Behind the Neighbor's Door - Part 13 (Patreon)

Sorry about all the endless delays. It has been really hard focusing lately. I'm sort of getting back to myself. Like I said, I'll focus the rest of January on fixing AYCJ, then I hope February turns into a regular month schedule wise. I may change a few things in March, but I haven't decided.

*

Nolan sat in his hotel room, looking out the window at El Paso below him, a small sea of twinkling lights, an endless sprawl of humanity that went on for as far as the eye could see, beyond El Paso even.

It was quiet here. The night was dark and still. He could hear the faint sounds of the city below, but they were far away, distant and muted.

Nolan took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head. El Paso wasn’t a big city, but was yet four to five times bigger than Courtington. But it wasn't home. It was far from home. It wasn't even that pretty, like Courtington was. Nolan smiled. Courtington was pretty because Grace took care of its public spaces, because she loved the town and did everything in her power to make it a nice place. And it was home because of Grace. Courtington was Grace.

He looked North East, imagining that he was looking at where Grace was, probably driving her excavator or her tractor, working as hard as he did, but in a different way. Nolan wondered if they could be considered a power couple, the two of them. They both worked their asses off, and they were both highly skilled in their respective fields.

His smile faded, as the realization came that he was still far from home, and that he still had work to do. He was starting realize that perhaps his big city dreams were just dreams. His ambition had changed over the last few months. Grace had become even more magnetic, magnificent, and other words that start and describe the same woman in glowing terms. Some would say it was a step back for a man to let their girlfriend explore her sexuality with other men, and Nolan also was on the more reserved side of things, but it had also transformed his woman into something more.

He looked down at his computer, his eyes falling on the image of Grace that he had as his desktop background. This was actually their longest time apart, even if it was just over the weekend, since they'd been together. Would this become a common occurrence with these folks in El Paso? He could surely bring Grace along but… it was El Paso.

And naturally, his mind drifted to the previous weekend, where Grace had snuck off to blow Nate. It still didn't sit right with Nolan. But perhaps not for the reasons he thought. It wasn't the sneaking part, or that it was a blow job. In fact, his value on a blow job increased his excitement and his jealousy, and that was what he got off on. No, it was that Grace had been naughty and he felt left out on the action. He still hadn't seen Grace and Nate doing anything. To him, it had all happened off-screen, only to be told afterwards by Grace in such detail that he could almost imagine it.

And that was a problem. Because he didn't want to imagine it. He wanted to see it. He wanted to watch it happen. He wanted to see his wonderful girlfriend, the star of his world, cheat on him, he wanted to see her body betray him as it yielded to another man. And he wanted to see her enjoy it, to see her enjoy Nate fucking her. He wanted to see Grace take a fat cock inside her pussy, and…

He sighed and rubbed his face, pushing down the guilt he felt for being away from her. For what felt like the hundredth time, he tried to get his mind off of Grace and onto the project. The guys who picked him up at the airport were nice people, and they immediately started chit-chatting about college football. Texas Tech had beaten Indiana pretty severely last season, and they joked that there would be a repeat this coming season. The friendly jabs were a good sign, and their responses to Nolan's own were as well. Then he pitched his favorite names for their brands, and they seemed to like all three. So the trip had been quite a success so far.

Then he had a dinner meeting with their marketing guy and their CEO. The CEO, a middle-aged woman, was nice, and she seemed to be a personable leader. She had a great smile, and she was easy to talk to. It was a bit awkward to talk about their company as they hadn't even a company name or even formed an LLC yet, but they paid their invoices and had hired Calhoun Holdings to help them establish themselves, so Nolan would work his nuts off for them. They were going to try a few things to test out the market, and they would see how it went from there. It was going to be a lot of trial and error, and Nolan knew that he would have to be flexible and patient.

Nolan leaned back in his chair, and he closed his eyes, his mind drifting back to Grace. He wondered what she was doing right now. She would be working, ever the restless but diligent one. She'd be sweaty, in need of a shower. He could almost imagine her stripping her work clothes, taking off her tank top, and pulling down her jeans. Her body was amazing, and he loved every curve of her. Nolan closed his eyes, and he could perfectly imagine her ass as she bent over to pull her pants down…

And his mind wandered further. He imagined her in her tight blue jeans that she always wore. The ones that hugged her hips, and showed off her ass so well. Too well. His mouth watered just thinking about sinking his mouth into the cleft of her ass when he got home. 

He thought to her last promise before he went. She'd keep this next week a secret from him, at least until the end of it, regarding what would happen between her and Nate. That meant if something happened that Nolan didn't agree with, he had no say in it. And it also meant that he had no control over what was going to happen. That loss of control, and that unknown, made him hot. Angry, jealous, but that thrill was… perhaps unhealthy.

In the darker corner of his mind, he was hoping that something would happen. Something that Grace would want to keep from him. Something that he would only learn about later. But how far would be too far? Where did this end? How much would he tolerate? He wanted Grace to fall into Nate’s clutches and surrender, for the temptation to be so great that she’d risk everything, that the pleasure and excitement would be so great.

Wasn't the point of all this for Grace to explore and have fun? He thought back to how guilty she had felt for sleeping with Nate the first time. She hated that she cheated on Nolan, but the pleasure was so undeniable. She had said that the best sex she had had was with Nolan... until Nate. That had made Nolan... conflicted. There was something so hot about knowing that your girlfriend, the love of your life, was being satisfied by another man. But there was also something so terrifying about it. Nolan wasn't sure what it was that scared him, but it was something.

He tried to put his mind back on the project. He looked at his notes, and he opened his laptop, and he got to work. But his mind wouldn't let him.

What would happen if they slept together again? Would she feel the same guilt? They had expanded their rule set so there was more room for her to explore, but also so she wouldn't feel that guilt so much. And more room for temptations to slip up, Nolan figured. But would those rules always dictate their lives? Did he even want that? It was a safe way to explore these early beginnings of infidelity, but... Nolan found that he didn't want them to be constrained by rules. He wanted them to do whatever they wanted, especially for Grace to do whatever she wanted. As long as he trusted her and she was his, and she came back to him, stayed with him, it would be fine. 

But again, the thing that was so potent about the rules was when Grace broke them. Not Nate, but Grace. That the temptation was too strong for her, and that she couldn't resist. That was the hottest part about all of it. But what longevity was there in that?

He sighed. It was pointless to try and get work done. He closed his laptop and stretched, yawning. He had to get some rest. He was supposed to head out to tour the facilities tomorrow morning. He had to be well rested.

He stripped and climbed into bed. He had been sleeping on the left side of the bed, closest to the window, and he looked over at the right side of the bed, and he imagined Grace lying there next to him. She was working now, but Nolan wondered what she’d do when the day was over and it was time to relax. It was the weekend, and now she didn’t have him to occupy her. He found himself wondering what she was doing right now. He wondered what she was thinking. He wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her.

*

Grace had been fixing something.

Not anything important — a hinge, maybe, or a gate that never quite closed the way it should. The kind of task she knew how to do without thinking, having done it a hundred times before. The ground was solid and firm beneath her boots, the air clear and bright, the sun warm on the back of her neck. She crouched, tested the give of the wood, tightened something that probably didn’t need tightening at all.

It was peaceful in the way work could be. Should be.

She knew what she was doing. Full control. She knew how long it would take, knew that when she was finished, it would hold.

Grace straightened, brushing dirt from her hands, and paused.

The air felt heavier.

Not hot, exactly — just close. Like weather gathering its weight. She shrugged her shoulder and dismissed it, stepped to the side to check the alignment again. Everything looked fine. Better than before.

She bent, reached—

— and the ground beneath her knees no longer felt like earth.

It was smooth now. Warm. Unyielding in a way dirt never was. The change didn’t frighten her at first; it simply confused her, a small tear in the logic of things. She pressed her palm down, expecting grit, expecting give, and found neither.

When she looked up, the fence was gone. She was standing on something broad and bare, boards stretching beneath her feet. Lights glowed overhead, soft and diffuse, casting warmth across her skin. A stage, she realized distantly — though there were no seats, no walls, no sense of an audience. Just space and light and faint awareness of being seen.

By no one.

Her chest tightened. She started to turn —

— and there was no room.

The space behind her was already filled. Occupied completely. The realization settled heavily, without shock, stealing the air from her lungs. Something Firm pressed along her thigh, anchoring her where she stood. Not forceful. Certain. As though resistance had never been expected.

Guilt flared immediately, sharp and hot.

This was wrong. The certainty burned through her even as warmth spread low in her body, unwanted and undeniable. Grace tried to step away and didn’t. Couldn’t tell whether she was being held or whether she’d already stopped trying.

Nolan’s name surfaced in her mind, bright and painful. A reminder of where she should be, of who she was betraying simply by standing still. The guilt tightened, rode every breath she took.

The presence behind her shifted.

Closer. Heavier. The pressure grew more deliberate, more encompassing, and her body responded despite her, breath catching, muscles loosening. She hated how easily it happened. Hated how the sensation blurred the edges of her thoughts.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

Her wrists lifted, guided without urgency, and she realized dimly that she was being positioned. Arranged. As if her body had been read correctly and placed where it belonged. The lights seemed to dim around the edges, the world narrowing to closeness and heat, and the steady insistence of being held exactly where she was.

The guilt held on, stubborn. It sharpened every sensation, refused to let her forget what this meant. What she was doing.

But the presence didn’t rush her.

It moved with a familiarity that unsettled her more than force ever could. The way the weight settled. The way the pressure adjusted in small, knowing increments. Her body recognized it even as her mind resisted.

The guilt began to thin.

Not vanish — just lose its edge. Each moment drew her deeper into warmth and motion, into the quiet certainty of being claimed by someone who knew how she responded.

Grace yielded before she understood that she had. Her body leaning back, accepting the contact, the rhythm that built slowly and inevitably. Shame flared weakly, then faltered, drowned beneath how right it felt.

Then the pressure changed.

The weight behind her lifted, redistributed. The rhythm broke, just for a moment, and something shifted around her with the most deliberate purpose. She was guided forward, then down, the boards warm and somehow soft beneath her as the presence settled over her instead of behind her.

The closeness intensified.

Now the weight pressed from above, heavier, more consuming. The sensation sharpened into something that stole her breath away entirely. Her body arched into it without thought, drawn into heat and motion, the last remnants of guilt dissolving as the certainty of who this was finally settled into her very bones.

Not a face. Not a name.

Just the unmistakable knowledge of him.

The way he fit. The way he moved. The way her body responded as though it had always known this would happen. The realization didn’t bring panic — it brought terrible, intoxicating relief.

This was already past stopping.

Her thoughts scattered, reduced to warmth and weight and the relentless pull of being overtaken. Time stretched, then collapsed, sensation bleeding into sensation until there was nothing else.

Then the rhythm changed, sharpening instead of deepening.

The weight shifted again, less seamlessness. The warmth faltered, became uneven, real in a way it hadn’t been before. Her breathing grew sharp and fast, her body still caught in the aftermath as awareness began to seep back in. Her eyes fluttered.

Light pressed against her lashes, pale and insistent, and she tried slowly, confusion blooming as the stage and the warmth and the certainty began to slip away…

*

Grace woke slowly, the way one does when sleep has not quite loosened its grip.

Her first thought was that the dream hadn't ended properly. That some part of it had followed her up to the surface, the head, the weight, the strange sense of being held in place. Her body felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with blankets. Too aware. Too full.

She inhaled sharply.

The room was dim with early morning light, pale and colorless, and for a moment, she simply lay there, staring ahead, trying to understand why her heart was already racing. Her thoughts felt thick, sluggish, as though she'd been pulled awake too quickly.

Then she became aware of the closeness.

Not just someone beside her — someone against her. Along her back. Around her. A presence that fit too precisely to be accidental. Her breath stuttered, and her body reacted before her mind could catch up, a traitorous response that made her stomach twist.

Oh god.

The realization crept in piece by piece, unwelcome and undeniable. The warmth wasn't imagined. The pressure wasn't left over from sleep. Something was happening, had been happening, and she was only just arriving in time to notice.

Nate.

The name landed in her thoughts like a dropped weight.

Guilt surged immediately, hot and sharp, cutting through the haze. Nolan's face flashed behind her eyes, vivid and painful, and for a second she felt sick with it. This wasn't just wrong, it was already past wrong. Already real. Already happening.

She tried to move and found that she didn't. Not because she was pinned, exactly — but because her body seemed caught between instincts, unsure which one to obey. Every muscle felt taut, suspended in that awful moment before decision.

Behind her, Nate shifted.

The movement was unhurried, familiar in a way that made her chest ache. He adjusted his position with the same easy certainty she'd felt in the dream, as though he knew exactly where she was and how she would respond. The contact deepened, became more encompassing, and Grace gasped softly before she could stop herself.

Her eyes squeezed shut.

This was a mistake. It had been a mistake last night, and it was still a mistake now — worse, because she was awake enough to know it. The guilt clung stubbornly, even as sensation flooded her, threatening to drown everything else out.

She should say something.

She should pull away.

She should do anything.

“Nate—” Whether he heard her or not, she moved sharply, twisting just enough to break the line of his body against hers. Not away. Not free. But enough to prove she could. “Nate,” she said again.

He didn’t pull away. He stilled, just long enough for her to feel it — the pause, deliberate and unmistakable.  He didn’t move. His hand remained where it was, steady and certain.

“If you want me to stop,” he murmured. “Say it.”

Grace took a deep breath. She looked back at him over her shoulder. Her cheeks were burning, but she met his gaze directly.

His eyes were dark and calm, heavy-lidded with sleep, and somehow they made her heart race even faster. She realized she was trembling. Not because she was scared, or unsure, but because her body was still fighting itself, trying to decide what to do.

If she moved, this would stop. This could end right here and now. At least for now.

But instead, she didn't move —  she stayed, caught between breath and heartbeats, aching, her body betraying her with every second that passed. The shame burned, then wavered, eroded by the relentless reality of how it felt — not just the physical closeness, but him. The way he moved. The way he seemed to read her without asking.

The guilt, like in the dream, began to thin, not disappearing so much as being pushed aside, overwhelmed by something heavier and more consuming, more immediate. Her thoughts fractured, broke apart into flashes and half-formed protests that never quite reached her mouth.

In the end, Grace didn't say anything.

Nate didn't look surprised. He smiled to himself, just barely, and shifted again, changing their position slightly, a better angle, or a dip of the hips, she didn't know... but he did. The movement drew a startled sound from her throat, but not one of distress. It was pleasure. Terrible, undeniable pleasure. The closeness was unmistakable, impossible to ignore, her body responding despite everything she had told herself.

"Good morning, beautiful," Nate whispered into her ear, refocusing her attention to the pleasant. Grace shivered. "You didn't tell me to stop, princess," he murmured. "Relax. I've got you."

Grace’s breath hitched, her mind scrambling to catch up as the last fragile barrier between sleep and waking finally gave way.

“Nate,” she gasped, eyes squeezing shut. “We can’t— I shouldn’t— This is—”

Nate's hips shifted, a small, deliberate adjustment, and Grace's protest cut off sharply. The words were gone. Just gone. Her body trembled, her thoughts scattered and lost in the rush of heat, in the relentless pull of being overtaken.

"Shhh," Nate whispered, drawing her in, and Grace's breath caught. "You're okay, princess. You're okay."

Grace's mind started to spin, and she remembered what had happened the night before. The realization of what Nate was doing under the covers right now. She could hear her own arousal from underneath the covers, and the feeling was just too overwhelming. How could her body betray her so thoroughly?

She shivered and moaned, then bit down to keep from making noise.

"That's it, princess," he murmured into her ear.

She whimpered, the feeling too intense for words, her entire body throbbing and aching in the wake of everything that had happened.

"There you go," he said. "That's my girl. I'll go a little faster and make you cum, alright?"

A soft shudder worked through her, and she felt herself nod weakly. "Yes," she whispered, not quite sure if she was agreeing with him or begging him to go on. It didn't matter, she supposed, since he would either way.

Nate started to work his thick cock deeper and faster into her, the head hitting places in her that she didn't even realize could feel this way.

Grace's hips twitched, her body still clinging desperately to his. "Fuck," she gasped.

He laughed quietly and kept going. Faster and deeper.

Her walls fluttered around his cock as it slid in and out of her.

"Yes," she panted. "Oh fuck, yes, keep doing that."

"I've got you, princess. You're almost there."

She whimpered again, this time more loudly, unable to hold herself still. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, don't—" she cut off abruptly.

She could feel her toes curling tightly. She closed her eyes to savor everything, her head rolling back against Nate's chest. Her pussy squeezed around his fat cock, and then all at once she came, her body trembling uncontrollably, and the noise that came out of her was beyond description, it was just raw ecstasy, and pleasure that washed over her like nothing else in this universe could have done. It almost sounded like pain. It wasn't. The sheets underneath her body were absolutely soaking with the combination of their fluids. The sounds coming from under the blanket had changed from a squish to more of a slosh.

It wasn't over, though. She knew it wasn't over.

"Ohhhh ffff..." The words were out before she could think better of them, a hoarse cry that was entirely beyond her control.

"Damn." Nate sounded a little shocked, which didn't make her any more self-conscious about it. In fact, the opposite. She wanted to apologize or explain, or at least try, but all she managed was a half-formed groan, a strangled attempt at words that never actually made it out of her mouth.

Her pussy squeezed around his thick member, which was pulsating with Nate's release. The sensation of his semen spewing into her core brought on another orgasm. It wasn't like a wave; it was like a hurricane, and there was nothing to be done other than to let it happen. Her entire body tensed, her back arched. Her toes were curling again, her nails digging into the mattress. Her jaw was slack. All the tension, the desperation that had been building in her, was released at once, her entire body shuddering as it all spilled forth, a torrent of pleasure that washed away all reason and resistance. And underneath it all, was Nate's grunting and panting in her ear, the sound of him losing himself inside of her. He pumped her full of him, and that feeling sent her reeling over the edge once again.

It felt like forever and also like no time at all before the tension began to ebb away. Grace let herself lean back as it did, breath shuddering out of her, muscles finally giving up their hold.

Nate groaned behind her, a long, low sound of satisfaction that sent an electric shiver up her spine. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, stroking slowly, almost absently, and the touch sent faint echoes of warmth through her skin.

Grace couldn't keep track of anything yet. Her breathing was rough and uneven, her heartbeat loud in her ears, her thoughts hazy and disconnected. Nothing quite felt real yet— just sensation, just heat, just the lingering awareness of how close he was. The very real weight of him inside her, his arm draped loosely across her. 

It shouldn’t feel real, but it was.

They lay there for a long time in the afterglow, both breathing heavily. Her body felt hot, and she felt drenched, as if she'd just run a marathon. Her chest heaved as she fought for air.

"Wow," Grace said quietly, still catching her breath.

"You okay?" Nate murmured.

Grace didn't answer right away. Not because she couldn't— because she didn't want to yet. Her body was starting to relax, and it was as if something snapped. Reality slammed down on her with sudden clarity, and it took her breath away, left her reeling from shock and nausea and something she couldn't quite identify as sorrow yet. Guilt rose up, threatening to overwhelm her, and she squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the sudden stinging behind her lids, the pressure building at the back of her throat.

What had happened?

She was in bed. With another man. Nolan... oh God, what would he say if he ever found out? If he saw what she had done…

It felt like a repeat of her thoughts from tomorrow, her pillow talk with Nate. It felt like no matter the amount of reasoning, sleeping outside her relationship was wrong, but yet she did it. Had enjoyed it, even. It was surreal how fast this could escalate.

But Nate was there in her bed. And her mind was elsewhere. Her body... her body had gone from zero to 100 in a flash.

"I cheated on him," Grace finally said.

Grace ran her hand over the sheets, closed her eyes, filled her lungs slowly, and let her breath go. Opening her eyes again, she was still Grace, lying there, looking out the window with her head resting on a foreign pillow on a foreign bed.

"God damn, princess, you make the hottest noises. That was amazing," Nate said, holding her close against him and fucking her gently while she recovered. He hadn't yet caught up on her distress. Nolan would've.

"Gracie, hey," Nate said, his hand caressing her hair. "Remember what we said yesterday. This is all within what's going to happen anyway. This was always going to happen. Nolan wants this, and if you ask him, even right now, if he'd want you to go all the way this week, I'll bet anything that he'd encourage you to keep going. You are not betraying your boy, princess."

"What's wrong with me?" She could barely speak. She wanted to die from embarrassment and from shame and from horror. Nate, Nate of all people had to witness this, the very guy that was now inside her. That could be rectified right away. "Could you... pull out?"

"Oh, of course, of course, princess," Nate whispered. She felt his hand slide off from around her chest, and he shifted his hips a little. His large cock slid from inside of her, and Grace almost moaned at the sudden empty sensation it left.

"I know. I'm just a mess in the morning," she whispered, finally getting control of herself. Nate was right. But would good sex be worth it if she felt like shit afterwards every time? However, good sex outside wasn't the only thing that worried her... there was more, and that scared her more than anything. She wasn't sure yet what that was... No, she couldn't think that way. She just had to let go. And be careful with letting go too much. Ugh, it was hard to find a balance.

Grace sat up in the bed and was mortified as she felt his seed begin to spill out of her pussy. It felt like so much. How long had he been in her while she had been sleeping? "Fuck. Good morning, I guess," Grace finally managed to say.

"I found a princess in my bed, how could I not take advantage of it?" He said with a hint of a chuckle.

Grace slapped him playfully on the chest. "This is serious, though. I slept with you. I have no idea how I feel about that."

"I think you felt really good about it, just now," Nate grinned, and Grace couldn't help but chuckle.

Just now. Just now, she could stop. She could stop everything she'd let herself keep doing. Sit up. Get dressed. Draw a line and call it restraint.

But that didn't mean what had happened this morning — and yesterday — would be undone. Stopping now would be nothing but pretending. Hollow.

The thought unsettled her more than it steadied her. Not because she didn't know she should pull back, but because she could already feel how easily she wasn't. How the moment stretched instead of snapping, how his presence dulled the edge where there should have been one.

She didn't know yet what that meant. Only that whatever this was becoming, she was already listening.

It was already in motion.

Nate sat up in the bed and looked at her, his face full of concern and tenderness. His dark eyes sparkled in the dim light from the window. He cupped her cheek gently with one hand, brushing his thumb along the soft curve of her jawline. "Grace," he murmured, his voice low and gentle, "I know that this might lead to our little thing being over, I mean, who knows what happens when you tell Nolan... but what do you say that we use this final week before our date, before the moment of truth, to really go out with a bang?"

Grace bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She wanted to, she knew she wanted to. Just the proposal of 'going out with a bang' was an arousing prospect. But... How did two wrongs make a right? How was there logic to this? Wouldn't that make it worse?

"I don't know..." she said quietly. “I’m not saying yes. I’m just… not saying no.”

Grace exhaled slowly and the moment stretched, unfilled. No promise was made, and no refusal either. Her breath slipped out of her, slow and unguarded, and the tension she’d been holding didn’t return. The pause lengthened. Grace met his gaze, waiting and said nothing.

She thought of the dream she had just had, the feeling of the weight of him, the closeness and the warmth and the certainty of him. Of being held exactly where she was meant to be. Of knowing that she was already his. She shivered. 

"I'm just scared of how far I will let myself fall into this..."

"I'll be there to catch you," Nate said.

Grace's breath hitched. It was a cheesy line, but she believed it. Nate was a man of his word. She knew he'd be there for her.

She swallowed. "Okay..." She nodded slowly, her eyes meeting his. "Okay. But no promises, alright?"

"None needed. Just tell me when to stop, okay?"

"Okay."

They looked at each other, neither one moving, and then Nate leaned in and kissed her softly. "You're incredible," he murmured, his hand tracing lazy circles on her belly. "Absolutely fucking incredible."

 "You're not so bad yourself," she teased, but her voice held genuine affection. As morning light continued to filter through the blinds, casting golden stripes across their naked bodies, Grace felt a strange sense of peace settle over her – the lingering doubts about what this meant for her relationship with Nolan momentarily silenced by the contentment of the present.

Eventually, he rolled away from her, getting out of bed.

"Am I sensing that aforementioned breakfast?" she asked playfully. Nate winked at her as he got dressed. "Mind if I take a quick shower first?" she asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

"Be my guest," Nate replied, his gaze lingering on her as she climbed out of bed, admiring the way the morning light played over her naked form. She stood for a moment, her hips swaying gently from side to side, before turning to head for the bathroom. Nate's eyes were drawn to her ass, round and toned, the faintest pink handprint still visible on one cheek from their morning activities.

Grace looked over her shoulder, catching Nate's gaze. She smirked and turned back towards the bathroom, adding an extra sway to her hips as she walked, her long blonde hair swishing across her back.

When she reached the door to the bathroom, she paused, one hand resting on the doorframe. She looked back at him again, her blue eyes sparkling with that underlying power that had captivated him the first time they'd met. "Enjoying the view?"

He grinned, his own dark eyes twinkling mischievously. "Always," he replied, his deep voice full of warmth and admiration. Grace bit her lip, holding his gaze for a moment longer before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Nate with a lingering sense of her presence.

She closed the bathroom door, a soft laugh escaping her lips at Nate's typical response. Inside, the shower was a welcome refuge, the hot water washing away the remnants of last night's... events, the feeling of being claimed.

*

As she washed her body, Grace found her thoughts drifting back to Nate's proposal, to make their remaining days before their big date memorable ones. The idea stirred something bright and restless in her, her mind filling with images of what could happen, of pleasures she knew herself well enough to want.

There was risk in it, she knew that. Not in the sex — Grace could handle sex — but in the way he drew her in, in the strange gravity she felt when she thought of him. It wasn't fear exactly. It was the awareness that she was stepping somewhere deeper, somewhere she hadn't fully mapped yet.

"Ugh," Grace grunted, more annoyed than anything else.

Grace caught her reflection in the mirror, and even through the mist she saw the same Grace who had always been there. Confident. Assertive. Aware of her effect on men—and of the work she'd put into making her body what it was.

This wasn't just physical. She was choosing. Still in control of herself. Whatever happened couldn't be undone— and maybe she didn't want it undone— but she was still her own agent. Wanting Nate wasn't something happening to her. It was something she was deciding.

Turning slightly, she noticed faint pink marks where his hands had held her earlier. She remembered the weight of his grip at her hips, firm enough to leave traces behind.

She hadn’t pulled away.

She traced her fingers over the faint marks, her skin tingling at the memory of his touch, the way he had taken her with such passion and intensity. A shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps erupting on her skin as the image of him came to her unbidden, the way he had looked at her, the way he had felt inside her.

Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening, the ache between her legs growing stronger as anticipation spread through her, the day and days ahead felt open, waiting to be explored, charged with possibility.

Her smile from earlier widened, her excitement building as she considered the thrill. Whatever came next, she knew one thing was for certain: she would own it.

Grace shut off the water and stood for a moment in the quiet that followed, letting the warmth soften the edges of her thoughts. The steam was clinging to her skin, no doubt creating a stunning visual— had someone been there to see it. But it was her alone in there. The heaviness from earlier had loosened its grip. The day no longer felt broken, just charged, like something had been set in motion and dared her to keep up. The day felt different.

She dried off slowly, deliberately. When she wiped a clear streak through the fogged mirror, she found herself there again. Solid. Familiar. Not a woman scrambling for footing, not someone diminished by a choice. Grace. The same eyes. The same spine. The same private certainty that she could live with what she wanted. 

Whatever came next she’d handle it. That didn’t mean she had to rush or repent. If there were consequences, she’d face them. If there was guilt, she’d carry it. Neither of those meant she had to fold into shame.

She wrapped herself in the towel, and stepped out into the hallway. The apartment felt awake now. Familiar, almost. She had, after all, spent enough time here by now. Somewhere ahead, she heard movement. Cups clinking, a drawer closing. The kitchen. Of course.

Breakfast.

Grace almost felt bad. Almost.

By the time she reached the living room, Nate was there, barefoot, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand, light steam and the smell of coffee rising from it. Now Grace almost felt bad again, as she could really use a cup of black coffee. Nate looked up when he heard her enter, his gaze flicking over her and her lack of anything resembling proper clothing, not hiding his appreciation, before settling on her face. He smiled, a slight, subtle expression, and gestured to a cup beside him.

“This is something I could get used to,” he mused. “Coffee?”

“No thank you,” Grace said, not even addressing the first part of his… ‘greeting.’

“You look like you’ve made up your mind,” he said, his voice giving away his confidence. It amused Grace as much as it intrigued her.

Grace snorted softly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“How can I not? You’re parading around in my apartment like it’s your own, in nothing but a towel?” Nate said, giving her another one-over with his dark eyes.

Grace snorted softly. “Don’t read too much into it.”

He smiled anyway, slow and pleased, as if he planned to. “Too late.”

She crossed the room to grab her things, moving easily, unhurried. She could feel his attention tracking her. Not predatory, not passive. Present. Waiting to see what she’d do next. Which was, in a literal sense, to get dressed.

“I’ve got ballet,” Grace said, mostly to herself, looping her bag over her shoulder.

Nate pushed off the counter and followed her toward the door. Not crowding her, no, just close enough to be felt. “I could drive you,” he suggested, all easy confidence, like it was a harmless offer. Grace knew better. To think, she used to loathe that confidence in him. Now, however. “I’ll behave.”

Grace paused, one hand on the handle. She looked back at him, an eyebrow lifting. “Absolutely not.”

He laughed under his breath. “Had to ask.”

Grace smiled to herself as she shoved her feet into her shoes. She opened the door, then glanced over her shoulder again, her expression calm, amused, entirely her own. “Behave.”

Nate’s smile sharpened into a grin. “You know I won’t.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

Grace stepped out into the hall without waiting for a reply, the door closing behind her with a quiet finality. The air outside felt cooler, clearer. Cleaner, the way outside air always was. Grounding. 

As she headed toward her own apartment just next door to grab her training clothes, Grace felt light on her feet. Centered. Composed. Already thinking ahead.

*

Nolan sat at the airport, looking up at the board where all the different flights were listed. His flight was, for once, not delayed. Which meant that soon enough, he would be back where he belonged.

The trip had been a huge success. While he talked and pitched his few meager ideas, it became very apparent that these champs wanted to stay with Calhoun Holdings to the bitter end. What warranted this was hard to say. Josh was a powerful figure, and perhaps the allure of being under his wing, as he was an upcomer in this world, was something that appealed to them. Or maybe they liked the consistency as long as there were no direct flaws. Either way, from Nate almost fucking up this contract to Nolan saving it. That was the verdict, and a verdict that Nolan could live by.

While waiting, Nolan picked up his phone. It was a force of habit by now. He hadn't heard from Grace in a minute. Sure, there were time differences, and yeah, she had said she wanted to keep him in the dark a bit, but he didn't know she'd be this... thorough. A secret here, a withheld truth there, but now it had been almost a whole day since he had heard from her. He had asked how work went, she replied, and that was it.

Perhaps her phone was charging in her shed at work, and she had left it behind. Nah. There was one possibility, of course, but being in public, Nolan felt like he had to stay clear of that possibility. No, that wasn't why. He was terrified of that possibility. Grace had been so close to slipping up the last time she was at Nate's, and now Nolan was miles upon miles away, with Nate just next door. The tension between them... was real, it was thick, it was electric. Nate certainly wouldn't have any reason to abide by the rules... but like before, Nolan thought about Grace being the one caving…

What was it about that that scared Nolan so much? He wanted her to cross lines, to fall for the temptation, to be seduced, but yet, he had, before he left, told Grace not to fuck Nate, even though part of him wanted exactly that. 

When he had asked her not to, Grace had said she wouldn't. Then she'd added that Nate could be very convincing.

That twisted the knife in his chest even further. 

Because that meant she had already leaned toward it. Not slipping. Not losing control. Choosing.

And if she chose it, there would be no resistance to blame. No rule to hide behind.

Nolan knew Grace. Knew how deliberate she was, how stubborn, how incapable of being maneuvered into something she truly didn't want. 

And yet, Nate would have her. 

He knew which buttons to push. Knew how to draw that part of her forward. For a moment, Nolan's mind reached for inevitability, for fate, for anything that made it feel out of their hands.

That was cheap.

No.

 If Grace crossed the line, it wouldn't be because the rules failed or the moment ran away from her. It would be because she wanted Nate enough to step over it herself.

And that was the part that Nolan couldn't soften. The idea that she might not regret it at all. 

That she might feel satisfied instead. And not just in a physical, immediate sense.

This wasn't what it was supposed to be.

Almost without thinking, Nolan checked his phone again. 

He wanted to call Grace, to hear her voice, to collapse and make the not-knowing stop.

He hesitated. If they were together, if he was caught up in him, he didn't want to interrupt.

The thought hit him harder than it should have. His heart kicked violently against his ribs, breath catching, nausea rising sharp and sudden.

Not interfere. Interfere what?

Heat climbed through his chest, fast and unwelcome, settling low in his body before he could stop it. Like a masochist, he forced himself to consider the possibilities, to think of what that might look like. What they might be doing, if he called her right now. If he called and she didn't pick up…

Perhaps being out in public was a blessing in disguise; he was forced to think, not run off and get off, then wallow. And while perhaps the silence wasn't intentional on Grace's part, it was certainly making things worse for Nolan. And by worse... Well…

The thought didn't finish itself.

Nolan swallowed and forced his attention back into his body, into the chair beneath him, the hum of voices and rolling suitcases around him. Someone laughed nearby. An announcement crackled overhead.

He looked down at his phone one last time.

He could call her.

He could break the silence, reclaim the ground he felt slipping under him. Demand reassurance. Demand truth. She'd give it to him.

But he didn't. 

Slowly, deliberately, he locked the screen and slid the phone into his pocket.

Whatever Grace was doing, whatever she chose, it was hers to choose. He had asked for this, for her to have this freedom, for them to explore this space, to live with this tension. Reaching in now would only cheapen it, turn desire into panic, curiosity into control.

His chest still felt tight. The heat hadn't vanished. Neither had the fear.

But beneath it all was something steadier.

Acceptance didn't feel calm. It felt earned.

When his boarding group was called, Nolan stood, shouldered his bag, and joined the line without looking back.

*

Entering the apartment, Nolan was finally home. It was late. Way too late. He was tired, beaten, but happy to be home. Walking through their little hallway, out toward the living room, he heard soft breathing, the kind that came with sleep. As he rounded the corner, he saw Grace sleeping there on the couch. In nothing but an oversized t-shirt and presumably panties. It was way past her usual bedtime, and she had work in the morning, yet she had probably stayed up waiting for him. 

Grace looked like Grace still. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Her long blond hair was sprawled out over the couch cushions. Her face looked peaceful as she slept, no stress lines visible. She was in her home environment, no need to act for anyone, no need to be the strong girl everyone admired and looked up to. She was just her.

Seeing her like this made something in Nolan's chest loosen.

Not relief, no, something steadier than that.

She looked like herself. Peaceful. Unguarded. At home in her own skin. Whatever had happened while he was gone, it hadn't marked her in any way he could see. She hadn't carried it into this moment. She was still Grace, curled up on their couch, waiting for him.

And that mattered.

He loved her with a quiet intensity that surprised him, how deep it ran even now, maybe deeper because of the distance, because of everything he'd let himself imagine. Loving her didn't feel fragile. It felt durable.

If there were signs, he would notice them. He trusted that about himself.

And if there weren't, then this was what trust looked like — not certainty, not answers, just choosing to interrogate the moment.

He didn't need proof. He didn't need reassurance.

He believed her — and more than that, he believed in her.

Nolan dropped his bags to the floor. He walked up to the couch where she lay and bent down beside her. "Hey babygirl," he said, putting his hand on her cheek.

Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn't wake.

Nolan gave her a few light strokes on the cheek. While it had been a while since Nolan had done any physical labor, was able to gently lift Grace off the couch. She groaned softly but didn't wake. Her head was resting against his chest as he carried her to their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He laid her down on the bed gently. He threw the blanket across and crawled into bed beside her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close, kissed the back of her head, and drew in the smell of her shampoo from showering after ballet, the scent filling his nostrils.

Perfection.

Morning arrived quietly.

Not dramatically. Not with revelation. Just light creeping through the blinds in thin, pale bands, dust floating lazily in the air like it always did. Nolan woke to it before his alarm, his body still heavy with the stresses of travel, muscles stiff from bad sleep and worse chairs. For a moment, he lay there disoriented, the low hum of the trees outside blowing gently, the odd car driving past grounding him back into place.

Home.

Grace wasn't in bed.

That registered slowly. Not alarmingly. She wasn't a still sleeper; she never had been. She rose early during the weekdays, as she was always the first one out of the door, eager to get going, always needing those extra ten minutes on her feet to get going. Nolan smiled faintly into the pillow before the rest of the thought caught up with him.

Monday.

Back to the salt mines.

Nolan rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The smell hit him next. Coffee. Strong. Fresh. Real. It curled into the bedroom from the open door like a tether, pulling him from his slumber, elevating to being fully awake.

She was up. Moving. Existing.

And that mattered more than he'd expected it to.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded out into the hallway. The apartment felt lived-in in that significant way, it only ever did when Grace was awake first. Quiet, but purposeful. A cupboard closed softly. The kettle clicked off. The faint scrape of ceramic on wood.

Grace was at the counter when he rounded the corner into the kitchen, wearing the same shirt from last night. It was one of his old ones. It hung off her loosely, sleeves rolled, the hem brushing mid-thigh. Her hair was still damp, tied up haphazardly, a few strands escaping the cling to the back of her neck.

She looked... normal.

Not guarded, not distant. Not glowing with guilt or marked by either. Just Grace, standing in their kitchen, pouring coffee while looking amazing like she'd done a thousand mornings before.

For reasons Nolan couldn't immediately articulate, as he wasn't fully awake after all, that unsettled him more than any dramatic confession would have.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Grace glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Not big, nothing performative about it, just recognition. Relief. Happy to see him. "Hey, handsome. You're home."

"Got in late," Nolan said, stepping closer, close enough to playfully bump her with his hip. She didn't stiffen. She didn't move away. Good.

He reached for a mug. Their hands didn't touch, but the space between them felt charged anyway, awareness threading itself between muscle memory and something newer and sharper.

"You look tired," she said, gently pushing the mug toward him across the counter.

"Worth it," he replied. "The trip went well."

"Good," Grace said. "I figured. You're Nolan after all."

He watched her over the rim as he took his first sip. She leaned back against the counter now, arms crossed loosely, hips mushed, eyes on him. Not nervously. No. Curiously.

There it was.

The shift.

Grace tilted her head slightly. "Busy weekend."

It was nothing Barely a sentence. She said it the same way she might comment on the weather or a long workday. But Nolan felt it immediately. The subtle, visceral pull low in his stomach, heat tightening where it shouldn't have. She had said she would tease, that she would hint.

Nolan kept his face neutral. Deliberately so.

"I can imagine," he said lightly.

Her mouth curved slightly. Just a little. And so did he.

Grace turned back to the counter, reaching for the sugar, unhurried. Nolan tracked the movement despite himself, the way her weight shifted, how comfortable she was in her own skin. No hesitation. No apology.

That was the point, he realized.

If something had happened, Grace wasn’t treating it like a mistake. That was the difference. She wasn’t bracing. She wasn’t apologizing. She was letting him feel it — and decide what to do with it. He had pushed hard before, and it backfired. He'd be her rock, and trust that Grace would… reward him for it later.  

A small smile crept across his stubbled face, looking at her perfect ass. Heh. Now, that would be a perfect reward.

"Did you sleep any good while I was gone?" Nolan tried.

Grace paused, spoon hovering. Then she smiled to herself, small and private. Nolan didn't have to see it to know it. “I slept… really well.”

She didn’t look at him when she said it. Didn’t need to.

Nolan exhaled sharply, letting the sensation roll through him instead of resisting it. Jealousy. Curiosity. Want. All braided together in a way that felt dangerous if he examined it too closely. So he didn't.

Instead, he reached out and brushed his thumb along her wrist. A reminder. She didn't pull away. Another confirmation.

"Good," he said simply. "You deserve it."

She looked up at him then. Really looked. Searching for something. Tension, maybe. Reproach. A crack she could press into. She didn’t find one. Something in her expression softened. Not relief exactly. More like satisfaction.

"I missed you," she said.

And that, Nolan knew, was true regardless of everything else.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, breathing her in. Soap, coffee, and purely Grace.

"I'm glad you're home."

They stood like that for a moment longer than necessary. Then Grace straightened.

"Is that all I get?" she teased. "A kiss on the top of my head?"

Nolan chuckled. "Not good enough, eh?"

She stepped closer instead of answering, closing the space she'd been carefully maintaining all morning. Not rushed, not needy, just deliberate. Her fingers brushed his chest lightly. Then rested her hand on him. Then smiled, gently rubbing Nolan.

"I stayed up," she said. "Waited for you."

"I know," Nolan replied.

"And then I got up early," she continued. Nolan nodded, as one does. "Made coffee. Got ready without making too much of a ruckus so I wouldn't wake you."

He watched her, feeling his pulse going a bit faster. "You didn't have to," Nolan insisted.

Grace smiled.

"I wanted to."

Nolan exhaled slowly.

"I know," he said.

She leaned forward then, her lips brushing his cheek, lingering just close enough to make the touch meaningful before she pulled back again. "Good," she said simply, smiling to herself. "Glad that's sorted."

He was still smiling when she stepped back. Still watching her. There was something new in her expression, something brighter, like she'd made a decision about how to carry this, whatever it was. He wanted to ask. Wanted to push. But that would mean picking it up himself, taking the burden back.

Nolan didn't. He trusted her.

He trusted her.

The realization settled over him like a warm blanket, calming him instantly. He wasn’t afraid anymore. No more doubts or second-guessing himself. He had been on the fence about what he wanted, but now, seeing her, knowing her, he was certain.

Grace topped off her mug with more coffee, then set the pot down on the counter beside her. She had let a small silence linger. Satisfied with the result, she turned and smiled at Nolan.

"I'm proud of you, you're taking everything so well," she said.

"Take what?" Nolan tried, and Grace bit her lip.

"Nice try," she mused. "Sooo, wanna be late for work?"

Nolan's breath caught, and he took a step closer. Grace was still biting her lip, looking up at him as he looked back down at her, hunger and desire in his eyes. Yes, trust and calm were there, but just beneath the surface, Nolan was desperate for Grace. Always hungry, always willing to... serve.

"I've got a big meeting later today, you know," Grace said. "So I can't be too late."

"Yeah?" Nolan said, snaking his arm around her, finding her ass as soon as possible, pulling her toward him. "Fuck, I've missed this."

"Is that all you've missed?" Grace challenged. "Kiss me like you mean it. You've been gone a whole weekend, and you're going to make me leave without a proper kiss? I'm going to be so unfocused."

Nolan didn't resist the grin. "Don't want to throw you off your game, do we?"

Grace smirked and kissed him, soft at first, then with a playful, deliberate flick of her tongue. He let out a breath, felt her hand settle on his chest, the warmth of her palm tangible through his shirt. It was impossible to not let his hands find her flawless ass underneath the shirt, cupping each cheek in each hand. 

When they broke apart, Grace stepped away, picking up her mug from the counter. She leaned back against the counter, nodding toward the floor, a challenge in her gaze. Nolan got down on his knees, right there in the kitchen. 

Grace lifted one delicious thigh and draped it over Nolan's shoulder, the shirt lifting a tiny bit as well. "Go on," Grace said. "Show me I've been missed."

Nolan didn't hesitate, didn't resist the pull. He slid her tee up a bit and dove in without hesitation, without any pause, and it felt right.

Grace made a soft, pleased sound as he worked her clit with his tongue. She tasted familiar, and yet it felt new, the tension of the last few days making everything sharper, brighter. Nolan didn't think about the why or the how. He focused on the now, the feeling of her thigh tensing under his hand, the way her breath hitched when he hit the right spot.

"That's what I've been missing... How are you so good at that?" Grace complimented, gripping his hair with one hand, sipping her coffee with the other. "Fuck..."

He didn't stop. He didn't pull back. He didn't pause to ask questions or demand answers. He just kept going, letting the sensations wash over him, letting the moment stretch out until it became the only thing that mattered.

And Grace... Grace responded. Her hips rocked against him. Her fingers tightened in his hair. She didn't hold anything back. She gave him everything, and that felt like a reward in its own way, like a small, private victory that was just theirs.

Fuck, this was heaven.

She came hard and fast, her body tensing around him, her thighs shaking slightly. Nolan gripped her other thigh and threw it over his other shoulder, holding her in place with his hands so he could keep her steady. He had her pinned against the kitchen counter now, and Grace couldn't escape even if she wanted to. One hand was buried in Nolan's dark hair, tugging, pulling, and encouraging. The coffee cup was set aside; she had no use for that at the moment, her free hand was exploring the kitchen island for support.

"Fuck, I needed this," Grace breathed, not quite coming down from her high. "Don't... stop..."

She didn't need to say more; she was still holding onto Nolan's scalp with a steely grip, ensuring he would obey. Nolan obliged eagerly, his face buried between her thighs. She was dripping wet, his nose was buried in her pussy, taking her clit between his lips and licking, flicking it, and applying gentle pressure.

"Fuck, yes..." she gasped as Nolan hit all the right spots. "More. More!"

His hands slid up her legs and gripped her ass cheeks tightly, lifting her off the ground as her thighs clamped down on his face, holding him firmly between her legs. Grace was practically sitting on his face now, and Nolan was eating her with even more enthusiasm, spurred on by her eager response. She had been the one who had started this off by wanting him on his knees and servicing her, but it felt as though he needed this as much as she did. 

Grace's second orgasm hit her even harder than her first one. Her entire body tensed up as she let out a strangled scream. Her fingers curled into the back of his scalp, and Nolan had to use both arms around her waist and hook her to stay close. He felt her shudder and shake on top of him, her thighs clamping down even harder, and he could hear her moan his name, over and over.

Eventually, the quaking stopped, and she relaxed her thighs, allowing Nolan to ease her down to the floor again. He was still on his knees, but now she could face him directly. Her chest heaving and she looked completely wrecked. Nolan couldn't help but feel proud. "I love you so fucking much. That was fucking amazing, Nolan..."

Grace grinned wickedly at him, and clearly not done, she turned around, now leaning over on the counter, her elbows resting on top of it, sticking out her ass to him, wagging it from side to side invitingly. Nolan didn't need more incentive. Grace gasped as he buried his face between her legs from behind, and soon she was gripping the counter's edge, moaning softly as his tongue slid back inside of her.

They were back on familiar ground again.

As he knelt behind her, worshiping her with his mouth, there were no doubts or questions in his mind. No jealousy, no uncertainty, nothing but pure adoration as Grace arched back, grinding her ass against his mouth as his tongue delved deep into her pussy.

"Good boy," she breathed out, her voice unsteady. "My ass too."

And, without any reservations, Nolan was more than happy to oblige. Grace was on a mission to get absolutely riled up for the rest of her day.

"Ohhh," Grace sighed, her legs going slightly wider apart, allowing Nolan to bury his tongue in her ass with ease. He licked and probed, his hands reaching up to grip her thighs, holding onto her tightly as her head swam with the pleasure she was feeling. It wasn't often Grace let Nolan eat her ass, or ass play in general, but god damn did he love it. And it showed, the way he went to town, his tongue going wild inside her tight hole.

Grace let herself lie on the counter more or less, letting Nolan work, his tongue exploring her depths, his fingers digging into her skin. Her knees went weak, and she almost collapsed on top of him, only saved by her man's face and strong arms.

"Oh, shit, I'm cumming," Grace said, the words barely a whisper, her head spinning. Nolan responded eagerly, his tongue sliding in and out of her ass as she bucked her hips against his face, using his thumb on her clit, her juices dripping down his chin as her orgasm crashed through her body, leaving her gasping for air. "You... fucking... UGH!"

Grace closed her eyes and let her body go limp as Nolan held her up. Her breathing was labored, and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. She felt completely spent, exhausted in the best way possible. She opened her eyes to see Nolan standing over her, looking down at her with concern written on his face.

"You okay?" Nolan said.

Grace nodded weakly and smiled, her eyes fluttering shut again. "Three times in less than twenty minutes."

"Better than a kiss on top of the head?" Nolan teased.

Grace chuckled. "Yeah, that'll do it." She pushed herself up and stood on shaky legs, reaching out to Nolan to steady herself.

"Wow. You really know how to show a girl a good time. Good to have you home. I missed this," she said, running her hands over his chest.

Nolan smiled and kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers. "I missed you too," he murmured.

Grace leaned into him, her arms wrapping around him, her face buried in his chest. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. "I needed this."

"I know. Me too," he replied. "In fact, when I get home from work–"

"Yeah?"

"I want you on the bed. Prone on your cute belly, and naked," Nolan said, knowing that Grace loved it when he talked like that to her. She was a woman who liked to be in control in most aspects of her life, and she also had the power in their relationship. But it didn't mean that she couldn't or didn't want to indulge.

"Is that so?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah," Nolan said, squeezing her ass. "Your ass is mine tonight."

"Mmm," Grace hummed. "I like the sound of that."

Nolan leaned down and kissed her. "Me too."

Grace bit her lip. "I can't wait. I'm all yours."

Nolan grinned. "Damn right."

Grace looked over at the clock. "I'd reciprocate, but I've got that meeting today, and you're already late... so..." she said, kissing his cheek before moving away from him.

"Fuck," Nolan groaned. "You're gonna leave me like this?"

Grace was already halfway toward the bedroom to get dressed, not even answering. Nolan was blue balled, but he also loved it when she was this demanding. Damn. What a woman. Just took what was hers and left to move on with her day.

Grace paused at the door, hand on the frame, looking back at him. Calm. Composed. Kind.

"Nolan?"

"Yeah?"

Grace smiled slowly.

"Try not to drive yourself crazy."

Then she left to get dressed. Nolan sighed. Yeah, he was late, so he'd better get going.

*

Grace felt so incredibly lucky to have Nolan. That morning, he did everything right. He let her have her space, he accepted the dynamic, and didn't push more than just a bit of teasing. She understood that he, like her, had perhaps come to some admission of sorts, and that perhaps he understood that something had happened. He didn't know what, and he desperately wanted to, but he had stayed composed. And that gave her courage.

Back at work, her drainage ditch was finally finished and ready to go. Her upcoming meeting, well, that was another task entirely. It was after lunch, so she still had a bunch of time to get ready. She had purposefully omitted a key detail about that meeting, hoping to get a rise out of Nolan. She had hoped Nate would be there too, but with his suspension, that was unlikely. 

Grace felt bad for the guy, but he seemed to have an idea of how to get back on his feet. He had an idea for a soap ad, it seemed, or something like that. He had asked her for help for a photoshoot he had in mind. Grace had never considered doing any sort of modelling, even though the offers definitely had been there, but it was just one shoot. And she liked Nate, obviously.

She also wondered what their lecherous neighbor had in store for her. He had implied that they should 'go out with a bang' should this truly be their last week, and she looked forward to whatever that could be. She wondered if she was ready to commit to it too, but Grace had a feeling that she was. This was just the beginning of the new, improved dynamic.

She had to prepare for the meeting. She had a few documents to read up on. Nothing too big. Just the accounting of her small landscaping business. It wasn't much.

But that wasn't what was fun with this meeting.

As she got home, she found her outfit. It wasn't anything too fancy. Just a blouse and skirt. Both were tight. The blouse was white with a button two undone, and the bra underneath was lacy and red, and the contour would be almost visible if one were to check her out. The skirt was a deep navy blue, and she knew it would look great when she bent over to pick up anything, especially with her heels. And the best part, no panties. 

Yes. Not too fancy. But definitely sexy.

She wanted to look good for this meeting. She wanted to look good for the guy who was going to be there.

As she stood in the elevator, she felt excited. Her heart was racing a bit. She was going to have fun with this.

The doors opened, and she stepped into the lobby. The open office space, cubicles spread across the open area, came into view, smaller offices along the sides, and bigger ones in the corners. A larger meeting room was in the middle of the office, with large windows to let in a lot of light. There were four people sitting at the table.

Grace took a breath and started walking.

Sitting at a desk in the open office space, Nolan didn't see her at first, working diligently, but when he did, Grace smiled confidently, wickedly as his jaw dropped. She continued across the room, and Nolan stood up from his seat. He wasn't going to follow her, as she was heading to Josh Calhoun's office, his boss, but he was sure as hell curious why she was there. If he used his brain, he'd know, but it was a fun little game of teasing regardless.

"Grace," he said, hoarsely. While her outfit was professional, Nolan was the attentive looker, catching the subtle sexiness she had going on. Her red bra was almost visible under her blouse, her skirt tight, showing off her ass and her thighs. She looked incredible, and the look on his face showed it.

"Hi Nolan," she said, not stopping, waving at him, blowing him a kiss. "We'll talk later."

He could only stare after her.

Josh's office door closed behind her, and Grace felt like she had gotten away with murder. She couldn't stifle her giggling, and Josh, who was sitting behind his desk, raised an eyebrow.

"Good to see you, Grace. What's so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing," Grace said, getting her bearings. "I'm just keeping Nolan on his toes. In fact, do you mind if I close the blinds?"

Josh tilted his head back to let out a barking laugh. "Oh, I like that. Sure, go ahead. Here, I'll stand up as you close them."

Grace walked over to the large window as Josh stood up from his desk and moved toward her, almost looking menacing as he did. Grace almost got nervous for a moment, but gathered herself quickly. Turning to the blinds, she looked straight at Nolan as she started closing them.

Nolan was still watching her.

He watched her as she closed the blinds, winking at him playfully.

"Alright, they're closed," she said, turning back to Josh, who immediately turned off the menace and was already sitting back down.

The meeting wasn't anything special. She had ordered a bunch of miniature representations of stuff for Josh's backyard, mini benches, oaks and bushes, a movable trail, a small pond with a bridge, and so on, showing how Grace was planning to make his simple grassy knoll and small fields into a cozy park where he could relax and even grow a few vegetables and whatnot. She showed him her sketches, her ideas, and Josh seemed very enthusiastic about it, especially since the budget was reasonable. Though from what Grace understood from Josh, a budget wouldn't deter him if the idea was good.

In fact, with this budget, she’d afford to finally maybe hire an extra set of hands.

It didn't take long before the meeting was over. As Grace stood up from her chair, she made sure to bend over to pick up a folder that had slipped off the table. Her skirt was just that tight, and as she did so, she heard Josh chuckle under his breath.

"Damn, you look great, Grace," he said as she sat up again, clutching her papers. "You really like to give me a hard time, eh?"

"A girl gets rejected, she tries harder," Grace retorted. "I'm just joking."

"Me too. Like I said at the party, I'd never," Josh said, though as the invitation to look was there, he did, checking out her ass. "Your husband is lucky."

"Oh, I know he is," Grace replied. "He knows he is too."

"Good. So, when can you start?"

"Today, if you want," Grace said. Really, she hoped to take the rest of the day off, but there was something about Josh that just made people want to work for him.

"No rush, but I'm eager to see the results. And hey, if you want to borrow my pool while you're there, be my guest," Josh said.

"Is that an excuse to see me in a tiny bikini?" Grace asked. Josh shrugged and smiled, and Grace couldn't help but laugh. "Well, thanks. I'll think about it."

"You do that."

Grace then thought of something. It was in the spur of the moment, but she figured it would be harmless enough. "Hey, Josh?"

Josh looked up, still smiling. "What's up?"

"Can I have one more favor?"

Josh tilted his head back to laugh. "Oh, you're full of surprises. What's the favor?"

"Well, Nate asked me for help with a photoshoot. Apparently, he's got an ad in the works. A soap commercial, I think. I thought I'd ask if it's okay if I use some of the bikinis from Entrendy?" Grace asked.

"Nate? You mean Nathan Bertsch?" Josh asked. "I think Mirella suspended him."

"Yeah, but you can't stop a good idea," Grace said.

"Fair enough. Alright, sure. Let me know how that goes," Josh said, chuckling. "You are a lot of fun, Grace. I'm glad to have you on board."

"Thank you," Grace replied. "I'll be in touch."

"Sounds good. And I'll keep an eye out for Nate's ad thingy. Sounds interesting... if it involves pretty girls in bikinis I've designed," Josh said, looking at her knowingly. "By the way, you should open another button before you go out. It'll give Nolan a rise."

Grace chuckled and did as suggested, and made her way out of the office.

Nolan was waiting for her. She had been in there for only like twenty minutes, but she knew he would be curious. The second she left the office, he was out of his seat, walking toward her, a worried look on his face.

"Hey," she said as he approached.

"What are you doing here? Is everything okay?" he asked.

Grace smiled. "Yes. Everything is fine. I just had a meeting with your boss."

Nolan tilted his head slightly. "About?"

"Business stuff," Grace replied, not giving anything away. "You know... about what kind of job I'm going to do for him. I'm gonna spend a lot of time at his house. He's got a nice pool too. Said I should use it."

"Okay," he said, not sure what else to say.

Grace stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Nolan. It's all good. Trust me."

"I do," he assured her. "Damn, that skirt is fighting for its life."

"You like?" Grace asked, smiling. She gave him a playful twirl.

"Very," Nolan admitted. "Just, uh, don't do that too much around the office." If Grace had heard that any other time in her life, it would've sounded like he was controlling. But no, this version of Nolan was talking for his own sake.

Grace laughed. "I'll try not to. I need to go. I'm having a late lunch with Nate," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you at home. I'll be the one lying prone and naked."

Nolan groaned as Grace walked away, swaying her hips a little more than she had to.

Grace hadn't really planned on having lunch with Nate today, but figured it was fun to tease Nolan further, to test his limits. So far, she was actually proud of him. He had overwhelmed her before, now he was passing with stellar grades. Besides, she needed to get home and change into more suitable clothes for work, and she needed to order a bunch of trees for her new project, and she could stop by Nate on the way and have a chat.

*

Nate let himself into his apartment and stood there for a moment longer than necessary, hand still resting on the door after it clicked shut. The session hadn't gone badly. It never did. Anna had that way about her. She was patient, thoughtful, earnest without being naïve. He respected that. Or at least, he respected how easily it could be worked with.

She'd mentioned her kids again today. Not directly, not in a way that asked for sympathy. Just a scheduling note. School pickup. A late meeting. A husband who handled dinner on Tuesdays.

Nate had nodded, attentive. Curious in the way that made people feel seen rather than examined.

"You seem very grounded," he'd said. "You've built something solid."

She'd smiled at that. The kind of smile people give when they don't often hear their stability framed as an achievement.

During the drive home, Nate thought about that word. Solid. How much people trusted it. How easily it became a rule instead of a choice.

By the time he reached his place, the afternoon had settled into something warm and unassuming. He stripped off his jacket, rolled his sleeves, and set about making lunch without much thought. Leftovers, most likely. Enough for Nate.

His phone buzzed on the counter.

Grace.

'Mind if I stop by for lunch? I'm right next door.'

Nate didn't answer immediately. He let the moment linger a beat, two beats. The door between their places had become only theoretical.

'Sure,' he typed back. 'Ive got food.'

Grace arrived ten minutes later, and in the way only she could, the way she always did. She wasn't rushing, not apologizing, already mid-day focused on the rest of her day. She smelled faintly of outside air and a hint of sweat. She had dressed in a white blouse, a navy blue skirt that stretched over her flawless curves just perfectly. And what was that? Nate had to almost adjust himself when he saw that she wore an obviously red bra underneath her white blouse. The tease she was... and she knew it. Comfortable, sexy.

"Hope you don't mind," she said, kicking off her heels. Nate wasn't one for feet, but Grace's was enticing. Sure, she should drag them all over his floor. Over him.

"I wouldn't have said yes if I did," Nate replied, maintaining the boisterous tone she liked. "Hey, I gave you a key. You can come and go as you want, you know that!"

She smiled at that. Grace turned and took in the room. It was familiar to her now, in the way spaces became once you stopped asking permission to exist in them, or wondered what that shelf had, what types of plants you had.

"So, want me to cook you something? Or will sandwiches do?" Nate had thrown away the leftovers, hoping to hell that Grace wouldn't see them. She hated wastefulness, but he didn't have time to run down to the garbage with it, and they were too old to let someone like her eat it.

"Sandwiches are fine. I'm surprised you're not making me make the food," Grace said.

"I'm full of surprises," Nate chuckled.

"So," Grace said casually. "Monday. How's the suspension?" She was concerned.

Nate snorted and waved it off. "Forced vacation. I've had worse."

Grace laughed softly at that. "You always say that."

"Because it's usually true. And especially now that you are here," Nate said, running his eyes over her attire. He was so glad they were over the pretense of not looking at each other. With the weekend they had together, it was pretty clear what they were to each other.

"Yeah, well. I figured you'd be hungry," Grace said. "And I also had a meeting with Josh."

"Ah, how is the boss man?" Nate asked, cutting the sandwiches in half, then putting them on plates for them. "Did he like your plans? I'll be honest, I don't really know how to look at a landscape and think 'yes, this is a good idea,' but your mind work better than mine."

"Yeah. He liked it. He seemed impressed," Grace said. Grace studied Nate for a moment. Not suspicious. Assessing. Grace was good at that. Weighing people without making it feel like judgment. She was an angel, if there ever was one. "You seem... relaxed."

"Therapy helps," he replied, releasing a small nugget, giving up a little bit of himself. Not a lie, either. Just incomplete.

Grace raised her eyebrows. "You go to therapy?" She was surprised, but not shocked. Curious, more than anything else.

"Yeah. Once a week. It's helpful," Nate said, shrugging easily. "Keeps me honest."

Grace tilted her head slightly, not pressing for details. She was amused, but didn't ask more. "That's good. I'm glad for you." She took a bite of her sandwich.

“You seem lighter today,” Nate said. “Like someone who slept on a decision instead of running from it.”

Grace didn't answer. She eyed him for a moment with an expression that told what he needed to know. Then she gave a half-smile and simply shrugged and took another bite. She didn't correct Nate.

They ate the sandwiches without further ceremony. Grace was kind enough to gather the plates and put them in the sink. It was almost like she belonged between Nate's four walls. Nate didn't stop her; he instead looked at her, satisfied with... The domestication?

"You know," she said lightly, rinsing her hands. "Nolan's been very well-behaved."

Nate leaned against the counter next to her. "Has he?"

"Oh yeah. Very supportive. Trusting. I finally think we're moving about these things the right way."

The way she said it made Nate's mouth twitch. Not because of jealousy or a smile on Nolan's behalf. Because of the implication.

"That's good," he said. "Sounds like he knows what he's doing."

Grace dried her hands slowly. "Does he?"

She met Nate's gaze then. Not challenging. Not inviting. Waiting. Nate was supposed to follow up

Nate held the look, didn't rush, and didn't answer her. Not right away.

"I think," he said finally. "That he trusts you to know what you want."

Something flickered across her expression. Satisfaction, maybe. Or perhaps relief.

"Yeah," she said. "I think he does."

Grace checked the time and grabbed her bag.

"I should go. Josh is trusting me a lot, and I have to rush ordering and planting the oaks before it's too late in the season, so I gotta get on that before the people leave for the day," Grace explained, including Nate in her day-to-day.

"Of course. Oaks. My favorite... shrubbery?" Nate teased playfully. Grace laughed, which made Nate feel something.

She paused by the door and looked back at him.

"Lunch was nice. And thank you for not... flirting. It's nice that we can be friends," Grace said.

“With benefits,” Nate said, his eyes dipping briefly toward her red bra under her blouse before lifting again, a knowing smile tugging at his mouth. “And I’m pretty sure lunch wasn’t the only thing on your mind.”

Grace scoffed softly, shaking her head as she reached for her bag. "Don't flatter yourself," she said. "No, I didn't dress like this for you."

Nate didn't answer right away.

He stepped closer instead. Not crowding her, not even touching her, just closing the space enough that she had to be aware of him. The room felt smaller and quieter. Grace hadn't left yet.

"Oh," Nate finally said. "I think you did."

Grace turned toward him, lifting her eyebrows. "That's a bold assumption."

"Is it?" Nate asked. His gaze was unblinking and steady. "You could've worn anything. Changed before you got her. But you didn't."

Grace hesitated. Just a fraction of a second. Enough.

"That doesn't mean–"

"It means you wanted to be seen," Nate said, cutting in smoothly. Not sharp or loud, but with pure presence and certainty. "And you knew I'd see."

Her mouth opened, then closed again. The argument didn’t land the way she’d meant it to. She shifted her weight, fingers tightening briefly around the strap of her bag.

“You always do this,” she said quietly.

Nate smiled. Not wide. Not pleased. Something more intent than that. “Because it works.”

He reached out then. It was the first time it would be a motion of pure intention. Grace came here for this, whether she knew it or not. This was why she was here. She wanted more. And Nate would give it. There was no other pretence. That's why she was so quick to get up and leave. That's why she wanted to stay. Nate brushed his knuckles along her wrist. She didn't move away, so his hand landed on the side of her hip, threatening to run his fingers over her ass. He didn't. Not yet.

"It's okay to admit you like it," he said gently.

Grace shook her head slightly, not in denial. More like a question she didn't have an answer to.

Nate stepped closer, and his other hand went to her waist. He had her caged in now, between the wall and him.

"Tell me to stop." He said it like he already knew the answer.

Grace inhaled, breath catching herself. "Nate..." But she didn't say any more than that.

His hand on her hip slid around to rest at the small of her back. Not pulling her closer. Just there. A silent invitation. She still had time to get away. Still had a choice. He felt the way she tensed, not in fear, but in anticipation.

“Thought so,” he murmured.

He leaned in, close enough now that she could feel the heat of him, the weight of his attention settling fully on her. His mouth hovered near her ear.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” he said. “All morning. Haven’t you.”

Grace swallowed. Her voice came out quieter than she’d intended. “That doesn’t mean I’m—”

His other hand came to her hip, firm and unapologetic. Not rough. Not gentle. Claiming.

“It means you already are.”

The words landed heavier than his touch.

Grace’s head tipped back just slightly, her spine arching before she could stop herself. The room seemed to tilt with her, the moment narrowing until there was nothing else but his hands, his voice, the undeniable pull between them.

“Nate,” she breathed again — and this time, it wasn’t a warning.

He kissed her then.

Not rushed. Not tentative. Slow, deliberate, like he knew exactly how long he could take before she’d give in completely. And she did. The tension broke, and Grace was suddenly clinging to him, pulling him closer, kissing him back. It wasn’t sweet, wasn't kind. It was hungry, wanting, almost desperate.

Nate pushed her back against the wall, kissing her with the same passion as Grace. He pinned her body against the wall, his knee pressing between her thighs, making Grace gasp. She arched into him, her hips grinding instinctively against his thigh. He felt her hands slide down his back and grip his shirt, holding him to her as if he’d ever try to leave.

Nate's mouth moved from her lips to her neck, trailing kisses down her skin. She gasped again as he found that spot, that one sensitive place where her neck met her shoulder. She moaned softly, her fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked and licked at her skin.

"Nate," she gasped. "I don't have much time."

He chuckled against her skin, not stopping. One of his hands slid down her body, over her hip, and between her legs. He pressed against her, feeling her heat through her skirt. Grace moaned again, louder this time.

"Then I'll make it fast," he said, his voice low and husky. "Turn around," Nate ordered, pulling away from her.

Grace whimpered at the loss of contact but complied. She turned around, leaning forward and placing her hands against the wall. Nate pulled up her skirt, revealing her ass, which he gave a firm slap. Grace gasped, then moaned again, her hips bucking back against him.

Nate undid his pants and freed his cock. He rubbed it against her ass, teasing her. Grace whimpered, trying to push back against him, but Nate held her hips firmly.

"Please," she begged.

"Please what?" he growled.

"Fuck me," Grace moaned. "Please, just fuck me already."

Nate smirked and guided himself into her, slowly at first. Grace moaned and pushed back against him, desperate for more. Nate grabbed her hips and thrust forward, slamming into her. Grace cried out, her fingers gripping the wall as he started pounding into her.

"You like that, don't you?" Nate growled. "You like being fucked hard and fast. You like being used."

Grace couldn't even respond, her mind lost in a haze of pleasure already, just the dirty talk sending her over the edge. Nate continued to fuck her relentlessly, driving her closer and closer to her peak.

Just when she was on the verge of tumbling over the edge, he pulled her hips back, guiding her down to the couch, and positioning her over the armrest.

"If you want to leave..." he teased, lining himself behind her again.

"Shut the fuck up, Nate," Grace said, sounding eager, hungry, needy.

"Alright," he groaned, spanking her ass once more.

"You gonna be a good girl for me, princess? All week?" He taunted.

"Y-Yes," she answered breathily.

"Promise?" he teased, slapping her ass.

"Yes!" she cried.

Nate growled. He gripped her hips, and slammed inside her once more, fucking her with deep, hard strokes. Grace moaned loudly, the sounds echoing off the walls of the apartment as she screamed his name over and over. Nate was relentless, grunting and panting as he pounded into her.

There was something deeply satisfying about handling a woman who didn’t need permission, who knew exactly what she was risking — and did it anyway. But there was a particular satisfaction in this, in having a woman like Grace give herself this way. Strong. Careful. Devoted elsewhere.

Not stolen. Not tricked.

Taken because she wanted to be.

Nate felt the quiet thrill of it settle in his chest. Another man’s devotion hadn’t protected her from this. If anything, it made it sweeter.

Looking down at his wide cock splitting her apart, her perfect ass bouncing off him, he groaned, feeling her tightening on his cock Fuck, she was going to cum on his cock. Again. So easily.  Nate leaned over and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head up. He was much rougher with her than he usually was, but she clearly didn't mind, her moaning growing even louder and the way she pushed her hips back onto his thrusts giving him enough permission to do what he wanted, and that was making her his.

Grace Harris had come to his apartment and was now here with him, responding without apology. 

"Cum on my dick," Nate commanded.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, yes, oh my god, yes!" Grace shouted, her body clenching tight as she climaxed, her pussy tightening around his thick shaft.

Nate grunted, his hips bucking, burying himself deep inside her, his cock twitching. He thrust into her a couple of more times, drawing out her pleasure before finally giving into the urge and releasing. He groaned as he filled her with his load, his body shuddering and his grip on her tightening as she spasmed around him.

"Holy shit," Grace panted.

Nate grinned and patted her on her ass, making her shiver.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Oh, my fucking god," she whispered. "We've gotta do this more often..."

She stayed on the couch, with his hand on her hips, the silence not feeling uncomfortable. There was no guilt, no worry, no questions. This was about the physical. And they both enjoyed it immensely. And perhaps this is the type of relationship Grace needed now. Uncomplicated.

"Alright," Nate said, pulling out of her, a wet squelch following his movement. "Go ahead and clean yourself up in the bathroom. You should hurry."

"Thanks," Grace said and rushed to the bathroom, the sound of the tap running.

Nate smiled. He had a feeling that Grace was enjoying this more than she cared to admit. She wasn't just a girl with a fantasy. She was a woman with a hunger.

She came back and straightened her hair in the hallway mirror.

"I'm gonna have to go," Grace said. "I really need to get those oaks planted before the end of the season."

"Sure," Nate said. "Thanks for coming by."

Nate didn't stop her as Grace grabbed her heels and bag, still looking immaculate, but a little more flush, her cheeks red, her hair slightly messy. He could still smell her on his couch. He wondered how much Grace was smelling of him.

"By the way," Nate said. He wanted to leave with this, so there could be little objection. "Come by before work. I have a meeting too, but not with Josh."

"Yeah?" Grace asked, intrigued. Opening with the demand and following up with something interesting was the right way, it seemed, as she didn't question it. Well, she would do what she wanted to do, but Nate had a feeling about this.

"Yeah. A soap manufacturer," Nate said, then smiled coyly at her. "And I want you to stop by and get me... ready."

Grace raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't reply immediately. Instead, she smiled back at him and chuckled softly. "I'll think about it."

"Oh, you will," Nate said, and then added a small wink. "Bright and early." As if it was foregone conclusion. If she did what he asked, it spoke volumes.

*

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was perhaps not the longest(I know you guys are used to 30k+ by now), but it is dense in terms of development, and I had to get it right. Feedback is welcome. And if my style is a bit hiccupy, let me know. It was hard to find the tone. I was also thinking this would be the date, but it didn't fit the pacing. Part 14, however, I think will cover the rest of the week + the date.