Chapter Sixteen: The Bed

Marissa pulled away from the kiss, breath shallow and trembling in her throat. Her forehead rested against Daniel’s for a beat, their exhales mingling in the warm space between them.

She wasn’t sure what had just happened. Not exactly. Not in the way her rational mind could unpack. But her body knew. She had enjoyed it very much.

She felt his lips hovering just above her own and she smiled, “Seems like you know what you were doing.”

Daniel huffed out a breath, his voice still rough from exertion. “Oh? Did I impress the lesbian with my pussy-eating credentials?”

Marissa rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the laugh that followed. “Don’t get cocky. I said you did well for a man. That bar is barely off the ground.”

“Ouch.” He grinned, unbothered, brushing a thumb along her thigh. “Guess I’ll have to work harder.”

Her smile faltered, but only slightly. Her pulse kicked again, deep and low. “You offering?”

“I can keep going if you’d like,” he said, leaning in, voice a murmur against her skin. “Or…”

She rolled her eyes knowing well where he was going with that.

“The bed,” Marissa murmured, her breath warm against Daniel’s skin. “If I’m doing this, it’s not happening on a goddamn sofa.”

Daniel let out a quiet laugh, his hands smoothing over her hips, steady and grounding. “Fair enough.” He shifted, carefully pulling away, giving her time to adjust.

He adjusted his stance, then without hesitation lifted her into his arms. She expected him to help her up. She did not expect to be lifted.

“Holy shit,” she gasped as Daniel scooped her effortlessly into his arms.

Her hands scrambled instinctively to his shoulders. There was something startlingly intimate about being carried. Not coddled. Just held.

Daniel smirked, walking them toward the bed effortlessly. “What?”

She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “Nothing. Just… never had a partner who could pick me up like I weigh nothing.”

“You don’t,” he said, and his voice dropped half an octave. “You feel just right.”

Her breath caught.

It wasn’t the line. It was the way he said it, without bravado, without expectation. Just fact. Just admiration.

The bed loomed, its crisp sheets and wide frame more inviting than either of them had expected. Daniel laid her down gently, with a kind of reverence that made her stomach flutter.

Marissa sank into the mattress, skin flushed, breath shallow. Her hair fanned out across the pillows, braids curling around her shoulders. She watched him through half-lidded eyes, her legs still parted slightly from before, a subtle invitation.

Daniel looked at Marissa, a silent look wondering if he should proceed. There was still that doubt in him wondering if she really wanted this.

Marissa saw it in his eyes, that flicker of restraint. That careful checking. It wasn’t unattractive, it was infuriatingly noble. And maybe that’s what made her smile.

She smirked, slow and wicked, and nudged him with the arch of her foot. Her toes curled against the waistband of his slacks, tugging playfully.

“Come on,” she murmured, voice husky and bemused. “Pants off. Now.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “Excuse me?”

She stretched, the motion fluid and feline. Her breasts shifted with the movement, and she saw his gaze flicker, appreciating, but still holding back. “I need you,” she whispered.

That made him exhale, sharp and quiet, as if the words alone pushed the last breath from his lungs. He moved his hands to undo his trousers, letting them fall as she watched him, hand resting on her breast.

She’d never had interest in men, not like this. But Daniel… Daniel wasn’t just a man. He was someone who understood her, not just what Olivia and Samantha had done. But what it meant to live in a white world and navigate it. He was weight and warmth and vulnerability wrapped in muscle and quiet fire. Watching him strip down to nothing felt less like desire and more like surrender. An offering. To her. For her.

He stepped out of the last of his clothes, arousal clear, his body tense with need but still waiting for her cue. Her gaze dipped lower, and she let it linger.

And when her eyes found the thick line of him, her breath caught, less from size or surprise and more from the quiet realization: This is happening. And I want it to.

He was hard, full, undeniably male in a way she’d never let herself consider. But now? Now, she felt curiosity crackle through her like lightning. Wonder, even. What it might feel like. What it might mean to be filled in that way. To let him inside.

She beckoned for him with a finger,

And Daniel came to her, crawling onto the bed with the kind of care she hadn’t known men were capable of. Not performance. Not conquest. Just reverence. Like a man entering a temple.

And maybe he was.

Marissa sat up to meet him halfway, a symbolic gesture perhaps. But one that meant the world, he wasn’t alone or expected to do everything. They could share this moment of uncertainty and curiosity.

Her hand reached for him palm on his chest, not quite ready to touch that thing between his legs. But knowing she wanted him, it was a string of contradictions. But she kissed him anyways. A long slow lingering kiss before she pulled away.

Marissa lay back again, legs parting, eyes steady. “Come here,” she said softly. Not a command. Not a plea. Just truth.