He fucks you

He drops the bag. Crosses the room in three strides. Grabs you by the waist, lifts you like you weigh nothing, and pins you against the nearest wall—same spot he fucked you against last night.

No words this time. Just his mouth crashing into yours, tongue claiming, hands already shoving the dress up around your hips.

He doesn’t bother taking the thong off. He just yanks it to the side and thrusts in—hard, deep, bare. You’re still slick from thinking about him all day (shameful, but true). He groans into your mouth at how easily you take him.

“Missed this pussy,” he mutters between thrusts. “All day thinkin’ about comin’ home to my girl.”

He fucks you standing up, your legs wrapped around his waist, back scraping the wall. Fast. Possessive. Every stroke bottoms out, balls slapping your ass. You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in, moaning his name like a prayer.

When he comes it’s sudden—growling your new name (“Ashley, fuck—Ashley—”) as he floods you again. Hot, thick spurts painting your insides. You shudder through your own release, clenching around him, milking every drop.

He doesn’t pull out right away. He carries you upstairs like that—still impaled, legs dangling—straight to the bedroom.

Drops you on the bed. Strips. Climbs over you.

This time slower. Missionary. Face-to-face. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, folds you in half, and fucks you deep and deliberate. Watching your face the whole time.

“Look at me when I nut in you,” he orders.

You do. Eyes locked. His hips rolling, grinding against your clit with every thrust.

When he comes again it’s quieter—almost reverent. A low “fuck, baby” as he unloads, holding himself balls-deep so nothing escapes.

After, he collapses beside you. Pulls you against his chest. Big hand splayed over your stomach again.

“You’re stayin’,” he says, not asking. “This is home now. You, me, our kid when it happens. No more back-and-forth.”

You don’t reply. You just curl into him, still leaking his cum, still wearing the dress that’s now wrinkled and hiked up around your waist.

He kisses your forehead.

“Get some rest. Tomorrow we start actin’ like a real couple. Photos. Interviews. All that shit. You ready?”

You whisper, “Yes.”

And for the first time, you almost mean it.