Terry stood in the distance, but you felt him before you saw him—like a slow burn crawling across your skin.
You stood beside his convertible, the only thing left from the scam that landed him in prison. Still flawless. Just like he left it. Seeing it intact confirmed what he always knew: you held it down for him.
Two years. That’s how long it had been since the last time you saw him. Two years of silent nights and empty laughter, pretending your world hadn’t lost its weight when the cell door shut behind him.
You missed his dry humor, the way he held you like it was two of you against the world. He’d left his cards in your name, not just to hide the money, but to make sure you’d be okay.
And now he was here.
The heat on your skin told you he was close, but you didn’t look up. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and you didn’t want him to see.
Then came the voice.
“Y/N… come here, baby.”
That did it.
You threw yourself into his arms and sobbed into his chest. All the strength you had faked for years, gone. You clung to him like a lifeline, cried until your shoulders shook, until you could finally breathe again.
“It’s alright,” he whispered into your hair. “It’s over. I’m here now. Let me take care of you."
He finally put you down, smiling as you sniffled and wiped your tears. "Let’s go home.”
The ride home was quiet. You were exhausted from crying so hard, so he drove.
You felt a twinge of guilt letting him get behind the wheel fresh out of lockup, but he told you not to worry. When you keyed a different address into the GPS, he glanced at you.
“What’s this?”
You just winked. “Surprise.”
When he pulled into the garage of the five-bedroom duplex, the look on his face made you laugh out loud.
“Welcome home, babe,” you said, giving him a loud smooch.
You led him through the house, explaining how you’d flipped houses using a portion of the money he'd left you. The grit it took. How this one had been a bargain. How you made it into the dream you'd both shared.
He followed in silence, eyes wide with pride and astonishment. Then you opened the last door. It was brightly painted, radiating warmth and comfort.
“Can you guess what this room is for?”
He looked around, nodded slowly.
Your chest tightened. You'd imagined this moment so many times. He didn’t react the way you’d dreamed. But maybe that was okay. He was tired. You were both just trying to come back to each other.
“I think I’m ready to try your fancy shower,” he said with a half-smile.
You lit up and led the way.
Steam filled the room. Terry stood under the hot spray, letting it work through two years of tension.
Then the door creaked open.
You stepped inside, gloriously naked, catching the way his breath hitched.
“Need help with your back?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You lathered your hands, sliding them down his shoulders, over those back muscles. Damn. He must’ve spent every day in there lifting. You ran your palms down to his ass, giving it a firm squeeze, a playful slap. The wet crack of it made you giggle.
He chuckled...then choked a little when your hands slid around and took hold of his thickening shaft.
You stroked him slowly, reverently. You weren’t in any hurry. It had been too long since you held him like this. You told yourself you’d just take the edge off, let him sleep. Just a little taste.
His cock hardened in your grip as you worked him — squeezing, twisting, dragging your fingers over the ridge of his glans. He gasped every time your thumb flicked the tip.
Terry groaned deep in his chest. No one had touched him in prison. Plenty of men had tried. But his body belonged to you — always had.
He placed his hand over yours, tightening your grip. Together you pumped him faster, harder, until he shuddered and spilled over both your hands.
You kissed his back, pulled away, and rinsed off quickly.
“I’m setting the table,” you said, stepping out. “Put something on and come eat. I need you back at 100%.”
Dinner was spent catching up and swapping stories until late into the night, when your eyes began to droop. He scooped you into his arms and carried you to bed.
It must have been around 4 a.m. when you felt gentle hands on your body. Blinking awake, you found Terry looking down at you, a twinkle in his eye. Your gaze dropped, and your core clenched. He was naked.
Smiling mischievously, he started unbuttoning your pajamas. He kissed your skin with every button he undid, pausing to stare at your bare breasts once they were revealed. A giggle bubbled up from your throat as it hit you—this was the first time he was seeing them in two years.
He didn’t hesitate for long. His mouth was on you in an instant, groping one breast while sucking the other, leaving little bite marks as he switched between them with greedy urgency.
Your head thrashed on the pillow. Your breasts were extra sensitive, and he wasn’t holding back. Just as you reached to push his mouth away from your aching nipple, he rose to hook his thumbs into your pajama bottoms. With one swift motion, he yanked them off, nearly lifting you off the bed in the process.
He was getting feral—and your pussy wouldn’t stop gushing in response to his intensity.
Flipping you onto your stomach, he pulled your hips up until your ass was in his face.
Terry groaned at the sight. Your round ass was perfectly presented, your glistening juices dripping on the sheets. His dick was painfully hard.
He fisted it slowly as he leaned forward for a taste, spreading your thighs with one hand and dragging his tongue from the front of your slit to the back.
“Mmm… delicious,” he murmured, stroking himself. “You’re still the sweetest thing on earth, baby.”
He made soft, filthy noises into your pussy in response to your whimpers. Precum formed at the tip of his cock, and he rubbed it lazily over the swollen head with his thumb, never taking his eyes off your soaked folds.
Then he let go of himself.
Grabbing both your thighs, he buried his face in your pussy and began to devour you with hunger. His mouth moved over you like a lover’s kiss, sucking and tonguing every inch of your labia. His tongue licked deep into your slit, pausing to suck and nibble your clit. His fingers joined the feast, spreading you open so his tongue could reach inside, lapping hungrily at your core as slick dripped from your folds onto his chin.
Muffled cries escaped into the fluffy pillow beneath you. You were already so close. Your orgasm began to build fast and wild, and you reached back blindly for his head, holding him against you as you rocked your pussy into his face.
He didn’t stop. He licked and sucked through it, letting you ride your high against his mouth, your juices smeared across his nose and cheeks.
When you finally let him go, he grabbed your discarded pajama top and wiped his face.
“Well, damn,” he said, catching his breath. “I’m glad I’m not the only one starving.”
He pulled your legs out from under you until you lay flat on your stomach again, then moved over your body, straddling you.
You felt the nudge of his cock at your entrance and moaned—deep and needy. He was pushing in.
You hadn’t let another man near you in two years. Toys had helped, but nothing could prepare you for Terry’s thick cock stretching you open again. No one had ever ruined you the way he had.
Terry groaned as your wet heat took him in, inch by inch.
He was home.
He moved slowly at first, letting you adjust while savoring the way your walls gripped him. His thrusts were deep, measured, loving.
“Ohhhh, Terryyy… fuck, I missed you. I missed you, Papa…”
Your voice trembled—part moan, part sob. His weight on your back pinned you into the mattress, and somehow you felt both helpless and safe in his arms.
When his arm curled around your head and shoulders, you knew what time it was.
His hips began to slam down harder, faster. The wet slap of skin echoed in the room, drowning out everything but his grunts and the filthy words he growled in your ear.
You whimpered, grinding back into him, trying to match his punishing rhythm.
You felt his cock twitch inside you. He lowered his lips to your ear, his voice a low rasp.
“You ready to use that room you showed me?”
Your heart swelled. He wanted this. He just wasn’t the kind of man to show it outright.
His hand on your head kept you still, so you choked out a small, “Yes.”
“I’m gonna wear out this pussy,” he growled. “We’re not stopping until your stomach’s swelling with my child.”
Your pussy clenched around him—tight, hot, desperate.
That was all the answer he needed.
He held you tight as he poured his seed inside you.
To new beginnings.
