Weightless

SLOANE

The pool house door clicked shut behind us with the soft finality of a vault sealing.

No lock.

No need.

The rest of the house was asleep, the hallway lights off, Victoria and Dad’s bedroom door closed at the far end of the first floor. We’d crept down the back staircase like teenagers breaking curfew—bare feet silent on hardwood, breath held every time a floorboard sighed under weight. Chase had gone first, one hand trailing the banister, the other reaching back once to find mine in the dark. I’d let him take it. Just for the stairs.

Now the door was closed and the only light came from the underwater glow of the pool outside the glass wall—shifting blue-green ripples painting slow, liquid patterns across the teak floor, the built-in benches, the low sectional piled with throw pillows nobody ever used.

He turned on the lights.

We stood there—maybe three feet apart—breathing too loud in the sudden quiet.

My heart was trying to climb out of my throat. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven pulls. Neither of us moved first.

Then he did.

One step.

Another.

Close enough now that I could smell chlorine still clinging to his skin from the afternoon swim, mixed with cedar body wash and the faint salt-sweat of a long day. Close enough that when he lifted his hand, the backs of his knuckles brushed my cheekbone and I felt the tremor in them.

“You sure?” he asked. Voice so low it was mostly air.

I swallowed. Nodded once. “Yeah.”

His thumb traced the line of my jaw—slow, reverent, like he was memorizing bone structure. “We stop the second you say stop. No questions.”

“I know.”

He searched my face another beat—looking for hesitation, for doubt, for anything that would make him pull back.

I didn’t give him any.

So he kissed me.

Different from the kitchen. Different from upstairs.

This one started careful—lips brushing, testing, asking. I answered by stepping into him, hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his T-shirt right over his pounding heart. He made a low, broken sound against my mouth and the careful dissolved.

His hands found my waist—palms flat, thumbs stroking the strip of bare skin where my tank had ridden up. I shivered. He felt it. Groaned softly into the kiss and walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the sectional cushion.

I sank. He followed—kneeling between my thighs, never breaking the kiss. One hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my skull like I was fragile. The other slipped under my tank, skimming up my ribs, callused fingertips dragging fire along every inch they touched.

I arched—gasped—when his thumb brushed the underside of my breast.

He froze. Mouth still on mine.

“Okay?” Barely a whisper.

I nodded frantically. “More.”

He exhaled—shaky—then pushed my tank up and off in one smooth motion. Cool air hit skin. Then his mouth—hot, open—on the slope of my breast. Tongue flicking over the tight peak. I cried out—too loud—slapped a hand over my own mouth.

He lifted his head just enough to murmur against my skin, “They won’t hear. Promise.”

Then he sucked—gentle at first, testing—then harder when my fingers twisted in his hair and my hips jerked up off the cushion.

I was shaking. Full-body tremors I couldn’t control. Not fear. Overload. Every nerve lit at once.

I pulled back, just enough to look at him. The underwater light cast his face in shifting blue. His hair a mess from my hands. He looked as wrecked as I felt.

“Chase,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m scared.”

His expression softened. The predatory edge in his eyes melted away, replaced by something so gentle it made my chest ache. He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.

“Hey,” he murmured against my skin. “We don’t have to—”

“No,” I cut him off, my hands tightening on his shoulders. “I want to. I really want to. I just… I don’t want to disappoint you.”

A low, breathy laugh escaped him. “Sloane. Look at me.” I did. “You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried. There’s nothing you could do wrong here. We just… go slow. We figure it out. Together. Okay?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

He kissed me again—soft, sweet, reassuring. “Lie back.”

I did, sinking into the plush cushions of the sectional, my heart hammering against my ribs. He followed me down, propping himself on his elbow beside me. His free hand traced the curve of my hip, the line of my thigh, a slow, exploratory journey that was both calming and electrifying.

“Just feel,” he whispered, his lips brushing my collarbone. “Don’t think. Just feel what I’m doing to you.”

His mouth began a slow, deliberate descent. He kissed the hollow of my throat, the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder. His tongue traced the line of my clavicle, sending shivers cascading through me. His hand moved with his mouth, skimming up my side, his thumb stroking the underside of my breast again, but this time slower, more deliberate.

I arched into his touch, a silent plea for more. He smiled against my skin, a soft, knowing curve of his lips. He took his time, learning every dip and plane of my body with a patience that was both agonizing and exquisite. He kissed the swell of my breast, his tongue circling the tight peak until I was writhing beneath him, soft, desperate sounds escaping my lips.

“Please,” I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair again, trying to guide him where I needed him most.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my skin. He shifted, moving down my body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to my stomach, his tongue dipping into my navel, making me gasp and squirm.

His hands slid down, hooking into the waistband of my sleep shorts. He looked up at me, his eyes dark with question. I lifted my hips in silent permission. He peeled them down slowly, taking my panties with them, until I was completely bare beneath him.

The cool air was a shock, but the heat in his gaze was a furnace. He just looked at me for a long moment, his eyes tracing every inch of me, and for the first time, I didn’t feel self-conscious. I felt… seen. Worshipped.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word a reverent curse. “You’re perfect.”

He settled between my thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them wider. I tensed, instinctively trying to close them, but he held me gently, firmly in place.

“Easy,” he soothed, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. “Let me in, Sloane. Let me take care of you.”

And then his mouth was on me.

A soft, exploratory lick that sent a jolt of pure electricity straight through my core. I cried out, my hips jerking off the couch. He chuckled, a low, vibrating sound against my most sensitive flesh, and did it again. Slower this time. A long, deliberate swipe of his tongue that had me seeing stars.

He was relentless. A masterful, patient torture. He learned me with his mouth, finding every spot that made me gasp, every rhythm that made me moan. He alternated between broad, flat strokes and pointed, flicking touches. He sucked gently, then harder, until my thighs were shaking and my hands were fisted in the cushions beside me, my knuckles white.

The pressure built deep inside me, a tight, coiling knot of pleasure that grew with every pass of his tongue. I was mindless, lost to the sensation, my world narrowed to the heat of his mouth and the exquisite tension winding tighter and tighter in my belly.

“Chase,” I gasped, his name a ragged plea. “I… I can’t…”

“Don’t hold back,” he urged, his voice muffled against me. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

He slid a finger inside me, then another, curling them just so, and that was it. The coil snapped. A wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful crashed over me. I came with a sharp cry, my back arching off the couch, my inner walls clamping down around his fingers as wave after wave of ecstasy pulsed through me.

He didn’t stop. He worked me through it, his mouth and fingers drawing out my orgasm until I was a trembling, sobbing mess, completely undone. When the tremors finally subsided, he kissed me gently, a soft, tender press of his lips against my oversensitive flesh.

He moved up my body, kissing a path back up to my mouth. I could taste myself on his lips, a salty, intimate flavor that was both shocking and thrilling.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, his forehead resting against mine.

I could only nod, my body still buzzing, my limbs feeling like they were made of liquid. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a deep, lazy kiss. I could feel the hard, heavy length of him pressing against my thigh, and a new kind of anticipation, sharp and thrilling, cut through the haze.

I reached down between us, my hand trembling slightly as I wrapped my fingers around him through his sweatpants. He was thick, and long, and so hard it felt like steel encased in velvet. A fresh wave of nerves hit me.

He groaned into my mouth, his hips rocking forward into my hand. “Sloane…”

I pushed his pants down, needing to see him, to feel him. He helped me, kicking them off, and then he was naked, kneeling between my thighs. The blue light from the pool washed over him, highlighting the defined muscles of his chest, the ridges of his abs, the powerful V of his hips. And his cock… God. It stood proud and erect, jutting from a thatch of dark hair. It was beautiful. And intimidating.

“Chase,” I whispered, my eyes wide. “I… that’s… it’s big.”

A slow, confident grin spread across his face. “We’ll make it fit. I promise.” He leaned down, kissing me softly. “But not like this. Not the first time.”

He stood, scooping me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing. I let out a surprised yelp, wrapping my arms around his neck. He carried me toward the glass wall overlooking the pool.

“Hold on,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

He slid open the door and stepped out into the cool night air. The pool water was a warm, inviting contrast. He walked down the steps, the water rising slowly up his legs, up my back, until he was standing chest-deep, holding me in his arms.

The water buoyed me, making me feel weightless. He held me close, my legs wrapped around his waist, his arms banded around my back, supporting me. The water lapped gently around us, the only sound the soft splash and our ragged breathing.

“Better?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

I nodded, pressing my forehead to his. The water was a shield, a buffer, making everything feel softer, slower, less intense.

He kissed me again, a deep, drugging kiss that tasted of chlorine and want. His hands roamed my back, my ass, pulling me tighter against him. I could feel him, hot and hard, trapped between our bodies.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his lips brushing mine.

I took a deep breath. “Yes.”