13. Ally

Chapter 13

Ally

P leasure rippled across my body, gentle and persistent. Light crossed my face, but my eyes remained closed, caught in that fragile space between sleeping and waking.

Something pressed against my mound. Instinctively, I spread my legs wider, a silent invitation. Fingers trailed up my inner thigh, and I cracked my eyes open to find Thomas between my legs.

The sight took my breath away. His dark hair, streaked with the faintest hint of gray at the temples, contrasted sharply with the paleness of my skin. His piercing eyes were locked onto me, intense and focused, as if he was unraveling every secret I had ever kept. The muscles in his arms flexed with each movement, emphasizing his strength and control.

He looked rugged and raw, a man sculpted by years of physical discipline and emotional turmoil. The stubble on his jawline grazed my skin lightly, adding a rough texture to the softness of his lips as they worked their magic. His broad shoulders framed his face perfectly, giving him an almost predatory look—like he was a lion stalking his prey.

His hands gripped my thighs firmly yet tenderly, grounding me while his tongue explored every inch of me with expert precision. Every flick and swirl sent shockwaves through my body, building a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to consume me.

Seeing him like this—so devoted and focused on giving me pleasure—was erotic in a way that defied words. He was usually so guarded, so controlled. But here, between my legs, he was vulnerable and raw.

And I wanted more.

As though he could feel my eyes on him, Thomas looked up and caught my gaze. His intense, piercing eyes held mine, and the connection sent a shiver down my spine.

I moaned, unable to contain the sound that escaped my lips. The vulnerability in his expression clashed with the raw hunger in his eyes, making my heart race.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I could stay here forever, tasting you, feeling you."

His tongue continued its relentless exploration, and every flick sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. He moved with a deliberate pace, drawing out each sensation until I thought I might come undone.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his breath warm against my skin. "Do you want more?"

"Yes," I whispered, my voice trembling with need.

He grinned wickedly. "Good girl. Let me hear you."

With renewed fervor, he intensified his movements. His tongue pressed harder, swirling and flicking with a precision that left me breathless. His hands tightened their grip on my thighs, grounding me as I writhed beneath him.

"You're so wet for me," he said, his voice a tantalizing blend of authority and desire. "I can feel how much you want this."

My moans grew louder, each one a testament to the ecstasy building inside me. His words fueled the fire within me, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he commanded softly. "Let go."

And as his tongue worked its final magic, I did just that.

The pleasure built, spiraling tighter and tighter until I felt like I might shatter. My body tensed, every muscle coiled and ready to snap. When the climax hit, it was like a wave crashing over me, relentless and all-consuming. My breath caught in my throat as I cried out, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

Thomas didn't stop. His tongue continued its relentless assault, lapping at me with a fervor that bordered on worship. Each stroke sent aftershocks rippling through my body, prolonging the exquisite agony of my release.

"Thomas," I gasped, trying to catch my breath. "Please... I can't..."

He seemed deaf to my pleas, his grip on my thighs tightening as if to anchor me to this moment of pure ecstasy. My sensitivity reached its peak, and it became too much. I had to push him away.

With trembling hands, I pressed against his shoulders, finally breaking the connection. He relented but grabbed my wrist with surprising gentleness yet undeniable firmness. In one swift motion, he pulled me up until I was sitting before him.

Before I could fully process what was happening, his lips crashed into mine in a searing kiss. The taste of myself on his tongue was intimate and raw, mingling with the unique flavor of him. It was intoxicating.

The kiss deepened, becoming a desperate dance of tongues and lips. My hands found their way into his hair, gripping tightly as if he might disappear if I let go. His hand cupped the back of my neck, holding me in place as he devoured me with a hunger that matched my own.

I melted into him, every lingering bit of tension dissolving in the heat of our connection. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only Thomas and the fire that burned between us.

The taste of myself on his lips was a constant reminder of what we'd just shared—an unspoken promise of more to come.

Thomas's hands gripped my waist firmly, guiding me until I straddled him. The heat between us was palpable, our breaths mingling as we locked eyes. He adjusted himself beneath me, his cock pressing against my entrance, and the anticipation made my heart race.

I lowered myself slowly, feeling the head of his cock slide into me. A shudder ran through my body as he filled me up, inch by inch, stretching and claiming me in ways I never thought possible. Our moans mingled, a symphony of pleasure and desire that filled the room.

"Fuck, you feel so damn good, Ally," he murmured, his voice husky with need. His hand found the back of my neck, pulling me closer until our foreheads touched. His other hand rested on my hip, grounding me as he began to move.

He guided me up and down his length with a deliberate pace, each movement sending waves of ecstasy through my body. The friction was exquisite, touching places deep inside me that made my toes curl and my breath hitch.

My hands gripped his shoulders for support as I rode him, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. The intensity of our connection left me breathless, every thrust pushing me closer to the edge.

"Thomas," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. "Don't stop."

He tightened his grip on my hips, increasing the pace and depth of his movements. The room seemed to blur around us, the only reality being the sensation of him inside me and the raw emotions that surged between us.

With each upward motion, I felt him hit a spot that sent electric jolts through my entire being. It was overwhelming in the best possible way—pure pleasure wrapped in a cocoon of intimacy and longing.

Our rhythm grew more urgent, our breaths coming faster as we neared the precipice together. His grip on my neck tightened slightly, grounding me in the present moment even as I felt myself spiraling toward release.

"Ally," he groaned, his voice strained with desire. "Fuck, sweetheart, you're so fucking perfect."

His words sent a rush of warmth through me, fueling the fire that already burned so brightly between us.

As the climax built, every nerve in my body tingled with electric anticipation.

His eyes never left mine, filled with an intensity that spoke of unspoken promises and hidden desires. My breaths came in ragged gasps, matching the frantic pace of our movements.

Pleasure hit me like a bullet, crashing over me with a force that left me breathless. My muscles clenched around him, every fiber of my being caught in the throes of ecstasy. The pleasure was all-consuming, a white-hot sensation that spread through my entire body.

In that moment, I felt him reach his own release. His cock pulsed inside me, filling me with a warmth that only heightened my own pleasure. The sensation of him spilling into me was exquisite, a final connection that left us both trembling.

His head rested on my shoulder, his breath hot against my neck as we both tried to catch our breath. My fingers found their way into his hair, gently running through the dark strands as we came down from our high. Neither of us moved, unwilling to break the spell that had woven itself around us.

The room was silent except for the sound of our breathing. I could feel his heart beating against mine, a steady rhythm that grounded me in the present moment.

For now, this was enough.

"You're going to be the goddamn death of me," he murmured against my neck.

I smiled, continuing to run my fingers through his hair. "Just as I remember you," I murmured back. "Old man."

He bit my shoulder, making me yelp before laughter bubbled up. His roughness always had a way of breaking through my walls.

Thomas picked his head up, brushing hair out of my face with a tenderness that belied his usual demeanor. "Ally," he murmured, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "Why'd you stop returning my calls?"

"I…" My voice trailed off as I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying to find the words that seemed to elude me. "Tom… I…"

"I don't regret what I did," he said, pulling back and looking at me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "I know I represented Crestwood, but fuck, Ally, after I saw him hit you, I fucking lost it."

"He's your son," I whispered, the weight of those words hanging between us like a leaden anchor.

"You think I give a fuck?" His voice was sharp, eyes blazing with protective fury. "If anyone touches you…"

"I don't want to argue about this again," I said, cutting him off before he could spiral further into anger. We had been down this road too many times.

We looked at each other in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken emotions. The room felt smaller; the walls closing in around us as if they could sense the tension between us.

"I just… I want to understand." His voice was tight but controlled; I could tell he was trying to rein in his emotions for my sake.

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all we hadn't said. There was so much pain and confusion tangled up in our history—threads that were difficult to untangle without pulling everything apart.

My chest tightened as memories of that night flashed through my mind—Nick's fist connecting with my face, Thomas's roar of fury as he intervened. It was chaos and blood and broken glass.

"I couldn't bear it," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Seeing you two fight like that… It broke something inside me. I didn't want —"

"You didn't."

Thomas's expression softened, his thumb continuing its gentle caress on my lip. He didn't speak, but leaned in closer, his presence both comforting and overwhelming.

"You never talk about him."

"What do you want me to say?" Thomas demanded, his voice raw and trembling with barely contained emotion. "Huh? You want me to tell you he's my greatest failure as a father? That I'm embarrassed. I'm fucking ashamed of what I am, of what he is."

"Of course not," I said, my voice soft but firm.

"What do you want from me, Ally?" He ran his fingers through his hair, the frustration evident in every line of his body. "My bitch of an ex knew I was getting ready to fucking go, to follow my dreams and play professional hockey. And she got fucking pregnant. She took advantage of me. She fucking got me drunk and even when I tried to pull out because I never fucking wanted kids, she kept fucking going. And then I got injured a few weeks later. And then she's pregnant. What the fuck was I going to do, anyway? At the end of the day, he's my kid. I wasn't going to leave him. I needed to try to be a dad, but I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. And look at him, Al. He's a fuck-up."

"He's a professional hockey player," I pointed out.

"You think I give a shit about that?" He ran his fingers through his hair again, more agitated this time. "He's an asshole. He's a selfish little prick who has no love for the game and no respect for anyone. He's an entitled little cunt. Janet sunk her claws into him and turned him into a selfish, arrogant asshole. I tried. I tried. But I was never enough, okay? I'd do anything for my kid. Hell, I did. I stayed with someone I didn't want to be with. But I can't keep sacrificing my life for someone who wants nothing to do with me."

His eyes softened as he looked at me, the intensity shifting into something deeper and more vulnerable.

"And not when it comes to you," he continued, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "Never when it comes to you."

I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to break through the wall of pain and regret that surrounded him.

"So you can't run away again, got it?" Thomas's voice was firm, his eyes piercing mine. "You belong to me. You're mine. That means no one comes between us because you're above everyone else. I just... I want to trust you're going to stick around. Nick ain't going anywhere and Janet is constantly asking me for money and I fucking hate it. I fucking hate it. It's not easy, sweetheart. I'm not an easy person to love. Fuck, my own son doesn't love me."

"Thomas—"

"Don't," he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "Don't diminish this. I want you to see what's going to happen with your eyes wide open. You're everything to me. And now that I have you, I'm not letting you go."

I sucked in a breath, feeling the weight of his words settle over me like a heavy blanket.

"I wanted to call you so damn bad, but I got tired of you not picking up." He cupped my head tightly, keeping me in place. "The thought of you with anyone else… It drove me fucking crazy, Al. You're it for me, got it?"

I swallowed hard. "Don't say things you don't mean," I said softly.

"You calling me a liar?" His voice was rough, challenging.

"No." My hand ran across his shoulders, feeling the tension coiled within him. Thomas didn't bullshit; that much I knew. But still, there was always a possibility he'd get sick of me and leave. And I didn't know how I'd handle that.

"Hey," he said, kissing my jaw gently. "You remember when I promised you I'd teach you how to ice skate?"

I nodded, the memory bringing a small smile to my lips.

"You wanna?" he asked, his eyes softening as he offered me his hand.

I blinked in surprise. "Right now?"

"Hell yeah," he said with a grin, extending his hand further toward me. "What do you say?"

My heart raced as I looked at him.

I took his hand without hesitation, feeling a surge of warmth spread through my chest. "Let's do it."

Thomas's grin widened as he pulled me closer, our bodies pressed together in a moment of shared determination and hope.

"Come on then," he said, pulling me up. "Get dressed and we'll do it."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to believe that maybe—just maybe—things could be different this time around.