A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 92: CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

ASHLEY

My head fell back against the wall with a thud, lips parting in a broken gasp. There was nothing like this. Nothing in the world that could compare to the feel of him like this—thick, deep, raw. The way our bodies moved together like we were built for this. Like we were made to burn.

“So. Fucking. Good,” he growled, each word punctuated by a hard, perfect thrust. He drove into me again and again, setting a pace that was brutal in its precision, stealing my breath and replacing it with nothing but moans and pleas I didn’t know I could make.

The wall at my back gave me just enough leverage to meet every thrust, to arch and take him deeper. I couldn’t get enough. Not of his mouth crashing into mine, not of the way his hands anchored my hips, not of the exquisite friction that made my spine curve and my toes curl.

Reality narrowed to sensation.

His chest against my breasts. His cock filling me again and again. His mouth trailing down my throat. The pressure in my core building so fast it almost hurt.

He dipped his head to my ear, breath ragged and hot. Then he tugged my earlobe between his teeth with a low groan.

“Whose cock?” he demanded, voice low and dark, full of dominance and desperation.

“Yours,” I gasped, barely holding on.

“That’s right.” His grip on my throat tightened just enough to make me feel owned, grounded, tethered to him and nothing else.

“Now tell me…” He pulled out almost completely, and then slammed back into me with such force I would’ve slid up the wall if he hadn’t pinned me there like a flame against stone.

“Mmmph—” I tried to respond, but the words melted into a string of strangled moans as Kyle picked up speed, settling into a punishing rhythm that had my body clenching around him with every stroke.

Pleasure crashed through me like a lightning strike—sudden, hot, and explosive. My first orgasm stole the ground from under me, hitting me so hard I forgot how to breathe. And then the second followed, slower at first, teasing, curling through me like a tide before it dragged me under completely.

My entire body shook as I came, again and again, unraveling in his arms with nothing to hold onto but the sound of his name on my lips.

Kyle’s thrusts slowed, becoming deep, measured—like he was memorizing the feel of me, like if he went slow enough, this moment might last longer than it should. His forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing hard, breaths mingling in the space between our lips.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice raw and low, as if the words had been caged inside him for far too long. “Every fucking day.”

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because I didn’t trust my voice not to betray me. I didn’t trust myself not to say something weak—something like I missed you too—when I’d sworn I was stronger than this.

His hands gentled, sliding from my throat down to my waist. There was reverence in the way he held me now, the kind that made my heart squeeze painfully. The man who had just unraveled me with ruthless precision was now cradling me like I was fragile. And maybe I was.

He kissed me again, but this time it wasn’t wild or hungry. It was slow, soft, painfully sweet. The kind of kiss that came with promises we both knew neither of us could keep. It tasted like regret.

Then, wordlessly, he turned me around. I heard the soft rustle of paper, followed by the faint crinkle as he tore off a sheet. And then—gentle pressure.

The drag of a paper towel between my thighs was soft, but it made me flinch anyway. My skin burned with fresh awareness, hypersensitive in the aftermath. He didn’t say anything, just cleaned me with practiced, efficient strokes—careful, methodical. Tender, even.

It was the tenderness that made my chest ache the most.

He smoothed my dress back down, tugging it into place with a patience that contradicted everything that had just happened between us. Then, without warning, he lifted me effortlessly and placed me on what looked like an old storage bench tucked into the back corner of the room. The wood was cool beneath my bare thighs, grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

“Feel better?” he asked, his tone infuriatingly casual—like he hadn’t just ripped me apart and pieced me back together in the dark.

My throat felt raw, lips swollen from his kisses. “Uh-huh,” I croaked, too wrecked to manage more than that. My whole body still hummed with aftershocks, every nerve buzzing, my brain refusing to reboot. Emotionally scrambled didn’t even begin to cover it.

Kyle, of course, looked perfectly composed. Like he hadn’t just wrecked me. Like he hadn’t unraveled me and then tucked me neatly back into myself like it was nothing.

His mouth quirked into a smirk, but there was still a slow-burning heat in his eyes. “Good. Violet must’ve waited long enough.”

And just like that, the world came crashing back in.

Violet.

I froze. My heart stuttered.

Shit.

I blinked, disoriented, trying to remember how we’d even gotten here. I’d come to this club with her—dragged her out after insisting we needed a girls’ night. I told her we’d dance, drink, talk about everything and nothing. That tonight was about us.

Instead, I ditched her. For Kyle.

I stood abruptly, nearly stumbling before catching myself against the wall. “Crap,” I whispered, dragging my hands down my face as guilt settled in like lead. “She’s going to kill me.”

Kyle chuckled, already pulling on his shirt, utterly unfazed.

I watched him leave, closing the door behind him.

This was just another night, another memory to bury.

I waited a few minutes before trying to move, letting my legs remember how to work.

Finally, I slid off the bench and made my way to a cracked mirror hanging above an old utility sink in the corner. One look was enough. My lipstick was smeared across my mouth like a fading bruise, my mascara slightly smudged beneath one eye. My hair? A mess. Wild, disheveled, and undeniably touched.

No way I could go back out there. Not without questions. Not without judgment.

Violet would know.

She’d take one look at me and know exactly what happened. And I wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not yet.

So I pulled out my phone and typed the first lie that came to mind.

“Hey babe. I’m so sorry. I don’t feel too good. Heading home to rest. I’m really sorry for ditching you. Love you.”

My thumb hovered over the screen for a second. I hated lying to her. But right now, the truth was too raw. Too complicated.

I hit send before I could overthink it.

Gathering what was left of my pride,I smoothed down my hair as best as I could, and pushed open the back exit. The night air hit me like a slap—cool and crisp, full of noise and city life. Somewhere, people were laughing, music was thumping through the concrete, and the world kept spinning like I hadn’t just come undone in the shadows of a nightclub.

I didn’t look back.

Just kept walking into the dark, heels clicking against the pavement, every step taking me further from what just happened.

From Kyle.

From myself.