Wanted to update on Wednesday but it's my birthday today 👸👸🥳 and so I decided my lovelies readers need a special update.

Enjoy xoxo.

T H E O G R A Y

I SWEAR I never imagined this would actually happen - not like this, not tonight. But fuck, I'm over the moon that it is.

She's laid out beneath me, flushed and breathing heavy, her hair fanned out on the pillow like she belongs there-like she's mine. And God, she's still wearing that nervous little look, the one that says she's unsure but still trusting me anyway. That alone is enough to make my chest tighten and my pants feel ten times tighter.

I take a second-just one-to look at her. Really look.

Lacy black underwear. A bra I already want to tear off with my teeth. Her thighs trembling just slightly, even though she's trying to look composed. And her eyes... wide, shining, expectant.

Fuck.

I lean forward, pressing a kiss to the soft skin just above her hip. Her stomach flinches under my touch, and I smile against her.

Her breathing's off the roof, like she's just run a damn marathon.

She's nervous. So nervous.

And maybe I should stop. Maybe I should slow down and give her more space.

But then she lifts her hips, asking for more without saying a word.

I give her one last look, one final check-in, and the way her eyes plead with mine, I know she wants this.

Still, I have to ask.

"Has any guy ever..." My voice trails off, my thumb brushing over her hipbone. "...done this to you before?"

She freezes for a second, lips parted, eyes darting away. Then, just as quiet:

"Umm... no."

I blink, surprised. Wait, what?

She sees the look on my face and rushes to add-

"I'm not a virgin," she says quickly. Her voice carries this strange mix of embarrassment and defensiveness. "I've had sex before... just not... not this."

I stare at her for a second, stunned. She's had sex-and no guy's ever gone down on her?

What the fuck kind of sex is that?

I can't help the frown that slips onto my face. Not at her, no. Just at the guys who clearly never gave a shit about making her feel good.

Because, damn, she deserves so much more than that.

"What kind of sex have you been having?" I mutter under my breath before I can stop myself.

She lets out this tiny laugh, and it's nervous but real. "The kind that ends quick?"

That must have been some bad sex.

I lean down again, pressing a kiss to her hip. Then another, a little higher. My lips trail over her stomach, her skin quivering under my mouth.

The night is still young, and the soft glow filtering in through the blinds lets me see her just enough.

I want to see more. All of her. Her expressions, the way her lips part when she moans, the way her eyes flutter shut and her hands grip the sheets or maybe even my hair. I want it all burned into my memory.

My jeans feel insanely tight now. Just thinking about it has me aching.

But this isn't about me. Not yet.

I look up at her again. She's flushed and trembling, but she's still here-still looking at me like I might ruin her in the best way.

And that's exactly what I plan to do.

"You trust me?" I ask quietly.

She nods.

"Then let me show you how it's supposed to feel."

And with that, I slide lower and part her thighs fully.

Time to ruin her for anyone else.

My lips brushes just above the band of her underwear, and I feel her tense beneath me.

"Relax, love." I murmur, voice low, gravelly.

I then drag her panties down slowly, deliberately. My mouth is following their path, and her thighs squeeze instinctively around my shoulders. I gently push them apart again, and that soft gasp she lets out makes something snap inside me.

God.

Her moans-fuck.

They're soft at first, uncertain and hesitant, like she doesn't know if she should let them out or swallow them down.

No. Don't hold back. I want to hear all of it.

The first real moan she gives me, broken and breathy, makes my head spin. My tongue is barely in motion and she's already panting my name.

I groan against her, and it's not subtle.

Because I remember that sound.

I remember the first time I ever heard her moan-through a damn door. Muffled. Strained. Me on the other side, listening like a fucking perv while she had no idea. That day haunted me.

But this?

This is her moaning for me.

Open. Unfiltered. So damn sweet I want to bottle it and drink it straight.

Her fingers are tangled in my hair now, tugging, clutching-like she's trying to stay grounded, like her body is already lifting off the bed.

Her hips buck and I hold them down with both hands, diving in deeper, tongue relentless, desperate. I'm starving. I want to taste every inch of her, drown in her until she forgets her own name.

"Theo-oh my-"

That shaky moan of my name undoes me.

I groan again, this time lower, more primal. My hips grind into the mattress, needing some kind of relief because, holy hell, I'm hard enough to break through denim.

I glance up, just briefly, and what I see nearly makes me lose it.

Her head thrown back, lips parted, her chest heaving-so beautiful it actually hurts. Her hand flies up, covering her mouth like she's afraid to let another sound slip.

I pull away just enough to speak, voice low and rough.

"Don't you dare hide those sounds from me."

She lets out a whimper, and I swear it shoots straight through me like lightning. I press my mouth back to her, working her over until she's arching and writhing under me like she can't decide if she wants to run or melt.

"That's it," I whisper against her, lips brushing sensitive skin. "That's my good girl. Let me hear you."

And she does.

Loud and Needy.

Just how I want her to be for me.

I crawl back up her body, slow and deliberate, like I've got all night - because I do. I press my mouth to hers again, hungry, deep, letting her taste what she does to me. She moans, louder this time, hips twitching against mine like she can't help herself.

Her kiss is messy, desperate, and she tastes like tequila and nerves. Not drunk enough to forget this. Just enough to be brave. And I'm going to make sure this is seared into her memory.

"I knew your lips would be soft," I murmur against her mouth, "but I didn't know they'd ruin me."

Her fingers tighten in my hair, like she's trying to ground herself.

I slide my fingers down-slow, careful-hovering just over her most sensitive spot. I feel her twitch underneath me, her breath catching in her throat like she's holding on for dear life.

I pause.

"Has anyone ever fingered you before?" I ask, low and quiet, needing to know, even if the answer's already forming in my head. Her breathing's all over the place, and the way her hips keep rising like her body's searching for something it's never had-

She shakes her head. "No. No one has."

Fucking hell.

They didn't even finger her? What the hell kind of guys did she let near her?

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting too much. I don't want to ruin this moment by getting pissed at ghosts from her past.

"Do you want me to finger you, love?" My voice dips as I hover my fingers right there - barely touching, just enough to make her feel the promise of what's coming. Her eyes snap open, and she nods so fast I almost laugh.

"Yes," she breathes. So damn eager. "Please."

Christ, she has no idea what that word does to me coming from her lips.

I kiss her softly, murmuring against her mouth. "Good. I'll start with one finger so you can adjust, alright?" She nods, biting her lip.

"If anything doesn't feel good, you tell me, yeah?"

"Theo," she groans, "I hear you. Can you please put your finger in now?"

That makes me grin. "Yes, ma'am."

I drag one finger slowly through her folds, and she shudders under me. Her breath hitches like it's the first time anyone's ever touched her there like this - like this. Not rushed. Not fumbling. Just pure, focused, teasing care.

She's soaked. My fingers are already glistening from her, and I haven't even slid inside yet.

I press the tip of one finger in gently, just enough to breach her. Her mouth falls open, a sharp little moan escaping her throat, and I have to clench my jaw to keep it together.

Holy shit. She's tight.

Her walls pulse around me as I slide in slowly, inch by inch, and her hand flies to my forearm like she's holding onto me for support. Her brows pinch a little - not in pain, just overwhelmed - and I kiss her cheek, whispering low.

"You okay?"

She nods quickly, a breathy, broken "Yes," leaving her lips as she squeezes her thighs around my hand like she never wants me to stop.

I move slowly, curling my finger just right - and when her hips buck into me, her moan rips right through the quiet room.

She moans again - louder, raw - and I nearly groan into her neck.

"God, Theo... please..." She gasps, her voice breaking.

I'm lost in the sensation of her, of the way her body tightens around my finger. But I need more. I need to give her more.

"Shh, baby," I murmur, my voice dripping with need. "I've got you."

"Don't stop, please," she begs, and I can hear the desperation in her voice. It drives me insane. I push deeper, feeling her walls pulse around my finger, and I know she's close.

She gasps, her hips bucking against me, and I know she's on the edge. I don't stop, though-no, I keep moving, pushing her further, hitting that sweet spot again and again.

Her body shakes, her moans turning into screams, and I feel it-the moment she finally breaks apart beneath me. She screams my name, her back arching, and I can't help but feel a surge of pride, knowing I'm the one who made her feel this way.

"Fuck, Theo," she pants, still trembling. "Oh, god..."

I don't stop though. I can't. Not yet. Not when she's like this, not when I'm so damn close to losing control myself.

"You're doing so good for me, baby. Can you take one more?" I ask, my voice thick with desire as I watch her, waiting for her to tell me what she wants. I'm so close to losing control, but I need her to be ready, to want it just as badly as I do.

She doesn't even hesitate. Just whispers, "Yes, Theo. Please. Put another one."

I almost lose it at how perfect she sounds. She's begging now, her body still so tight, still so warm.

"Good girl," I murmur, sliding a second finger in slowly, feeling her body stretch and adjust to me. She gasps, her body tensing as I push deeper, her legs wrapping around me as she tries to draw me closer.

"Shh, it's okay," I soothe her, but I can hear the desperation in her breath. "You're doing great."

I start to move, both fingers sliding in and out of her, my rhythm slow but steady, giving her time to adjust, to feel every inch of me. Her hips roll to meet mine, and I know she's starting to lose herself in this just like I am.

"Fuck," she whispers, the sound of it shooting straight to my core. Her eyes flutter closed, her breath uneven as I hit that sweet spot again, making her gasp, making her legs tighten around me.

"Shit, Theo," she gasps, her head tossing back against the pillow. "I think... I think I'm-ah! Oh, god!"

"Are you close?" I ask, my voice strained, low. I can feel her insides tightening, building to something that's coming fast. I push deeper, hitting that spot again, needing her to come undone. "Do you want to come?"

She bites her lip, eyes clouded with desire, and then her voice trembles, almost a whisper. "Can I?"

God, the question nearly breaks me.

I swallow hard, taking a second to steady myself, because I can't let this moment slip. She wants this. She needs it. And I want to give it to her more than anything.

"Yes," I rasp, my voice barely above a growl. "Let go, baby. I want to feel you... feel it all."

She doesn't hesitate-she can't. She gasps, her body jerking against mine as she rides the wave, every inch of her shaking with the force of it. And I hold her, feeling the tension, feeling the release as she falls apart in my arms, all control slipping away.

I lean to kiss her one last time, savoring the taste of her lips, the way her body seems to melt into mine. Her breath is still shaky, like she's trying to regain control, trying to piece herself back together after everything that's just happened. But she's not pulling away. No, she's responding-her lips pressing back into mine, the way she sighs against me telling me everything I need to know. She wants this. She wants me.

It's like we've both stepped outside of ourselves, just living in the pulse of this moment. She's still so new to all of this, and I can't help but wonder how she's going to feel in the morning.

I can't tease her too much about this, but I hope she remembers it fondly. I hope she doesn't run away tomorrow like some of the others might have done. I'm not even sure what this means, where it's going-but hell, I want it. I want her to be here when the sun rises, even if I don't know where this is heading.

I pull back, glancing down at her. Her eyes are closed, but there's a softness to her face, a vulnerability she's not used to showing. Her body, however, tells me she's still very much aware of the situation. I notice the way her legs shift slightly, as if looking for more of me, and my gaze flickers down to my own body, the pressure building.

I glance around the room-her room. Damn, I need to get to mine. I've got to take a shower, and I need to clean her up, even though I know she's not going to remember much of this tomorrow.

I start to shift, ready to slip away, but then I feel her fingers curl around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

"Where are you going?" Her voice is low, thick with sleep but still tinged with something else-something I can't quite put my finger on, but it feels like she's trying to keep me here with her, even if just for a little longer.

I glance back at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before answering. "Oh, I need to check something. I'll be right back, okay?" I try to pull away, but her grip tightens, unwilling to let go just yet.

"You sure?" Her voice is low, almost uncertain, as if she wants to be asleep but can't quite bring herself to let go of the moment. She's not ready to face whatever this is, and I get that. Hell, I don't know how I'm supposed to handle it either.

"Yes, love," I reply softly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. I lean down, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand before standing, trying to make this moment as gentle as possible. "Get some rest."

She nods, barely, and pulls her arm away, curling into herself. That's my cue. I use the chance to slip out of her room quietly and head back to mine.

The second my door clicks, I rip off the rest of my clothes like they're suffocating me. My skin is burning, and I need a release-some kind of control, because right now, I've got none.

The cold water slams against my back the second I step into the shower, but even that doesn't do much to kill the heat pulsing through me. My hand grips the edge of the tile as I bow my head under the stream, water running down my face, my chest, but all I can feel is her.

Her moans. Her soft gasps. The way she said my name like it was the only word she knew.

And fuck-Her taste.

I close my eyes and it's like I'm back there. My fingers inside her. Her thighs trembling around my wrist. The way she looked at me like I just rewrote her entire universe.

With every memory, I grow harder. The kind of hard that aches. The kind that refuses to be ignored.

This is not healthy for me.

My breathing's ragged, each stroke on my cock becomes a desperate attempt to purge the heat still trapped in my veins. It's rushed, frenzied-like I'm punishing myself for needing her this badly.

My release hits fast and hard, snapping through me like a whip, my jaw clenched as I groan low and quiet, biting back the urge to say her name again like I did in her bed.

I rinse off quickly, running my fingers through my hair, then step out and wrap a towel around my waist. My chest still heaving as if that did anything to fix the craving.

Spoiler: it didn't.

I drag on a pair of sweatpants, the fabric barely doing anything to dull the heat still simmering under my skin. I look down, eyes catching the clothes I'd stripped off in a frenzy. I bend to gather them up and-

Shit. My jacket.

It's still in Soph's room.

I dig into the pocket of my jeans, phone buzzing to life the second my fingers wrap around it. The screen lights up with a few missed calls.

Logan. Jaxon.

And then-her. Mum.

My jaw tightens. The tension in my shoulders hits me like a slap. I press the phone face down on the dresser.

I'm not ready. Not to hear her voice. Not to feel that black hole of guilt she always manages to pull me into. I don't have the strength to feel like that version of myself right now. Not after what just happened. Not after Sophie.

Because Sophie made me forget.

For a few blinding, perfect minutes, she pulled me out of the pit. Out of the mess in my head. Out of the torment. I didn't feel broken. I didn't feel worthless.

I felt wanted.

I look around my room, suddenly suffocated by how quiet it is. How fucking empty.

I don't want to be alone right now.

It hasn't even been ten minutes. Ten goddamn minutes. And I already miss her.

Her warmth.

Her scent.

Her touch.

Her skin pressed to mine, soft and trusting and safe.

I grab a still-damp towel off the rack and run it through my hair before heading back down the hall, bare feet silent on the floor. Her room's still dark-of course it is. It's past midnight.

But I know how out of it she gets after-that. I know how heavy her limbs get when she's like that, how sleep drapes over her like a thick blanket she can't shrug off.

I push her door open gently, like I've done it a hundred times before, and close it behind me with a soft click. The shadows are deep and still. I turn on the small lamp by her desk, its golden glow filling just enough of the room to let me see her.

She doesn't stir.

Her breathing is steady, chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep.

I stand there for a second, just watching her. The way her cheek is pressed against the pillow. The way the blanket's fallen halfway down her back. So small. So wrecked. So perfect.

I gently peel the sheets out from beneath her, slow and careful not to wake her. She stirs just a little, a quiet sigh falling from her lips, but she doesn't wake.

Good.

She deserves sleep like this-soft, uninterrupted. Especially after what we just shared.

My eyes catch on her bra, discarded off to the side. She must've taken it off when I left. For a second, I just stand there, frozen. The thought of her under those sheets, bare... it does something to me. Something primal. Something hungry.

But I won't touch her. Not like that. Not when she hasn't said I could.

She trusted me tonight-and I'm not about to break that.

So instead, I walk back into my bathroom and grab a clean towel. Dampen it just enough, and come back with a soft blanket tucked under my arm. I work quickly but gently, cleaning her up like she deserves. My fingers graze over her soft skin as I wipe away the evidence of what we shared, and it takes every bit of willpower not to press my lips to her thigh, her stomach, her shoulder.

When I'm done, I pull the fresh blanket up, tucking it around her with care. It stops at her shoulders, and she's warm again, completely covered.

She lets out another soft breath, curling into the sheets like they're holding her together.

And damn it, if my chest doesn't squeeze at the sight.

I slip into the bed next to her, staying on top of the covers because she deserves that too-space, safety, a line I won't cross unless she invites me.

I don't feel the cold, not really. Not with her this close.

I rest my head on my arm and turn toward her. She's facing me, her mouth barely parted in sleep, one hand tucked under her cheek.

I should be sleeping.

I need sleep.

But here I am, wide awake, staring at the girl who just turned my entire fucking world on its head.

There's this warmth building in my chest. Slow. Intense. Steady. So deep it feels like it might crack me open from the inside out.

It scares me.

This... what I'm feeling. The way my chest aches like it's too full, like just looking at her could undo me.

It terrifies me immensely, the way she's starting to live in my thoughts-taking up space she never even asked for. If I think about it too long, I'll start pulling apart every glance, every moan, every soft whisper from her lips like it means something. Like it's more than just heat. More than comfort. More than one night of losing ourselves.

But maybe it is.

God, I don't know.

I'm too tired to spiral, too drained to start picking apart the details and reading into things that might not even be there. So instead, I let my body sink into the mattress, eyes growing heavy.

My breathing evens out as I lie there next to her, soaking in the warmth of her quiet presence.

I need this.

Just this moment.

This peace.

This break from the noise in my head, from the pressure, from all the expectations that claw at me the second I'm alone. Right now, there's no one yelling from the bench, no cameras in my face, no voices dragging me back to memories I'd rather forget.

It's just me and her.

And the slow, steady rhythm of sleep pulling me under.

And for once, I let it.

I let go.

I rest.

With her right beside me.