“Hey, Noah.” I do my best to not sound like I just ran a marathon. “Sorry about not getting in touch earlier. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last few days, and I wanted to tell you—it’s not working. You and I.” I say it all in one go, before he can interrupt. “I already told you at the end of last year. Keeping a relationship like ours going with states of distance just doesn’t work. I’m sorry.”

“So, that’s how it is, huh?” He sounds cold. “One week over there, and you’ve decided you’re too good for me?”

I catch Keller’s eye.

He was right. This is when the insults are going to start. And the suggestions, too.

To be fair, he’s right. But if I had been completely innocent in this, he would have said the same thing.

Rather than submit myself to all the verbal abuse he’s no doubt gearing up to give me, I reply, “That’s all I had to say. Take care,” and I hang up.

Cowardly, yes. But truly, there is nothing else I need to tell him. I ended it. He can accept it or rage, it won’t matter. Not this time.

My phone rings—the alarm to start getting ready for my baking appointment next door. Instead of paying attention to it, I climb over Keller’s naked body, aligning myself over his lap, placing the tip at my entrance.

“You need to be prepped for this. You need lube. I should make you come another time,” he says, frowning.

For once, he seems a little lost, his usual confidence and amusement entirely vanished from his expression.

“No,” I tell him, before lowering myself on his cock, my hands on his hard abs.

Fuck.

It’s huge. He wasn’t kidding when he said it would break me. I’m not even halfway down the shaft and I feel him pushing things inside me, into my belly. I grind into it, which doesn’t lessen the overwhelming fullness, but it somehow seems to shift some of my insides to allow me to sink farther.

Keller just watches me, staying very still. I get the impression it takes a certain amount of effort for him to avoid moving, but he does it. He lets me fuck myself onto his cock, until my ass sits on his lap. It’s not comfortable, it’s too full, but I fit him in.

Keller sits up, bringing a hand to my cheek. “Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me if it hurts.”

His hips start swaying, moving slowly. Frustratingly so. Something inside me, tight and demanding, wants far, far more. “It doesn’t hurt.” There’s pressure, yes, but everything in me tells me the answer is more of him, not less. “Please, Keller.”

“Anything,” he assures me easily, like I could have had this, had him all along.