“Fuck,” I moan as I move my pelvis again, aiding in the chase of release.

His tongue forms into a point, and knowing that I’m close, he performs short, quick flicks against my clit at a pace so rapid that I can’t keep up with my fingers on my breasts, with my shallow breaths, with my ability to repress my orgasm until I can’t take it anymore.

My body is greedy, needy, and ready to take everything he has to offer. My hands fall to either side of me, my chest rises and falls, and my legs spread even wider as I arch against his mouth.

“Oh God,” I groan as I feel it, the beginning. A few more swipes, and I’m going to be gone. I’m so close, right on the edge.

Pulsing.

Wavering.

Hoping and praying he doesn’t pull away.

And when he pauses, I nearly scream, but when I glance down, I watch him place a gentle kiss right on my clit before he pushes me over the edge, making me scream into the silence of our house.

His mouth continues to work against my clit, so fast, exactly where I need it that I feel like I’m coming forever until my body slowly falls from the high of my orgasm.

“Fuck,” I whisper as I cover my face with my hands. When he stands up, I feel him move around the bed until he’s right next to me.

He tugs on my hand, forcing me to look at him and the very large erection in his pants. When our eyes connect, I notice the anger is gone and in its place is a soft, desolate, and controlled voice. “Thank you for tonight, Myla. I love you. I always will.” His appreciation never reaches his eyes or his beautiful smile but rather falls flat off the tip of his tongue before he moves away toward the door.

“Your shorts,” I say to him, feeling desperate for him to stay.

“Drop them off. I need to take care of things.” And then he leaves and heads up the stairs.

He’s going to take care of things . . . I know exactly what that means.

And I don’t know why, maybe because I still love him despite everything going on, maybe because I feel lost without him, but I want to hear. I want to listen to the moment he comes, knowing that this will be the last time we’re semi-together.

I rise from the bed, tie my robe back up, and grab the laundry basket I folded for him before all of this went down, including the lucky shorts.

I take it up to what I used to call our room and notice the door is not fully shut. Then I hear the shower. He’s going right to work. I sneak in and place the laundry basket on the bed before slipping in next to the opening of the bathroom. I lean against the wall and peer toward the shower where I spot his naked body immediately. He’s hunched over, one arm propped against the marble tile, the other pumping his cock. His back muscles are tense, his ass is clenched, and his powerful legs hold him up.