, but he didn’t need to. The melody was in his head, in the way her breath hitched when he hit the low notes, in the way her fingers tightened in his hair when his voice cracked.

“You’ve got my name on your skin—”

Her mouth crashed into his, swallowing the rest of the line. Robbie growled, his hands sliding under her shirt, palming the warm weight of her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. She arched into his touch, a whimper spilling into his mouth.

“—but I’ve got your voice in my head—”

Aurora rocked against him, the friction maddening, her nails digging into his shoulders. “More,” she gasped.

He obeyed.

This time, when he sang the last line, it wasn’t a question. It was a vow.

“But I don’t know how to crawl.”

Aurora pulled back, her chest heaving, her eyes dark with something that made his heart stutter. “Then let me carry you.”

And then she was kissing him again, deeper, hungrier, her tongue sweeping into his mouth like she wanted to taste the words on his lips. Robbie’s hands slid down to her ass, lifting her just enough to grind her against the hard ridge of his cock, the denim rough against her bare skin. She moaned, her head falling back as he trailed his mouth down her throat, biting at the marks he’d left there, reclaiming them.

“Mine,” he growled against her pulse.

“Yours,” she gasped, her fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans.

He didn’t stop her.

The zipper rasped down, his cock springing free, already thick and leaking. Aurora wrapped her hand around him, stroking once, twice, her thumb swiping over the slick head. Robbie hissed, his hips jerking up into her grip.

“Fuck, Aurora—”

She didn’t let him finish. She rose up on her knees, positioning him at her entrance, and then she sank down, taking him in one slow, excruciating inch at a time. Robbie’s head fell back against the couch, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as her tight, wet heat swallowed him whole.

“Oh god—”

Aurora’s nails dug into his shoulders, her breath coming in sharp little pants as she adjusted to the stretch. “You feel so good,” she whimpered, her inner walls fluttering around him.

Robbie’s hands flew to her hips, his grip bruising. “Move,” he demanded, his voice raw.

She did.

It wasn’t frantic like before. It was slow, deliberate, her hips rolling in deep, circular motions that had him seeing stars. Every time she sank down, her clit dragged against the base of his cock, her breath hitching, her nails raking down his chest.

“Robbie—” Her voice was a plea, a prayer. “I’m so close—”

He could feel it—the way her body tightened around him, the way her breaths turned shallow and desperate. His own release was coiled tight in his gut, his balls drawing up, his cock throbbing with every glide of her slick heat.

“Come on me,” he growled, his hands sliding up to her breasts, pinching her nipples hard enough to make her cry out. “I want to feel you milk my cock, baby. Want to feel you drown* in it.”*

Aurora’s back arched, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy clamped down around him, her inner walls rippling, dragging his own release from him with a brutal, shuddering force.

“Fuck—Aurora—!”

He came with a broken cry, his hips snapping up as he spilled inside her, his cum pulsing deep with every desperate thrust. Aurora collapsed against him, her body trembling, her breath hot against his neck as she rode out the last waves of her climax.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sounds were their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the fridge, the morning light warm on their skin.

Then, slowly, Aurora lifted her head. Her lips were swollen, her eyes heavy-lidded, her hair a wild halo around her face. She cupped his jaw, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip.

“You’re mine, too,” she murmured.

Robbie’s chest ached. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I am.”

And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t terrified of what that meant.

Chapter Seven: Marked in Steam

The last chord of Robbie’s guitar still hummed in the air, though the strings had long since stilled beneath his fingers. Aurora remained straddled across his lap, her forehead pressed to his, their breaths mingling in the quiet. The kitchen was warm, the morning light spilling through the half-drawn blinds, gilding the marks on their skin—finger-shaped bruises on her hips, the faint imprint of his teeth along her collarbone, the reddened patches where her nails had dug into his shoulders. His jeans were still unbuttoned, the denim rough against the inside of her thighs, and her shirt had ridden up, exposing the curve of her waist, the soft swell of her stomach.

Robbie exhaled shakily, his thumb tracing idle circles over the dip of her spine. The song had gutted him, left him raw in a way he wasn’t used to, and now the silence between them felt heavy, like the press of a hand against a fresh wound. He swallowed, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “We should shower.”

Aurora lifted her head, her hazel eyes searching his. There was no teasing in his tone, no smirk pulling at his lips—just a quiet sincerity that made her chest tighten. She could see the vulnerability still flickering in his gaze, the way his fingers twitched against her skin, as if he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to keep touching her. “Together?” she asked, though the word came out more like a confirmation than a question.

A ghost of a smile touched his mouth, but it was different from his usual cocky grin—softer, almost hesitant. “Yeah. Unless you’d rather—”

“No,” she cut in, shifting slightly so her thighs squeezed around his hips. “I want to.”

The admission sent a pulse of heat through him, and for a moment, he just stared at her, like he was memorizing the way the light caught the freckles on her shoulders, the way her lips parted when she was thinking. Then he nodded, his hands sliding up to cradle her waist before he helped her stand. The loss of her weight against him made his stomach clench, but he forced himself to move, to lead her toward the bathroom before he could second-guess this—before he could overthink the way his heart was still pounding, the way his skin felt too tight, too sensitive, like every nerve was alight beneath her gaze.

The bathroom was small, the tiles cool underfoot, the air already thick with the promise of steam. Aurora reached in to turn on the water, adjusting the temperature until the spray was just shy of scalding. Robbie watched her, his throat dry, as she tugged her shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor. The marks he’d left on her were stark in the fluorescent light—purple bruises blooming along her ribs, the faint redness of his stubble burn on the inside of her thighs, the dark imprint of his mouth at the junction of her neck and shoulder. His cock twitched against his jeans, but it wasn’t just lust this time. It was something deeper, something that made his fingers curl into his palms.

Aurora turned to face him, her hands going to the waistband of his jeans. “You’re still dressed,” she murmured, her voice low, teasing, but her eyes were soft, understanding. She knew what this was—knew he was trying to wash away more than just sweat and cum. She was letting him.

Robbie exhaled through his nose, his hands coming up to cover hers as she popped the button free. The zipper hissed down, and then her fingers were pushing the denim over his hips, taking his boxers with it. His cock sprang free, already half-hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. Aurora’s breath hitched, her thumb brushing over the sensitive head, and Robbie groaned, his head falling back. “Fuck, Aurora—”

“Shh,” she whispered, stepping closer, her naked body pressing against his. “We’re just washing up.”

The words were a lie, and they both knew it.

She guided him under the spray first, the water sluicing over his shoulders, darkening his hair to a deep chestnut. Robbie hissed at the initial heat, but then his muscles unknotted, his body relaxing into the warmth. Aurora reached for the soap, lathering her hands before she started at his chest, her palms gliding over the planes of his pecs, the ridges of his abs. She worked methodically, her touch firm but gentle, like she was memorizing him. The suds slid between them, slick and fragrant, and Robbie’s breath came faster as her fingers traced the bruises she’d left on his collarbone, the faint scratches down his sides.

“You marked me,” he said, his voice rough.

Aurora’s lips curved. “You marked me first.”

His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him, and then his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding. The kiss was slow at first, a lazy exploration, tongues tangling, teeth nipping at plump lips. But then Aurora moaned into his mouth, her nails scraping down his back, and Robbie growled, spinning her so her back hit the cool tile. The contrast made her gasp, her nipples pebbling, and Robbie took advantage, dropping to his knees in front of her.

The water cascaded over them, plastering Aurora’s blue hair to her shoulders, turning her skin slick. Robbie’s hands slid up the backs of her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just beneath her ass, and then his mouth was on her, his tongue dragging through her folds with a slow, deliberate stroke. “Fuck,” Aurora whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair, her hips jerking forward. “Robbie—”

He hummed against her, the vibration making her tremble, and then his lips sealed around her clit, sucking gently. Aurora’s legs nearly gave out, but Robbie’s grip on her thighs kept her upright, his fingers digging in possessively. “You taste so good,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak before diving in again, his tongue flicking over her entrance, teasing her open. “Like mine.”

“Yours,” she agreed breathlessly, her head thunking back against the tile. “God, your mouth—”

Robbie groaned, the sound muffled against her pussy, and then he was feasting on her in earnest, his tongue spearing inside her, his nose bumping her clit with every thrust. Aurora’s moans filled the small bathroom, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling in desperate little circles. “Please, don’t stop—oh god, Robbie, I’m gonna—”

He pulled back just enough to growl, “Come on my tongue, baby,” before sealing his mouth over her again, his fingers joining the assault, two of them curling inside her, finding that spot that made her see stars.

Aurora cried out, her orgasm crashing over her, her thighs clamping around his head as her pussy pulsed against his lips. Robbie lapped at her through it, swallowing every drop, his free hand sliding up to palm her breast, his thumb rolling over her nipple. “That’s it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. “Such a good girl, coming for me.”

Aurora was still trembling when he stood, his cock throbbing, the head dark with need. She reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his length, and Robbie hissed, his hips jerking into her touch. “My turn,” she whispered, sinking to her knees in front of him.

The water beat down on them, turning her hair into a dark, dripping curtain around her face. She looked up at him through her lashes, her tongue darting out to lick the pre-cum from his slit. Robbie’s breath stuttered, his hand flying to the tile to brace himself. “Aurora—”

“Shh,” she echoed his earlier words, her lips wrapping around the crown of his cock. She took him slow, her tongue swirling over the sensitive underside, her hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently. Robbie’s head fell back, a guttural sound tearing from his throat. “Fuck, your mouth—”

Aurora hummed, the vibration making his cock jerk, and then she took him deeper, her throat opening around him. Robbie’s fingers tangled in her hair, not guiding, just holding on, his hips twitching with the effort not to fuck her face. “Baby, I’m gonna—”

She pulled back, her hand stroking him fast, her thumb swiping over the head. “Come for me,” she breathed, her lips brushing the tip. “I want to taste you.”

That was all it took. Robbie groaned, his cock pulsing in her grip, ropes of cum spilling over her fingers, her lips, her tongue. Aurora moaned, licking him clean, her eyes never leaving his. When he was spent, she pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh, her breath hot against his skin. “Mine,” she murmured.

Robbie’s chest heaved, his heart hammering against his ribs. He hauled her up, his mouth crashing into hers, their tastes mingling, salty and sweet. The water rinsed the cum from her skin, the soap from their bodies, but the marks—the bruises, the bites, the lingering ache between their legs—those stayed.

Aurora turned in his arms, pressing her back to his chest, and Robbie wrapped around her, his cock already stirring again against the curve of her ass. He reached for the soap, lathering his hands before smoothing them over her stomach, her ribs, the swell of her breasts. His fingers lingered on the bruises he’d left, tracing them like he was committing them to memory. “I like seeing you like this,” he admitted, his voice rough in her ear. “Marked. Used. Mine.”

Aurora arched into his touch, her ass grinding against his hardening cock. “I like it too,” she confessed. “I like knowing you can’t look at me without remembering how I feel.”

Robbie groaned, his teeth grazing her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” His hand slid lower, his fingers parting her folds, finding her already wet again. “You’re so fucking greedy for me,” he murmured, circling her clit with his thumb. “Always ready, always so tight.”

“Only for you,” she gasped, her head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers slipped inside her. “God, Robbie—”

He worked her slowly, his fingers curling, his palm grinding against her clit. The water drummed around them, the steam fogging the mirror, their reflections blurred and indistinct. Robbie’s cock was fully hard now, trapped between them, the head leaking against her lower back. “I want to fuck you like this,” he growled, his fingers picking up speed. “Bend you over, make you take me just like—”

“Yes,” Aurora whimpered, her hips rolling against his hand. “Please, I need you inside me.”

Robbie didn’t need to be told twice. He turned off the water with a sharp twist of his wrist, then spun her to face him, lifting her effortlessly. Aurora wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and then he was pressing her against the wall, the cool tile a shock against her heated skin. “Hold on,” he ordered, and then he was lining himself up, the head of his cock notching at her entrance.

Aurora moaned as he pushed inside, her body stretching to take him, inch by slow inch. “Fuck, you’re big,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Robbie groaned, his forehead pressing to hers. “You take me so well,” he praised, his hips rolling in a shallow thrust. “Every fucking time.”

He set a punishing pace after that, his cock pistoning in and out of her, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the bathroom. Aurora’s moans were loud, uninhibited, her body clenching around him with every thrust. “Harder,” she begged, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. “I want to feel you for days.”

Robbie snarled, his grip on her ass bruising as he fucked her harder, deeper, the wall rattling with the force of his thrusts. “You will,” he promised, his voice raw. “Gonna fill you up, leave you dripping. Gonna remind you who you belong to.”

Aurora came with a cry, her pussy fluttering around his cock, her body shuddering against him. Robbie followed with a groan, his release spilling inside her, hot and thick. They stayed like that for a long moment, panting, clinging to each other, the water dripping from their skin, cooling in the air.

When Robbie finally pulled back, his cock slipping free, cum dripped down Aurora’s thighs. He watched, transfixed, as it trailed over her skin, and then he was dropping to his knees again, his tongue lapping at the mess he’d made. Aurora gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, but she didn’t stop him, her legs trembling as he cleaned her with slow, thorough strokes.

When he stood again, he pulled her into another kiss, this one slow and deep, like he was sealing a promise. “We should probably actually shower now,” he murmured against her lips, but there was no urgency in his voice, no rush to separate.

Aurora smiled, her hands framing his face. “Yeah,” she agreed. “We should.”

But neither of them moved for a long time.

Chapter Eight: Making Sweet Love

The shower’s last droplets pattered against the tile as Robbie exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along Aurora’s damp waist. The steam still clung to their skin, the air thick with the scent of her shampoo—something floral and warm, like jasmine after rain. His other hand braced against the wall, grounding him as the vulnerability of the last hour settled deeper into his bones. He’d let her see him raw, let her touch the parts of him he usually kept locked away, and now, with her breath ghosting over his collarbone, he needed to move before the weight of it all crushed him.

“We should dry off,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple before pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. His voice was rough, but not from the singing—from the way she’d wrung him out, body and soul. “Before we turn into prunes.”

Aurora hummed, her lips curving against his skin, but she didn’t argue. She knew that tone—the one that said he was teetering on the edge of too much. So she nodded, shifting back to give him space, though her fingers lingered on his hipbone, possessive even in retreat. “Kitchen?” she asked, already reaching for a towel. “I’ve got tea. Or coffee. Or—”

“Or something sweeter,” Robbie interrupted, a smirk tugging at his mouth as an idea took root. He snatched the towel from her hands and rubbed it over her hair first, rough but careful, like he was handling something precious. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

She watched him step out of the shower, water sluicing down the lean lines of his back, the muscles shifting as he grabbed another towel and wrapped it low around his hips. The bruises she’d left on his shoulders stood out stark against his skin, and a stupid, proud little thrill shot through her. Mine. The word echoed in her head, warm and heavy.

By the time she’d dried herself off and wrapped the towel around her chest, Robbie was already back, his jeans slung low and unbuttoned, no shirt. He held a small wooden tray—one of hers, she realized, from the top cabinet she never used—loaded with an assortment of half-empty jars and bottles. Honey, glossy and golden. Chocolate syrup, dark and thick. A can of whipped cream, the nozzle already tested by the dollop smeared on his thumb.

Aurora’s pulse jumped. “You raided my pantry.”

“Guilty.” He set the tray on the bathroom counter and crowded her against the sink, his thighs brushing hers. The heat of him seeped into her skin, chasing away the last of the shower’s chill. “Figured we could make better use of this stuff than just eating it.”

She licked her lips. “And what did you have in mind?”

Robbie didn’t answer with words. Instead, he dipped his fingers into the honey, the slow drag of them through the sticky sweetness deliberate, almost obscene. Then he painted a line from her collarbone down, between her breasts, the cool liquid a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch. Aurora gasped, her back arching instinctively, her nipples tightening as the honey dripped lower, catching on the swell of her towel-wrapped chest.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her hands flying to his wrists—not to stop him, but to steady herself.

“Too much?” His voice was a low rumble, his breath hot against her ear as he leaned in.

“No.” She turned her head, catching his mouth in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. The honey transferred between them, sweet and clinging. “Not enough.”

That was all the permission he needed.

Robbie dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands sliding up her thighs to grip the edges of the towel. He didn’t pull it off—not yet. Instead, he used his teeth to tug the knot free, letting the fabric pool at her feet in a damp heap. The cool air hit her skin, but it was nothing compared to the way his gaze burned as it raked over her.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. Then he reached for the chocolate.

The first stripe was across her hipbone, dark and glossy, the syrup clinging to her freckles. Aurora’s fingers twisted in his hair as he followed the path with his tongue, slow and thorough, the flat of it dragging up to her navel. She could feel the ridge of his tongue, the way his lips sealed around her skin to suck, to taste. The chocolate mixed with the salt of her, with the faint musk of sex still lingering from the shower, and Robbie groaned like he’d never had anything better.

“Robbie,” she whimpered, her knees trembling. “Fuck, baby, please—”

He chuckled, the vibration making her stomach flutter. “Patience, love.” The endearment slipped out without thought, and for a second, his movements stuttered. But Aurora’s fingers tightened in his hair, her nails scraping his scalp, and he forgot to be afraid.

The whipped cream came next, sprayed in lazy swirls over her breasts, the cold making her gasp. Robbie didn’t let her adjust. He leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the peak before he sucked hard, pulling the cream and her flesh together. Aurora cried out, her head falling back against the mirror, her hips jerking forward helplessly.

“That’s it,” he growled against her skin, switching to the other breast, his free hand kneading the first, thumb flicking over the sensitive tip. “Let me hear you.”

She was loud for him. Always loud. Moans spilling from her lips as he worked her over, the sounds raw and needy. The whipped cream melted under the heat of his mouth, dripping down her ribs, and Robbie followed it, licking a path to her sternum before sitting back on his heels to admire his handiwork.

Aurora was a mess—skin glistening with honey and chocolate, whipped cream smeared across her chest, her lips swollen from biting them. Her thighs were slick with more than just water now, her arousal thick in the air between them.

Robbie’s cock ached, straining against his jeans, but he ignored it. This wasn’t about him. Not yet.

He stood abruptly, crowding her again, his hands framing her face. “Turn around,” he ordered, his voice rough. “Hands on the counter.”

Aurora obeyed without hesitation, bracing herself against the cool marble, her ass pressing back against him. Robbie’s fingers trailed down her spine, then lower, dipping into the honey jar again before tracing the crack of her ass, the sticky sweetness dripping onto her thighs.

“Spread for me,” he demanded, and she did, her legs trembling as his fingers slid between her cheeks, teasing her entrance. Not pushing in—just there, the threat of it making her whine.

“Robbie, please—”

“Shh.” He leaned over her, his chest to her back, his lips brushing her ear. “I’ve got you.”

Then his tongue was on her, flat and hot, dragging up from her entrance to her clit, the honey making every stroke slicker, sweeter. Aurora sobbed, her fingers curling against the counter, her hips rocking back into his face. Robbie groaned, the vibration making her toes curl, and he did it again, his hands gripping her hips to hold her still as he feasted.

The chocolate was next, drizzled over her ass, the cool syrup making her jump before his mouth was there, licking it off, his teeth grazing her skin. He bit down—just enough to sting—and Aurora cried out, her body clenching around nothing.

“You like that?” His breath was hot against her wet flesh.

“Yes—*fuck*—”

He did it again, harder this time, his fingers finally pushing inside her, two of them, crooked to hit that spot that made her see stars. The honey and chocolate mixed with her arousal, the sounds obscene as he fingered her, his thumb circling her clit in tight, relentless circles.

“Gonna make you come like this,” he growled, his free hand sliding up to twist her nipple, pinching just shy of pain. “Gonna make you drip for me, Aurora. Then I’m gonna lick every fucking drop off this pretty cunt.”

She came with a broken scream, her body locking up, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. Robbie didn’t let up, his fingers working her through it, his mouth sealed over her clit to catch every tremor, every pulse. When she finally sagged against the counter, boneless and panting, he stood and turned her around, lifting her onto the edge of the sink.

Aurora’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, her heels digging into his ass. She was a mess—skin sticky, hair wild, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Robbie’s eyes were dark, his lips swollen and glossy, and when he kissed her, she could taste herself on his tongue.

“Mine,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands sliding under her thighs to hoist her higher. “Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasped, her fingers scrambling at his jeans, popping the button free. “Always yours.”

He didn’t need more. He shoved his jeans down just enough to free his cock, the head already wet, and then he was pushing inside her in one smooth thrust. Aurora arched, her head falling back, a keening moan tearing from her throat. She was so sensitive, her walls clenching around him, and Robbie hissed, his hips stuttering as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, fuck—” His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his breath hot against her skin. “You feel too good. Too fucking perfect.”

Aurora’s nails raked down his back, her body moving with his, meeting every snap of his hips. The counter dug into her ass, the mirror fogging with their breath, the scent of sex and sugar thick in the air. Robbie’s hands were everywhere—gripping her waist, cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples before pinching, just enough to make her whimper.

“Harder,” she begged, her voice raw. “I need you harder—”

Robbie growled, his control snapping. He pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in, the force of it making her cry out. The sink creaked under them, but neither cared. He set a brutal pace, his cock pistoning in and out of her, the wet sounds obscene, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the tiles.

Aurora’s second orgasm built fast, her body coiling tight, her breath coming in sharp, broken gasps. “I’m—*I’m*—”

“Come on, love,” Robbie snarled, his hand sliding between them to press against her clit, his fingers slick with honey and her own arousal. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

That did it. She shattered, her back bowing, her nails drawing blood from his shoulders as she screamed. Robbie followed with a groan, his release hitting deep, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside her, his forehead pressed to hers.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing, the drips of honey and chocolate sliding down Aurora’s skin, the warm press of Robbie’s body pinning her to the counter.

Then he kissed her—slow, deep, like he had all the time in the world. Like she was something precious.

“Mine,” he whispered again, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes.

Aurora smiled, lazy and satisfied, her fingers carding through his damp hair. “Yours,” she agreed. “Now take me to the kitchen. I want to return the favor.”

Chapter Nine: Under the Stars, Under His Touch

The warm, damp air of the bathroom clung to their skin as Aurora traced idle patterns along Robbie’s collarbone, her fingertips gliding over the faint sheen of sweat still lingering from their shower. The scent of jasmine shampoo mixed with the sweet, sticky residue of honey and chocolate, a reminder of how thoroughly he’d marked her just minutes before. Robbie’s chest rose and fell in a slow, satisfied rhythm, his fingers absently toying with the edge of the towel draped loosely around her breasts. The silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was thick with the kind of quiet understanding that only came after bodies had been pushed to their limits and emotions laid bare.

Aurora tilted her head, her blue waves tumbling over one shoulder as she studied him. “You know,” she murmured, her voice still husky from the moans she’d been unable to suppress earlier, “if we stay in here any longer, we’re gonna prune up like raisins.” Her lips quirked into a smirk, but there was a flicker of something softer in her hazel eyes—something that said she wasn’t quite ready to let go of this moment yet.

Robbie chuckled, the sound low and rough, his gaze dragging over her body with a possessiveness that made her skin prickle. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he mused, his thumb brushing over the swell of her breast where the towel had slipped just enough to tease. “But you’re right. We’ve got better things to do than turn into human prunes.” His eyes darkened as they locked onto hers, the blue of his irises nearly black in the dim bathroom light. “Besides, I’ve got a better idea.”

Aurora arched a brow, her fingers stilling against his skin. “Oh?”

He pushed himself up from the counter, his lean muscles flexing as he reached for her hand. His touch was warm, calloused from years of gripping guitar strings, and it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between her thighs. “C’mon,” he said, tugging her toward the door. “We’re taking this outside.”

Aurora blinked, her bare feet padding against the cool tile as she let him lead her. “Outside?” she repeated, though the word came out more like a breathy laugh. “Robbie, it’s the middle of the night. And we’re…” She gestured vaguely at their states of undress—him in nothing but his low-slung jeans, her in a towel that was barely holding on.

“Exactly,” he said, his grin turning wicked. The way his eyes raked over her, like he was already imagining peeling that towel off her body under the open sky, made her pulse jump. “No one’s around. Just us, the stars, and whatever’s left of that whipped cream.” He nodded toward the tray of half-empty bottles still sitting on the counter, the honey glistening under the bathroom light.

Aurora bit her lower lip, a thrill of excitement curling through her. She’d never been one for exhibitionism—not like this, at least—but the way Robbie looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing, made her want to say yes to anything he suggested. “You’re serious,” she said, though it wasn’t a question.

“Dead serious.” His voice dropped, rough and intimate, as he pulled her closer, his free hand sliding around her waist. “I want to taste you under the stars, love. Want to hear you moan where the whole fucking neighborhood could hear you, if they were listening.” His fingers tightened on her hip, possessive and demanding. “You game?”

Aurora’s breath hitched. The idea should’ve terrified her—being exposed like that, the risk of being caught—but instead, it sent a jolt of liquid heat straight to her core. She could already imagine the cool night air against her bare skin, the contrast of Robbie’s hot mouth on her, the way the darkness would make every touch, every taste, feel even more intense. “Fuck,” she breathed, her nails digging into his shoulder. “Yes. But if we get arrested, I’m blaming you.”

Robbie’s laugh was dark, triumphant, as he captured her mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue swept against hers, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the last drops of chocolate still lingering there. When he pulled back, his eyes were blazing. “Deal. Now c’mon, before I change my mind and fuck you against the fridge instead.”

Aurora let him guide her through the house, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floors. The kitchen was bathed in the dim glow of the under-cabinet lights, the remnants of their earlier play still scattered across the counter. Robbie snatched up the tray of ingredients with one hand, his other never leaving hers, as if he was afraid she’d bolt if he let go. The back door slid open with a quiet click, and then they were stepping out into the night.

The air hit her like a shock—cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the humid warmth of the bathroom. Aurora gasped, her skin pebbling with goosebumps as the breeze whispered over her damp body. The backyard was a shadowy expanse, the pool glinting under the moonlight, the patio furniture casting long, skeletal shadows. The scent of night-blooming jasmine and cut grass filled her lungs, mixing with the faint sweetness still clinging to her skin.

Robbie set the tray down on the outdoor table with a clink, then turned to her, his expression hungry. “Cold?” he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer—and that he liked it.

Aurora shivered, but not just from the temperature. “A little,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good.” His hands found the knot of her towel, his fingers deft as he tugged it loose. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her completely bare under the open sky. The night air kissed her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms and tightening her nipples into hard, aching points. Robbie’s breath hitched as he took her in, his gaze roving over her like a physical caress. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with awe. “Look at you. All mine, out here where anyone could see.” His hands followed his eyes, palming her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until she arched into his touch with a needy whimper.

Aurora’s hands flew to his wrists, not to stop him, but to ground herself. The exposure, the risk, the sheer wrongness of being naked outside sent a thrill through her, her pulse pounding between her legs. “Robbie,” she breathed, her head falling back as his fingers pinched just hard enough to make her gasp.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Let’s see how loud I can make you before you remember to be quiet.” His hands slid down her body, over the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, before gripping her thighs and lifting her onto the table. The cool surface of the metal tray bit into her ass, but she barely noticed—all her focus was on Robbie as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

The first swipe of his tongue was unexpected—a long, slow lick up the inside of her thigh, tasting the residue of honey still sticky on her skin. Aurora’s fingers tangled in his hair, her breath coming in sharp little pants as he worked his way higher, his lips pressing kisses to the sensitive skin just above her knee, the crease of her hip, the tender flesh of her inner thigh. When his mouth finally reached her pussy, she was already trembling, her body coiled tight with anticipation.

Robbie didn’t tease. Not this time. His tongue delved between her folds in one deep, greedy stroke, lapping up the arousal that had been building since the bathroom. Aurora cried out, the sound sharp and unchecked, her back arching off the table. The night air did nothing to cool the fire burning through her—if anything, it made every sensation more intense, the contrast of Robbie’s hot mouth against the cool breeze sending her senses into overdrive.

“Fuck, you taste even better out here,” Robbie growled against her, his breath ghosting over her wet flesh. His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her open as he feasted on her, his tongue swirling around her clit before sucking it between his lips. Aurora’s moans grew louder, more desperate, her hips rocking against his face as she chased the building pleasure. She could feel her orgasm coiling tight, just out of reach, and she whimpered, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Please,” she begged, her voice raw. “Don’t stop—”

Robbie pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with her arousal. “Beg me,” he demanded, his voice a dark purr. “Tell me what you want, love. Tell me how bad you need it.”

Aurora’s face burned, but the embarrassment only fueled her desire. “I need you to make me come,” she gasped, her thighs trembling around his head. “Please, Robbie, please—”

He didn’t let her finish. His mouth crashed back against her, his tongue working her clit in tight, relentless circles while two fingers plunged inside her. Aurora screamed, the sound tearing from her throat as her orgasm crashed over her, her body shuddering violently against his face. Robbie groaned, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure rippling through her, his fingers curling inside her to drag out every last tremor.

When she finally collapsed back against the table, boneless and breathless, Robbie stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were dark with lust, his cock straining against the fly of his jeans. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmured, leaning over her to capture her mouth in a kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, sweet and musky, and it sent another spark of arousal through her.

Aurora’s hands flew to his belt, her fingers fumbling in her haste to free him. “My turn,” she panted, pushing his jeans down his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly as she met his gaze. “Lie down.”

Robbie didn’t argue. He stretched out on the patio lounger, his body a long, lean line of muscle and ink under the moonlight. Aurora straddled him, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. She took her time, trailing her fingers over his chest, his abs, the sharp V of his hips, before finally wrapping her hand around his cock again. “You like watching me, don’t you?” she murmured, her thumb swiping over the slick head. “Liking seeing me like this—naked, wet, yours.”

Robbie’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Fuck yes,” he growled. “Now stop teasing and ride me, love. I want to feel that tight little cunt milking my cock under the stars.”

Aurora didn’t need to be told twice. She rose up on her knees, guiding him to her entrance, and sank down onto him in one smooth motion. They both groaned, the sound mingling in the night air as she took him to the hilt. Robbie’s hands slid up to her breasts, his thumbs finding her nipples and rolling them between his fingers as she began to move.

The angle was perfect, every thrust of her hips driving him deeper, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. Aurora braced her hands on his chest, her nails digging into his skin as she rode him, her body moving in a rhythm as old as time. The cool air kissed her sweat-slicked skin, the breeze teasing over her nipples, her clit, everywhere Robbie wasn’t touching—and it only made her more aware of where he was.

“Harder,” Robbie grunted, his hips snapping up to meet her movements. “Fuck, Aurora, take it harder—”

She obeyed, slamming herself down onto him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. Robbie’s hands dropped to her ass, his fingers spreading her cheeks as he thrust up into her, his cock pistoning in and out of her with bruising force. The sounds of their bodies slapping together filled the night, wet and obscene, mixed with their moans and the distant rustle of leaves in the trees.

Aurora could feel her second orgasm building, her walls fluttering around Robbie’s cock as she teetered on the edge. “I’m close,” she whimpered, her movements growing erratic. “Fuck, Robbie, I’m—”

“Come for me,” he snarled, his fingers finding her clit and circling it with rough, demanding strokes. “Now, love. Now.”

That was all it took. Aurora shattered, her back arching as pleasure tore through her, her pussy clenching around him in wave after wave of release. Robbie groaned, his own orgasm crashing over him as he buried himself deep inside her, his cock pulsing as he filled her with hot, thick cum. Aurora collapsed against his chest, her body still trembling, her breath coming in shallow pants as she felt him spill inside her.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, their bodies tangled together under the vast, indifferent sky. The night air was cool against their heated skin, the scent of sex and sweat and something sweet lingering between them. Robbie’s arms wrapped around her, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Fuck,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “We’re definitely doing that again.”

Aurora laughed, the sound breathless and content as she nuzzled against his chest. “Yeah,” she agreed, her fingers tracing idle patterns over his skin. “We definitely are.”

Chapter Ten: Closer than Ever

The cool night air brushed against their skin, raising goosebumps along Aurora’s arms as she lay sprawled across Robbie’s chest on the patio lounger. The metal frame creaked softly beneath them, a quiet counterpoint to their ragged breathing. His heartbeat thudded steady and strong under her ear, a rhythm she’d grown addicted to—proof that this, him, was real. The scent of jasmine still clung to the air, but beneath it was something richer, muskier: the smell of sex, of sweat, of two bodies pushed past the point of restraint.

Robbie’s fingers traced idle patterns along her spine, his touch lighter now, almost absentminded. The high of their climax had faded into something quieter, heavier. His other hand rested on her hip, possessive but loose, as if he were afraid to hold too tight and break the moment. Aurora tilted her head just enough to press a kiss to his collarbone, tasting salt and the faintest hint of chocolate still lingering on his skin. She could feel the shift in him—the way his muscles tensed ever so slightly, his breath hitching before he exhaled slow and controlled.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted suddenly, voice rough, like the words had been scraped from somewhere deep. His fingers stilled against her back.

Aurora lifted her head, propping her chin on his sternum so she could see his face. The moonlight carved sharp angles into his features, casting shadows under his cheekbones, turning his blue eyes into dark, fathomless pools. “Do what?” she asked, though she already knew. She could hear it in the way his voice cracked—the same way it had when he’d whispered mine against her throat earlier, like a prayer and a warning all at once.

His throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “This. You.” A humorless laugh escaped him, bitter at the edges. “I’m good at the other stuff—the fucking, the teasing, the fun. But this?” His hand lifted from her hip, hovering between them as if he didn’t know where to put it. “I don’t know how to just… be with someone. Not like this.”

Aurora didn’t flinch. She reached up, catching his wrist, and guided his palm back to her waist, pressing it flat against her skin. “You don’t have to know,” she murmured. “You just have to try.” Her thumb brushed over the pulse at his wrist, feeling the way it jumped under her touch. “You’re doing it right now.”

Robbie’s exhale was shaky, his chest rising and falling beneath her. “I’m gonna fuck it up,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “I always do. I get too loud, or too quiet, or I push too hard, or I—” His fingers flexed against her, gripping just enough to bruise. “I don’t know how to stay.”

Aurora shifted, sliding up his body until she was straddling his waist, her thighs bracketing his hips. The movement pressed her bare core against the growing heat of him, his cock stirring beneath her, but she ignored it for now. Her hands found his face, cupping his jaw, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Then let me teach you,” she said, firm, unyielding. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be here.”

His hands came up to her wrists, not to pull away, but to hold on, his calloused fingers rough against her skin. For a long moment, they just breathed together, the space between them charged with something far more intimate than sex. Then, slowly, Robbie turned his head, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, but the way his tongue flicked out, tasting her, sent a shiver down Aurora’s spine.

“Tell me something,” she whispered, her free hand drifting down to trace the ink on his chest—a sprawling design of wings and barbed wire, half-hidden by the shadows. “Anything. Just… talk to me.”

Robbie’s lashes fluttered shut for a second before he opened his eyes again, focusing on her like she was the only thing in the world. “This one,” he murmured, guiding her fingers to a tattoo just above his heart—a small, intricate compass, its needle pointing northwest. “Got it after my first tour. Thought I was gonna be gone for months, but we got dropped by the label after three weeks.” His thumb brushed over the design, a ghost of old frustration in his voice. “Felt like I’d spent my whole life aiming for something that didn’t even want me.”

Aurora leaned down, pressing her lips to the tattoo, then the skin beside it, then lower, following the path of ink down his torso. “And now?” she asked against his stomach, her breath warm where it fanned over him.

His fingers tangled in her hair, not directing, just holding. “Now I don’t give a shit about the label,” he admitted, voice rough. “I just don’t wanna aim wrong again.”

She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. “Then don’t,” she said simply. “Aim at me.”

Something in his expression fractured—something raw and hungry—and then he was pulling her down, crashing their mouths together in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. Aurora melted into it, her hands sliding into his hair, nails scraping his scalp as she arched against him. The lounger groaned under them, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies.

Robbie rolled them suddenly, pinning her beneath him, his hips settling between her thighs. The movement was smooth, practiced, but the way he looked at her—like she was something precious, something he was afraid to break—was entirely new. His cock, thick and heavy, pressed against her entrance, but he didn’t push inside. Not yet. Instead, his hands framed her face, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones as he kissed her again, slower this time, deeper. His tongue stroked against hers, lazy and thorough, like he was memorizing the taste of her.

“Aurora,” he breathed against her lips, her name a prayer, a plea. His hips rocked once, just once, the head of his cock slipping through her folds, gathering her wetness. The sensation made her gasp, her back arching off the lounger.

“Please,” she whimpered, her legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. “Robbie, fuck—”

He cut her off with another kiss, swallowing her words as his hips rolled again, this time pushing just the tip inside her. They both groaned into the kiss, the stretch burning in the best way, the night air doing nothing to cool the fire between them. “Like this?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to watch his cock sink another inch into her. “Slow?”

Aurora’s nails raked down his back, her breath coming in sharp little pants. “Yes—god, yes—”

His control shattered.

With a growl, Robbie surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one deep thrust. Aurora cried out, her body bowing beneath him, her inner walls clenching around him like a fist. He stayed there for a heartbeat, fully seated inside her, his forehead pressed to hers, their breaths mingling. Then he began to move—not the frantic, desperate fucking from before, but slow, deliberate strokes that dragged against every nerve ending inside her.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, his voice a rough rasp. His hips circled, grinding against her clit with each thrust, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside her. “So tight, so wet—” His mouth found her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point before soothing the sting with his tongue. “Mine.”

Aurora’s hands slid down to his ass, her fingers digging into the muscle as she pulled him deeper, her moans growing louder, more insistent. “Yours,” she agreed, the word a broken whisper. “Always yours.”

The admission seemed to unravel him. Robbie’s rhythm faltered, his thrusts growing erratic, his breath coming in sharp gasps. “Aurora—I can’t—fuck—” His hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing in tight, relentless circles. “Come on, love. Come with me.”

She was already there, teetering on the edge, her body coiled tight as a spring. The moment his thumb pressed down, she shattered, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that left her breathless, her vision whiting out at the edges. Robbie followed with a guttural cry, his cock pulsing inside her as he came, his release hot and thick, filling her in deep, shuddering spurts.

They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths, the lounger creaking ominously beneath them. Robbie buried his face in the crook of her neck, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his climax. Aurora’s fingers carded through his sweat-damp hair, her other hand tracing idle patterns on his back, mapping the tattoos she now knew the stories behind.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The night wrapped around them, the stars overhead bearing silent witness to something fragile and new. Finally, Robbie lifted his head, his blue eyes dark with something that looked suspiciously like awe.

“I think,” he said slowly, his voice rough but steady, “I think I can do this.”

Aurora smiled, her heart so full it ached. She pulled his mouth down to hers, kissing him slow and deep, her answer written in the way her body still cradled his, the way her hands held him like she’d never let go.

“I know you can.”