11. Ally

Chapter 11

Ally

T he aftermath of my orgasm left me breathless, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to steady myself. I looked up at Thomas, his face hovering above mine, eyes dark with desire. Even with the hint of grey at his temples, he looked so beautiful. It was the kind of beauty that seemed almost unfair—rugged and intense, softened only by the depth of emotion in his gaze.

My fingers moved almost on their own, tangling in his hair. The strands were softer than I remembered, and I found a strange comfort in the simple act of running my hands through them.

God, it was so easy to fall back into this.

Into him.

"Ally," he murmured roughly, his voice gravelly with the remnants of passion. The sound of my name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine.

Without thinking, I reached out and began to unbutton his pants. The fabric felt cool under my fingertips as I worked each button loose, exposing more of him to me. His breathing grew heavier, matching the urgency in my movements.

I reached in and pulled out his hard cock, the heat of him searing against my palm. Thomas sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

"Fuck, Ally," he groaned, his voice heavy with desire. "I've missed you so fucking much."

I furrowed my brows as I began to stroke him, the rhythm of my hand mirroring the turmoil inside me. "I don't understand," I murmured, barely able to meet his gaze.

"What?" He managed to get out, his breath hitching with each stroke.

"I just… we were together three, maybe four weeks before…" I let my voice trail off, the unspoken words hanging between us like a fragile thread. "How can you miss something like that? Something that barely happened."

Thomas's eyes softened for a moment, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. He reached up, cupping my face with one hand while the other gently wrapped around my wrist, stilling my movements.

"Barely still happened." His voice was gruff. "Because it mattered," he said simply, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "You mattered."

"And Ni?—"

Before I could say his name, Thomas pulled me into a searing kiss. His lips crushed against mine, a blend of desperation and longing that left me breathless. When he finally pulled away, his eyes burned into mine.

"I don't want to hear his name from your mouth ever again, you got me?" His voice was a low growl, vibrating through my chest. "Especially not before I fuck you."

I sucked in a shaky breath, my mind spinning. "I don't know... Is this a good idea? Thomas, I..." I looked away, my fingers trembling against his chest. "I can't just hook up. It's not in me. I don't want to do this because I don't think I can ask you for more than this."

His grip tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. "Oh, and I can? You stopped picking up, not me."

"I didn't?—"

"Excuse," he cut me off sharply. "I want you. I wanted you before and I want you now."

"But—"

"No," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "No. I don't care about anything or anyone else. I said I want you. Isn't that enough?"

I searched his eyes, looking for something—anything—that might reassure me or confirm my fears.

"What more do I have to do to prove myself to you?" His frustration was palpable. "Marry you?"

A weak smile tugged at my lips as I tried to lighten the mood, though my heart wasn't in it. "Is that your way of proposing?"

The moment hung between us like a fragile thread, both of us teetering on the edge of something profound yet terrifying.

His expression softened for a split second before hardening again, as if he realized the vulnerability he'd just shown and immediately regretted it.

"Ally," he murmured, the intensity returning to his gaze, "I'm not playing games here."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself against the whirlwind of emotions inside me. It wasn't just about what we had or hadn't been; it was about everything that had happened since—the loss, the loneliness, the unresolved grief.

"And you think I am?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"I know you want to be with me," he replied, pulling me closer. His grip was firm, yet there was a tenderness in the way he held me. "Why fight it?"

"Because my dad?—"

"He's an asshole," Thomas murmured against my neck, his lips brushing against my skin in a way that made me close my eyes and forget the rest of my sentence.

"But I don't want?—"

"My relationship with my son isn't your business, Ally," he said firmly, cutting through my hesitation.

I flinched at his words, but before I could pull away, he cupped my cheek, resting his forehead against mine. "I'm not trying to be an asshole here. But it's not. What happened with me and him, that happened long before you. And if he wants to be a bitch about it, he's a grown adult. But you? You're something I can do something about. And I want you." He cocked his head slightly, a challenging look in his eyes. "Do I have to marry you to prove what I'm saying is true?"

"I thought you'd never marry," I whispered, feeling myself give in despite the turmoil inside me.

"Hmm," he hummed softly, his lips dangerously close to mine. "I'm open to a very particular exception," he murmured before capturing my lips in a slow and sensual kiss.

His kiss was unlike any other we'd shared before—there was no rush, no desperation. It was deep and lingering, each movement deliberate and full of meaning. His lips moved against mine with a gentleness that belied the intensity of our emotions, and I felt myself melting into him.

My hands slid up his chest, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles as I let myself get lost in the moment. His hands were warm against my skin, one still cupping my cheek, while the other rested possessively on the small of my back. The world outside seemed to fade away as we stood there, wrapped up in each other.

The kiss deepened as Thomas tilted his head slightly, giving him better access to explore every corner of my mouth. Each stroke of his tongue sent shivers down my spine, igniting a fire within me that I'd tried so hard to extinguish. His taste was intoxicating—a mix of desire and something uniquely him that left me craving more.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless. Our foreheads remained pressed together as we tried to steady ourselves, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.

"You're killing me here," Thomas whispered against my lips, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"Then why does it feel like you're saving me?" I whispered back before leaning in for another kiss.

"Fuck, I want you, Ally," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Nothing's changed between us. I still feel the same."

"It's not that simple," I said, my voice trembling as his hand slowly pushed me back down to the bed.

"It is," he insisted, his eyes locked onto mine with a fierce intensity.

He positioned himself between my legs, his weight pressing down on me in a way that made my heart race. Every inch of him felt like a promise, a declaration of something deeper than just physical desire.

"Please, Ally," he groaned, his voice rough with need. "Fuck, you don't know what I'd do for you."

And then he slid inside me. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I gasped, arching my back as I wrapped my arms around him, sinking my nails into his back. The warmth of his skin against mine was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness I'd felt for so long.

Every movement was deliberate, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I clung to him, desperate for more. His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve and contour with a reverence that made me feel cherished and wanted.

Our bodies moved in perfect sync, a dance of passion and longing that erased all the pain and confusion that had come before. For those moments, there was nothing but us—no past mistakes, no unresolved grief—just the raw connection between two people who needed each other more than anything.

His lips found mine again in a searing kiss that left me breathless. The taste of him was addictive. My fingers dug deeper into his back as the intensity of our movements increased, driving us both closer to the edge.

Each thrust brought us closer to a climax that promised to shatter everything and rebuild it anew.

“Fuck, Ally, you’re fucking mine,” Thomas growled, his voice vibrating through my entire body. “Not just now. But after I make you scream my name. After I make you come all over my cock. You belong to me. Say it. Tell me.”

“Thomas,” I gasped, the sound of his name barely escaping my lips as pleasure coursed through me.

“I’m not fucking around here.” His thrusts sped up slightly, the rhythm becoming more insistent, more demanding. “If you’re in this, you tell me right the fuck now. Because I do not fucking share. I won’t.”

His words cut through the haze of sensation, grounding me even as they pushed me closer to the edge. The intensity in his eyes left no room for doubt or hesitation. He was serious—deadly serious.

I closed my eyes, the overwhelming sensation making it hard to think, let alone speak. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through me, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the feeling of him inside me.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine. “Tell me you’re mine.”

I opened my eyes and met his gaze, the raw intensity there nearly undoing me. “I’m yours,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.

“Louder,” he commanded, his movements becoming even more forceful.

“I’m yours!” I cried out, unable to hold back any longer.

“Again,” he ordered, his pace relentless.

“I’m yours! Oh God, Thomas, I’m yours!” The words tumbled out of me like a confession, each syllable bringing me closer to release.

His expression softened for a moment before hardening again with determination. “That’s right,” he growled, his thrusts driving deeper and faster. “You’re mine. Always."

The world dissolved into a blur of sensations. The buildup was a slow, relentless climb, each thrust of Thomas's hips sending shockwaves through my body. I felt every inch of him, hot and insistent, filling me in ways that made my breath hitch and my heart race.

My skin tingled where his hands roamed, his fingers digging into my hips with a possessiveness that bordered on painful. It was a pain I welcomed, grounding me in the reality of this moment. The friction between us was electric, a spark that ignited into a full-blown fire.

My vision blurred as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Every nerve ending in my body seemed to light up, each touch, each kiss amplifying the intensity. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only Thomas and the heat between us.

I gasped as the first wave of my orgasm hit, a powerful surge that started deep in my core and radiated outward. My muscles tightened involuntarily, my back arching off the bed as I cried out his name. The sound echoed in the room, mingling with the rhythm of our labored breaths.

The pleasure was overwhelming, drowning out everything else. I could feel every inch of him inside me, the sensation heightened by the contractions of my orgasm. It was like being pulled under by a wave—intense and all-consuming. Each pulse sent another jolt of ecstasy through me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

Thomas's name escaped my lips again, this time a broken whisper as the waves of pleasure continued to crash over me. My hands clung to him desperately, fingers digging into his back as if he were the only thing anchoring me to reality.

His pace never faltered, driving deeper into me with each thrust, prolonging the intensity of my release. The sensation was almost too much to bear; it felt like every part of me was on fire. My skin burned where he touched me, each kiss and caress stoking the flames higher.

As the orgasm finally began to subside, I lay there panting beneath him, my body still trembling from the aftershocks. Thomas slowed his movements slightly but never stopped, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the past hurts, the unresolved grief—all replaced by the raw connection between us. It was a connection I had tried so hard to deny but could no longer ignore. And as I looked into his eyes, I knew he felt it, too.

Thomas followed moments later with a guttural moan that vibrated through both of us. His face contorted with a mix of pleasure and intensity, eyes squeezed shut, and brows furrowed as he reached his peak. I felt the warmth of his release, a final, raw connection between us that left me breathless.

His muscles tensed beneath my fingers, every line of his body defined in the dim light of the room. The usually controlled and guarded man was now undone, his vulnerability open for consumption in this moment of ecstasy. His dark hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and his lips parted as he gasped for air.

As the last waves of his climax subsided, Thomas collapsed onto me, his weight comforting rather than oppressive. We lay there, bodies intertwined, chests heaving in unison. The room was filled with the sound of our ragged breaths and the faint hum of city life outside.

I reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face, my fingers lingering on the stubble of his jawline. His eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, I saw something in them that I'd never seen before—an openness, a softness that contrasted sharply with the usual intensity.

"Ally," he whispered, his voice rough and low.

"Thomas," I replied softly, my own voice barely more than a breath.

We stayed like that for a while longer, savoring the afterglow and the rare intimacy between us. I knew this moment wouldn't solve all our problems or erase the past, but it was a step—a fragile bridge over turbulent waters.

Eventually, Thomas rolled off me and onto his side, pulling me close against him. His arms wrapped around me protectively, as if afraid I'd disappear if he let go. I nestled into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek.

In that quiet moment, with our bodies still entwined and the world outside forgotten, I allowed myself to believe that maybe—just maybe—things could be different this time.

As we finally came down from the high, he pressed a tender kiss to my forehead before resting his forehead against mine again.

“You belong to me,” he murmured softly but firmly.

And for the first time in a long time, I believed it.

I couldn't let myself worry about the past, about Nick, about the fact that Tom came in me.

I just wanted to forget everything for a bit.

I knew it would catch up with me soon… but not now.