Title: “Reunion”

Part One

Jess hadn’t planned to show up. Not really.

She told herself it was curiosity — nothing more — that brought her to the dim hotel bar just after 9 p.m. But when she saw him leaning against the far wall, nursing a drink and scanning the room like he already knew she was near, something deep in her chest gave way.

Twenty years hadn’t dulled him. If anything, time had carved him sharper — a little more worn, a little more dangerous. Tyler Harris. Her first everything. The boy who once tied a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue, then kissed her like he meant to ruin her.

And now here he was — same eyes, same smirk — dressed in black, a hint of ink peeking from beneath his rolled sleeves. He looked like he’d walked out of a fantasy she didn’t realize she still had.

His gaze found her. Locked.

She didn’t move. Neither did he.

The silence between them was weighted. Dense. And then he set down his glass, slowly, deliberately, and crossed the room.

“Jess,” he said, stopping just a foot away.

Her heart kicked against her ribs. “Ty.”

Up close, he smelled like whiskey, leather, and something unplaceable — sharp and intimate, like a memory. His eyes swept over her — not with the awkward fumbling curiosity of a teenager, but with the confidence of a man who remembered every inch of her.

“You haven’t changed,” he said, voice low.

She let out a quiet laugh, dry and soft. “I’ve changed a lot.”

“Not where it counts.”

The heat between them surged — not from the past, but from everything unsaid in the present. She reached for her glass, mostly to steady her hand, but he caught her wrist — gently, thumb brushing the inside like a test.

Her breath hitched.

Still so damn sure of her. Still reading her like a story he wrote first.

“You feel that?” he murmured. “Still there. After all this time.”

She didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.

“You always liked the slow burn,” he added, stepping just close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body. “Didn’t you?”

Jess’s voice was barely a whisper. “I still do.”

He smiled. Not the friendly kind. The knowing kind.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not rushing anything.”

He didn’t move closer — not yet.

He just stood there, his presence pulling at her like gravity. Jess felt the years peel away, layer by layer, until all that was left was the thrum beneath her skin — the way her body remembered him before her mind could catch up.

She sipped her drink, just to give her hands something to do. He watched her lips on the rim of the glass, and she saw his jaw tense ever so slightly — subtle, but unmistakable. A flicker of hunger he wasn’t bothering to hide.

“So what have you been up to all these years?” she asked, her voice cool, though her pulse was anything but.

He tilted his head, smile curling slow. “You want the polite answer or the real one?”

Jess raised an eyebrow. “Give me the one I’d recognize.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “Built a company. Bought a place in the city. Had some forgettable relationships. And about once a year, I thought about you and got hard.”

She blinked, the bluntness of it hitting her like a spark to dry kindling.

“You always did know how to talk to a girl,” she said, trying to sound amused, but her voice came out softer than she intended. Warmer.

“I knew how to talk to you,” he corrected. “Still do.”

She looked away, just for a second — just long enough to catch her breath — but he reached up, fingers ghosting just beneath her chin, coaxing her eyes back to his. That single touch, so light it barely registered, set off a cascade of sensation down her spine.

“You wore this perfume in high school,” he murmured. “Lilac and something darker underneath.”

Her stomach flipped.

“You remember that?”

“I remember a lot of things. The way your breath caught when I kissed your neck. The way your legs shook after you—”

“Ty,” she warned, but it wasn’t really a warning. It was a plea. Or maybe an invitation.

He smiled again — slow and dangerous. “You still trying to pretend you don’t want this?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The silence between them was thick with it.

He leaned in, just a breath from her ear. His lips didn’t touch her, but his words did.

“I’m not going to kiss you here,” he whispered. “Not yet. You’re going to follow me upstairs. And when I do kiss you… it’s not going to stop there.”

Jess swallowed hard.

“Unless you want to walk away,” he added, stepping back — giving her space, giving her the choice.

But her body had already made the decision.

She stood.

And without a word, she followed.

The hotel suite was sleek, expensive, and quiet. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Jess felt the air shift — like the room itself knew what was about to happen.

She turned toward him, her breath shallow. But Tyler didn’t come to her right away. He removed his jacket, slow and smooth, then draped it over the chair like this was any other night. Like he wasn’t about to wreck her.

“Take off your shoes,” he said, voice low but firm.

She hesitated — just a second. Then obeyed.

That smile again. A little darker now.

“Good girl.”

A jolt ran through her, low and hot. God, she’d missed this — the way he took over without asking, how his voice could drop her to her knees without a single touch.

“Come here.”

She crossed the room slowly. Each step felt like surrender.

When she reached him, he circled behind her — close, but not touching — and spoke just beside her ear.

“Hands behind your back.”

Her breath caught, but she obeyed. He took a silk tie from his back pocket — the same deep navy he used to wear in school, the one she once teased him about — and tied her wrists gently but firmly.

“Too tight?”

“No,” she whispered.

He stepped in close, one hand sliding along her hip, the other drifting up to graze her throat. Still barely touching, just enough to make her crave more.

“I’ve thought about this,” he said. “About you, like this. All grown up. No more limits. No more hiding.”

His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You’re mine tonight.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Then he turned her to face him.

“On your knees.”

She dropped without hesitation, her eyes locked on his as she knelt before him — wrists bound, chest rising with each breath. Tyler looked down at her like he was starving.

“Open.”

She did.

He unbuckled his belt, slow, the sound sharp in the silence. Then his hand tangled in her hair — not rough, but possessive — guiding her exactly how he wanted.

What followed was wordless. Intense. His control, her surrender — every movement deliberate, every reaction earned. She moaned around him, and he tightened his grip, whispering filth that made her thighs clench.

But he didn’t let her finish him. Not yet.

“Stand,” he ordered, breath ragged.

She rose, and he turned her toward the wall — pressing her palms flat against it. His hands explored her now, unapologetic, relearning every curve, every sound she made when he touched her just right. He lifted her skirt. No panties.

“You remembered.”

He smiled, dark and hungry. “You always liked the risk.”

She gasped when he pushed inside her, hard and deep, no teasing now — just years of tension snapping all at once. He gripped her hips, drove into her like he’d waited decades. The tie around her wrists tightened as she braced herself, whimpering his name.

“Say it,” he growled against her neck. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” she moaned. “God, Tyler… you.”

He didn’t stop until she was shaking — until her knees buckled and her cries filled the room.

Only then did he let himself go, groaning into her hair as he finished inside her, pulsing with the same intensity he had twenty years ago — only deeper, harder, more real.

They stayed there a moment. Breathing. Still tangled. His hands never left her body.

And when he finally untied her wrists and turned her to face him, she didn’t say anything.

She just kissed him — slow, messy, full of everything words couldn’t hold.

He carried her to the bed like he couldn’t stand to be out of her — like the space between bodies felt like betrayal. She was still catching her breath, thighs slick, wrists tender from the tie, and already he was undoing the buttons on her blouse — slow, deliberate, lips dragging down her throat as he did.

“You still want more?” he asked, voice low and rough against her skin.

She didn’t answer with words. She bit his bottom lip, just enough to sting.

He growled — actually growled — and shoved her onto the mattress. Her hair fanned out, legs parted instinctively. He stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at her like a man possessed.

“Stay still.”

Jess barely had time to blink before he was binding her again — wrists now tied to the headboard with his tie, ankles spread and fastened with his belt and hers, makeshift restraints that made her tremble in anticipation.

“You always wanted it rougher,” he murmured. “But I had no idea how deep you needed it.”

His fingers dragged down her torso, nails scraping lightly, just enough to make her arch. He took his time — tasting her, teasing her — lips over every inch she never let anyone else explore. He didn’t ask. He took, and she gave, helpless and open, moaning his name like a prayer.

He didn’t let her come.

Not once. Not yet.

“Ty—please—”

“Oh, now you beg?”

He licked her slowly, deliberately, then pulled away before the peak. She writhed in her bonds, panting, furious with need.

“You’ve always had this bratty streak,” he said, climbing over her, pinning her with just his gaze. “Guess I should’ve handled it sooner.”

She glared up at him — furious, wild, aroused beyond reason.

“What are you going to do about it?” she hissed, challenging him.

That was the moment something shifted in him. Something darker flickered behind his eyes. Dangerous.

“Keep testing me,” he said. “See what happens.”

He reached beneath the bed — she hadn’t noticed the black bag he brought in earlier. He pulled out a leather strap and a slender, chrome toy that made her breath stop.

“You trust me?”

Jess nodded, eyes wide.

“Say it.”

“I trust you.”

“Good. Because now… I’m going to make you scream.”

What followed was a blur of pleasure and discipline — impact that burned, ice and heat, his mouth driving her wild while his voice kept her grounded. She lost count of how many times he pushed her to the edge and dragged her back. Her body was wrecked, desperate. Her mind floated somewhere between pain and ecstasy, held only by the grip of his hands and the sound of her name on his lips.

Finally, he slid into her again — slower now, deeper. Like he needed to feel every inch, to claim it all over again. No teasing this time. No games. Just raw, endless rhythm that made her cry out, her release hitting so hard it felt like surrender.

She came undone, completely.

And this time, he let go with her — groaning her name, collapsing over her, both of them trembling from everything they’d held back for two decades.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Then, without lifting his head from the crook of her neck, he whispered:

“You’re not getting away again.”

She didn’t want to.

Time blurred. Jess wasn’t sure how long they’d been tangled together, only that her body was marked — flushed, bruised, aching in the best ways. Her skin wore the story of what he’d done to her. But Tyler wasn’t finished. Not even close.

He rolled off her, slick with sweat, chest heaving. For a moment he just looked at her — spread, spent, still tied. And then… he smiled.

“That wasn’t the end,” he said.

She shivered.

He got up and moved around the room. Calm. Intentional. Opened the closet. Unzipped another bag. She heard the metallic clink of buckles, the soft leather pull of restraints, and something else — a low buzz.

Her body tensed with anticipation.

“Color?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Her voice was hoarse, but steady. “Green.”

Tyler returned with precision in his steps, dominance in his posture. He climbed onto the bed, and straddled her waist — just above, just enough to make her feel helpless again.

“Let’s go deeper,” he said, voice almost gentle. “Let me break you down.”

He replaced the silk tie with padded cuffs — locking her to the headboard, each click deliberate, final. Her ankles were next, secured wider now. Spread open like an offering.

He kissed her lips, tender for just a second, before his hand gripped her jaw.

“No coming until I say. And if you beg? I’ll make you wait longer.”

Jess moaned, already squirming. He slid the blindfold over her eyes — darkness sharpening every nerve — and then came the first sting.

Crack.

A riding crop, soft leather at first. Across her thighs, her stomach, between her legs. Not hard — not yet — but enough to pull sounds from her she didn’t know she could make. He praised her for every reaction.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “You were made for this.”

He slipped a vibrating plug inside her — slow, torturous — and turned it on low. Her whole body clenched.

She was already dripping.

Tyler knelt between her legs, spreading her with his fingers, breath ghosting across her soaked, swollen heat.

“So wet and I’ve barely touched you,” he growled. “You need this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes…”

“I didn’t say speak.”

He slapped her inner thigh, sharp enough to burn, and she cried out — from pain, from arousal, from the way he owned her now.

The toy stayed inside her as he played her like an instrument — mouth, fingers, the crop. He teased and tormented, edged her over and over until she was sobbing, hips bucking, her voice breaking as she begged through clenched teeth.

“Please… please, Tyler, I can’t—”

“You can,” he snapped. “You will. Because I say when you come, and until then, you’re mine to use. My good girl. My little plaything.”

He added a clamp to each nipple, tightening them with slow precision. The pain made her vision explode with stars behind the blindfold. Her hips lifted involuntarily.

“Such a beautiful slut,” he whispered, licking over one tight bud. “You were always meant for this. All those years wasted, pretending you didn’t crave being broken.”

Her body bucked hard. He grabbed her throat, not choking — just holding — grounding her as she fell apart.

Then, finally, when her moans were just incoherent pleas…

“Now.”

He pulled the clamps off — the rush of blood, the agony and relief — and slid inside her at the same moment. Deep. Relentless. His fingers dug into her hips. The toy still buzzed inside her. She shattered the second he gave her permission, screaming as her orgasm tore through her, wild and shaking. He didn’t stop.

He kept going until she was crying from pleasure, from the force of it, until he came again — louder this time, raw and broken, spilling into her as his body finally collapsed.

Silence.

Only the sound of their breathing — harsh, tangled, alive.

He pulled off the blindfold. Looked into her tear-streaked, dazed eyes.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

Jess nodded, too spent to speak.

He kissed her forehead. “And next time… we go deeper.”

Tyler didn’t move right away.

He just held her.

His hands — the same ones that had bound, gripped, spanked, owned her — were now moving with the softest care. One brushed sweaty strands of hair from her face. The other stroked down her thigh, slow and steady, like he was reminding her she was safe now.

Jess blinked up at him, dazed, her body limp and used in the best way. Her chest still rose and fell like she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened — or maybe because part of her didn’t want to let it go.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re alright, baby?”

Her throat was dry, but her voice came out clear. “Yeah. I’m okay. I’m… better than okay.”

“Color?”

“Still green,” she whispered. “But very, very floaty.”

Tyler chuckled, the sound low and full of warmth. “Good. Stay right there, I’ve got you.”

He unlocked the cuffs with careful fingers, gently massaging each wrist after. Kissed the tender skin, touched every mark he’d left on her like he was saying thank you — or maybe I’m sorry, or maybe both.

When her ankles were freed, he slid under the sheets with her and pulled her against his chest, wrapping her up tight. The contrast was striking: his big, strong body wrapped protectively around hers, the way his voice dropped softer now, like she might break if he raised it.

“You were incredible,” he murmured into her hair. “So perfect for me. So strong.”

Jess curled into him, resting her cheek against his bare chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of his skin soothed her. His scent — that mix of sex, sweat, and something unmistakably him — grounded her.

“I missed this,” she whispered.

“I missed you,” he corrected. “Every damn day.”

She didn’t speak for a while. Neither did he. They just lay there, tangled, sharing breath and silence. His hands never stopped moving — stroking her back, her hips, brushing her hair.

Eventually, he reached over to the nightstand, pulled out a bottle of water, and brought it to her lips.

“Drink, sweetheart.”

She obeyed without thinking, letting him take care of her, her body still warm and heavy with satisfaction.

He smiled when she finished. “That’s my girl.”

She let out a small, sleepy laugh. “You always used to say that.”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing a kiss over her collarbone. “Because you always were.”

Jess tilted her head up, and he kissed her — soft, slow, like the first time they ever had. No dominance, no demand. Just love. Just truth.

“Stay the night,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

He pulled the blanket over them and tucked her into his chest like something precious.

And in the quiet of that hotel room — two decades late but perfectly timed — they finally fell asleep, bodies still humming, hearts finally home.