Until We Meet

Bella Rolland grips the wheel with one hand, phone in the other. Aiden Ashley grins through the screen, counting the miles down together. Every red light feels criminal. The second Bella steps inside, rose petals mark the carpet and the cool tile outside. Aiden stretches over the blankets, straps cutting into full hips, nipples tight against thin black lace. Their eyes lock. Bella drops her bag. A hand reaches. Aiden answers with an arched back and parted thighs. Fingers trace damp silk first, then pull it aside to wet heat. Tongues slide, hips rise, and all the empty space between two screens vanishes in slick, slow thrusts.