DASHIELL
I whimpered softly as Alexander's hand slid under my shirt, his palm hot against my bare back. He kissed me deeper, tongue pushing into my mouth like he owned every inch of it. My knees felt weak. I clutched his shoulders, fingers digging into bare skin as I rocked against him, feeling how hard he was through the thin fabric of my pants.
"Alexander…" I gasped when he finally pulled back just enough for us to breathe, our lips still brushing.
He lifted me effortlessly, turning and laying me down on the bed. Before I could say anything, he was on top of me, pinning me with his weight, mouth crashing back against mine again.
His hand slipped under my waistband, wrapping around my cock. I moaned into his mouth as he stroked me slowly, thumb swiping over the leaking head.
"Alexander…" I gasped, hips bucking into his fist. "That feels… too good."
He kissed down my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "You're going to come for me," he murmured against my skin. "Then I'm going to fuck you until you can't think."
I whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair, tapping erratically against his scalp as pleasure built fast and overwhelming.
"I'm close," I whispered, voice wrecked. "Already…"
He stroked me faster, twisting his wrist just right.
"Come," he ordered, biting my collarbone.
I came with a moan, spilling over his hand and onto my stomach, body trembling beneath him.
Alexander watched me the entire time, eyes dark with satisfaction.
"Good boy," he rasped, kissing me softly as I came down.
Then he pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his lips curving into that familiar smug tilt.
He leaned down and brushed a quick, almost tender kiss across my mouth before rising from the bed in one fluid motion.
"I'm going to shower," he said, voice calm and even, as if the last few minutes hadn't left me wrecked and sticky.
I blinked up at him, chest still heaving, the evidence of what he'd done cooling on my stomach and chest. My brain felt foggy, slow to catch up.
"…You're leaving?" The words came out hoarse, surprised. "Just like that? After making me come?"
He smirked, already turning toward the bathroom. "Yes."
I stared at the ceiling, face burning. *Rude. So damn rude sometimes.* But there was no real bite behind the thought. I sat up with a sigh, the mess pulling at my skin. I hated being sticky.
I reached for the tissues on the nightstand and wiped myself down methodically—slow, careful strokes until every trace was gone and my skin felt clean again. I folded the used ones neatly and dropped them into the trash bin by the bed, the small ritual steadying me.
A few minutes later the shower shut off. Alexander emerged with a towel slung low on his hips, droplets still tracing paths down the hard planes of his chest and shoulders. He scrubbed another towel roughly through his hair, then tugged on loose black sweatpants and a simple gray tee that clung to his damp skin like it had been painted on.
He looked unfairly good. Always did.
I was still perched on the edge of the bed, tugging the hem of my shirt straight, when a cheerful knock sounded at the door.
"Dash? Alexander?" Selene's bright voice carried through. "Mom says dinner's ready! Come downstairs!"
I exhaled, pushing to my feet. "Coming!"
Alexander crossed to me and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from my forehead, his touch lingering a beat. "Ready?"
I nodded, sliding my hand into his. "Yes. But I'm still a little annoyed you just… left me like that."
His smirk deepened. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. "You'll recover."
We headed downstairs together, fingers laced.
The moment we neared the dining room, the warm scents wrapped around us—rosemary and garlic, buttery richness, the golden promise of fresh bread. My stomach gave a loud, appreciative rumble.
Mom glanced up from the table the instant we appeared, her smile blooming. "There you are." She set a heavy serving dish down with a soft clink. "I was about to send Selene up with a rescue team."
"I already volunteered," Selene announced proudly.
Dad chuckled from his chair. "Sit down before your mother starts threatening the rest of us."
I pulled out my seat and aligned it carefully with the table edge before lowering myself into it. Alexander settled beside me without a word.
Mom had outdone herself: herb-roasted chicken glistening with juices, creamy mashed potatoes, vibrant buttered green beans, honey-glazed roasted carrots, and a basket of warm dinner rolls nestled in a cloth.
"I remembered this is your favorite," she said, spooning a generous mound of potatoes onto my plate.
"It is." The words slipped out soft.
She smiled warmly. "I know."
Alexander reached for the water pitcher before I could and filled my glass first, then his own. The small, steady gesture settled something in my chest.
"Thank you."
He gave a single nod.
Mom watched the exchange with the faintest curve of her lips before serving Dad.
For a while the conversation stayed light and easy. Dad recounted a tense board meeting, Mom grumbled about traffic near the grocery store.
Dad's laugh rolled out rich and deep. Alexander's mouth twitched in quiet amusement. The knot of tension I'd been carrying in my shoulders eased another fraction.
It felt… normal. Comfortable. Like home.
Halfway through dinner, Selene suddenly straightened. "Oh."
She blinked, fork hovering. "I completely forgot."
Dad lifted an eyebrow. "Forgot what?"
"I got a message this afternoon." She looked straight at me, her usual brightness dimming into careful neutrality. "It's from Bianca."
The table quieted instantly, silverware pausing mid-air.
Selene continued gently. "She said she's coming to visit."
No one spoke for a long beat. Mom and Dad exchanged a quick glance.
"When?" Dad asked.
"Tomorrow."
Mom set her fork down with a soft click. "Well… she's your sister."
Dad nodded slowly. "If the two of you are comfortable with it, your mother and I have no objection." He looked first at me, then Alexander. "This is your home. The decision is yours."
My fingers tapped once against my thigh under the table. Bianca hadn't called or texted. Not once since the wedding. And now she wanted to drop in.
I glanced at Alexander. His face remained calm, unreadable, knife moving with the same careful rhythm as he cut another piece of chicken. No flicker of irritation, no hint of welcome. Nothing I could latch onto and that made it worse.
"I…" I hesitated, then pushed the words out. "I don't mind if she comes."
Silence stretched another second.
Alexander finally lifted his gaze from his plate. "If you're comfortable seeing her," he said evenly, "then she's welcome."
His tone gave nothing away.
I searched his face a moment longer, but there was nothing more to read. I nodded slowly. "All right."
Selene released a held breath. "I'll tell her tomorrow afternoon works."
Mom smiled, the relief visible in the softening of her shoulders. "Good."
Dad raised his glass. "Then let's enjoy tonight before tomorrow brings whatever it intends to bring."
I couldn't shake the quiet certainty that tomorrow would be anything but quiet.