The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, revealing the opulent interior of Skye’s penthouse. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the space in a warm, golden glow.

Skye walks towards the kitchen area, her movements slightly hesitant. The open floor plan allows me to watch as she reaches for a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid, probably some ridiculously expensive whiskey. The clink of glass against glass echoes in the quiet space as she pours herself a generous measure.

I settle onto the luxurious leather couch, sinking into its softness. From here, I have a perfect view of Skye’s profile, backlit by the setting sun.

“What’s wrong, honey?” I ask, noticing the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers grip the glass just a little too tightly.

Skye turns to face me, her emerald eyes swirling with a mix of emotions I can’t quite decipher. She takes a long sip of her drink before speaking, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Luke,” she begins, her words careful and measured, “why did you put up with such a possessive ex-wife?”

I can’t help the small chuckle that escapes me. It’s almost comical how she’s essentially admitting to her own toxic behavior, but only by calling out my old Skye. The irony isn’t lost on me and for a moment.

“Because I loved her,” I reply simply.

Skye’s eyebrows furrow, creating a small crease between them. She takes another sip of her whiskey, the ice cubes clinking against the crystal as she swirls the liquid thoughtfully.

“But she hurt you, didn’t she?” Skye presses her voice a mixture of confusion and something that sounds almost like concern. “She isolated you from your family, from your friends. How could you love someone who did that to you?”

I pause, considering Skye’s words carefully. The memories of my past life, of my relationship with the other Skye, flood back in a bittersweet rush. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before I speak.

“Did I mention she hurt me?” I ask softly.

Skye’s emerald eyes widen, a mixture of shock and concern swirling in their depths. She takes a step closer, her movements cautious as if approaching a wounded animal.

“Did she hit you?” Skye asks her voice tight with barely contained anger.

I shake my head slowly, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “There was some light torture,” I admit, the words feeling strange on my tongue.

As soon as the confession leaves my lips, I feel my body begin to tremble. Unbidden, memories of that summer before senior year come rushing back, vivid and painful. The isolated cabin in the woods, the long days and longer nights, the fear and confusion mingling with a twisted kind of love. I close my eyes, trying to push the images of the bad stuff away, but they persist, flickering behind my eyelids like a grotesque slideshow.

“She kidnapped me,” I continue, smiling remembering how excited she was. “Brought me to this cabin the summer before senior year. It was... intense.”

Skye’s sharp intake of breath cuts through the heavy silence that’s fallen over the penthouse. When I open my eyes, I see her standing frozen, the crystal glass forgotten in her hand, whiskey threatening to spill over the rim.

“But,” I say, my eyes growing distant as I ponder the complexities of that relationship, “she was always there for me before that. And even more so after that, too.” I swallow hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I loved her before the torture, you know? And I loved her more after it.”

Skye’s emerald eyes widen, a mix of fascination and horror swirling in their depths. She sets her glass down on the nearby coffee table with a soft clink, then moves closer to me, her steps measured and deliberate.

“You like pain?” There’s a hint of jealousy in her tone.

I shake my head vehemently, feeling a shudder run through my body at the mere suggestion. “No, pain scares me to my core. Only a few things bother me more than pain.”

“But that summer,” I continue, my voice taking on a dreamy quality as memories flood back. “That summer was probably the happiest time in my life.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. I can see the gears turning in Skye’s mind, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly as she processes this information.

“Why?” Skye asks her voice tight with barely contained emotion. “Why did she bring you to the cabin?”

I take a deep breath, my eyes growing distant as I delve into the memories of that fateful summer. The penthouse around me seems to fade away, replaced by vivid images of a rustic cabin nestled deep in the woods.

“I think she was nervous I’d reject her,” my voice soft and contemplative.

I pause, running a hand through my hair as I struggle to put the complex emotions into words. “The first day, I was so scared. I begged her to let me go.” A rueful smile tugs at my lips. “I think she took that as the rejection she so feared, so she employed... tools to help convince me.”

Skye’s emerald eyes widen, a mixture of fascination and horror swirling in their depths. She leans forward, hanging on my every word.

“I was already used to her being odd, but that was the first time she scared me to that degree.”

I continue. “The first time she stabbed me was also right before I lost my virginity.”

I feel a blush creep up my neck, spreading across my cheeks as I recall the intensity of that moment. A soft sigh escapes my lips, equal parts nostalgia, embarrassment, and terror.

“It was... extreme,” I murmur, my eyes unfocused as I relive the memory. “The pain, the fear, but also this overwhelming sense of connection. Like nothing else in the world mattered except the two of us in that moment.”

“It took another week in that cabin before I understood what she was doing was out of true, unmistakable love,” I add.

I pause, lost in the vivid memories. “She whispered to me for hours, holding me while the drugs slowly left my system. She told me about her fears, her dreams, how she couldn’t bear the thought of losing me. And slowly, I began to understand the true depth of her love.”

As I finish speaking, I look up at Skye, expecting to see understanding or perhaps even a hint of that same possessive love in her emerald eyes. Instead, I’m met with a smug expression.

“Your sister was right,” Skye says, her voice flat and cold. “You really are fucking broken.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. Panic rises in my chest, a familiar fear of abandonment clawing at my insides.

‘What if she thinks I’m to broken to be with?’

I lunge forward, my hand grasping Skye’s arm with desperate intensity.

“Please,” I beg, my voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t throw me away. I need you, Skye. I can’t lose you again.”

Skye’s emerald eyes flash with a sudden intensity, a predatory gleam dancing in their depths. Her lips curve into a manic smile that sends shivers down my spine. Slowly, deliberately, she raises her hand, her nails hovering just millimeters from my skin.

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With exquisite precision, she traces the contours of my face, her nail leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. The touch is feather-light yet charged with an undercurrent of danger that makes my heart race. Her nails skims along my jawline, up the curve of my cheek, pausing at the corner of my eye where a bead of moisture has gathered.

Skye’s smile widens. Her emerald eyes bore into mine, filled with a hunger that exhilarates me.

“Stay desperate for me, Lucas,” Skye purrs, her voice low and hypnotic. Her nail traces the outline of my lips, applying just enough pressure to be felt but not enough to break the skin. “And I promise, I’ll always be here for you.”

With trembling hands, I reach for Skye, gently pulling her onto the couch on top of me. As she straddles my hips, I gaze up into her emerald eyes, drowning in their depths.

“Always,” I say, my voice filled with reverence and need.

Skye’s lips curve into a smile that’s equal parts tender and predatory. Her hands move from my face, trailing fire along my neck and chest before coming to rest on my stomach. The warmth of her touch seeps through the thin fabric of my shirt, igniting sparks beneath my skin.

With exquisite slowness, Skye begins to lift the hem of my shirt. Her fingers dance along my abdomen, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I arch my back slightly, allowing her to pull the garment over my head.

My hands find the curve of her waist, marveling at the softness of her skin beneath the silky material of her blouse. I begin to unbutton her shirt, each newly revealed inch of skin a treasure to be cherished. Skye watches me intently, her emerald eyes dark with desire.

As the last button comes undone, Skye shrugs off her blouse, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. Our lips meet in a passionate kiss, hungry and desperate. Skye’s fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as if she could devour me whole.

Our lips part, both of us breathless. Skye’s emerald eyes blaze with an intensity that makes my heart race. Her hands move to my waist, fingers deftly working at my belt buckle. There’s an obsessional energy to her movements as she unbuttons my pants, her breath coming in short, eager gasps.

In one fluid motion, she yanks down my pants and underwear together, tossing them aside with reckless abandon. The cool air of the penthouse whispers across my newly exposed skin.

Skye stands, her movements graceful yet urgent. Her own clothes follow suit, joining mine on the floor in a haphazard pile.

As her gaze falls to my aroused state, I catch sight of her own excitement. A glistening trail of moisture trickles down her inner thigh, evidence of her intense arousal. The sight sends a jolt of desire through me, making my pulse quicken.

Skye moves closer, her movements slow and deliberate now, a stark contrast to her earlier frenzy. She straddles me once more, the heat of her body tantalizingly close. With gentle pressure, she presses her thumb against my lips. Instinctively, I part them, allowing her digit to slip into my mouth.

Our eyes lock as she begins to lower herself onto me. The feeling is indescribable, warm, wet, and incredibly tight. Skye’s breath hitches as she takes me in, her emerald eyes growing wide with pleasure.

Suddenly, her body goes rigid. A low, guttural moan escapes her lips as she begins to tremble. Her inner muscles clench around me rhythmically as waves of pleasure wash over her. Skye’s head falls back, her long hair cascading down her back as she rides out her unexpected climax.

She convulses wildly as the orgasm overtakes her, her body shuddering uncontrollably. Waves of pleasure crash over Skye, causing her back to arch and her fingers to dig into my shoulders. Her emerald eyes, usually so sharp and focused, roll back as she loses herself to the sensations coursing through her.

Suddenly, mid-climax, panic flashes across Skye’s face. Her eyes widen, a look of shock and dismay replacing the blissful expression of moments before. It’s as if she’s been snapped out of a trance, abruptly aware of her surroundings and her loss of control.

I reach up, cupping her face gently in my hands. My touch seems to ground her for a moment, but then anger flares in those green depths. She pushes my hands away roughly, her cheeks flushing with what I realize must be embarrassment.

Every movement Skye makes sends jolts of pleasure through me. I can’t help but let out a low, drawn-out moan as her inner muscles continue to pulse around me. The friction is exquisite, almost overwhelming in its intensity.

Skye’s anger seems to build with each involuntary tremor that runs through her body. Her jaw clenches, teeth grinding as she fights against the lingering waves of her orgasm. I can almost see the thoughts racing behind her eyes, the mortification at climaxing so quickly, the frustration at losing control.

Understanding dawns on me. This unplanned, rapid release is likely the equivalent of being a quick shot for her, something she views as a sign of weakness or inexperience. Her reaction, the anger, and embarrassment, suddenly make perfect sense.

Determined not to let this moment of vulnerability drive a wedge between us, I reach for her face again. This time, my grip is firmer and more insistent. Skye tries to pull away, but I hold steady, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“Honey,” I say, my voice husky with desire but tinged with tenderness, “stop freaking out. I love watching feel good. There are no egos here.”

As I speak, I begin to move beneath her. Slowly, deliberately, I thrust upwards, savoring the feeling of her warmth enveloping me. A moan escapes my lips, low and primal, as pleasure builds with each movement.

Skye furrows her brow, her emerald eyes flashing with a mixture of determination and lingering frustration. “No egos?” she growls, her voice low. She grabs my wrists, slamming them above my head with enough force to make the leather couch creak in protest.

With my arms pinned, Skye begins to move. Her hips rise and fall in a frenzied rhythm, each downward thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body. She rides me with an almost animalistic intensity, her movements wild and unrestrained. The air around us grows thick and heavy, filled with the sounds of our labored breathing and the slick, heated noises of our joining.

I strain against her grip, not to break free but to match her fervor. My hips buck upwards, meeting her halfway in a dance as old as time itself. Sweat beads on my forehead, trickling down my temples as I struggle to keep pace with Skye’s relentless assault.

Through it all, I can’t tear my eyes away from her face. Skye is a vision of primal beauty above me, her skin flushed and glistening in the fading afternoon light. Her long hair whips around her face with each movement, occasionally obscuring her features before revealing them again, like clouds passing over the sun. Her lips are parted, soft pants and moans escaping with each thrust.

But it’s her eyes that truly captivate me. Those emerald orbs burn with an intensity that threatens to consume me whole. I see flashes of emotion in their depths, desire, frustration, determination, and something deeper, something beautiful. My heart swells with affection, a love so profound it threatens to overwhelm me.

As our bodies move together in perfect synchronicity, Skye’s gaze remains locked on my face. Her expression shifts subtly, the hard edges of her earlier anger softening into something more contemplative. She studies me with an almost scientific curiosity as if trying to decipher the emotions playing across my features.

Suddenly, mid-thrust, Skye lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. The sound is filled with a mixture of exasperation and resignation, but there’s a hint of tenderness underlying it all. Her movements slow, becoming less frantic and more deliberate.

Skye leans down, her body pressing flush against mine. The new angle sends sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine, drawing a low moan from my lips.

Her breath is hot against my ear as she murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

The apology is so soft I almost miss it, but the sincerity in her voice is unmistakable. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability from Skye.

I feel a surge of emotion well up inside me, threatening to overflow.

“I love you,” I speak, my voice thick with emotion. The words tumble out, soft yet charged with an intensity that surprises even me.

Skye’s body stills for a moment, her emerald eyes widening as she processes my declaration. Then, as if a dam has broken, she begins to move again, her hips rolling against mine with renewed passion.

My hands, now free, roam across Skye’s back, tracing the contours of her muscles as they flex and relax with each movement. I can feel her heart racing, its rhythm matching the cadence of our lovemaking.

“I love you,” I say again, the words falling from my lips like a prayer. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” With each repetition, I thrust upwards, punctuating my declaration with physical affirmation.

Skye’s breath hitches, a soft gasp escaping her. Her movements become more urgent, more desperate. She grinds down against me, taking me deeper with each roll of her hips. The friction is exquisite, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

“I love you too, Luke,” she pants out, her voice hoarse. “I love you so much.”

As the words leave her lips, my climax crashes over me like a tidal wave. My entire being seems to contract in on itself as I pour my essence into her, every fiber of my being focused on this one moment of connection. Skye’s walls clench around me, milking every last drop from me as she cries out in ecstasy herself. Our orgasms crash together like two colliding stars, and for a brief, blissful eternity, we’re lost in each other’s arms.

When our breathing finally begins to return to normal, Skye collapses on top of me, her head resting against my chest. Her breath fans across my skin, tickling me in the most delicious way possible. I run my fingers through her hair, reveling in the silky softness of it between my fingers.

Skye lifts her head, her emerald eyes meeting mine. Her cheeks are still flushed, a rosy glow that extends down her neck and across her collarbone.

“Luke,” she says, her voice low and intense. “You can never, ever mention to anyone that I came just sitting on your cock, especially not the news people.”

Her words are firm. I can feel the evidence of our lovemaking, warm and wet, slowly trickling out of her and onto my thighs. The sensation sends a shiver of pleasure through me, a reminder of our intense connection.

“Skye,” I reply softly, reaching up to cup her face in my hands. “I would never do that.”

My thumbs trace gentle circles on her cheekbones as I speak. The air around us is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady mixture that makes my head spin.

Skye looks at me for a long moment, her emerald eyes searching mine as if trying to gauge the sincerity of my words. Then, seemingly satisfied with what she sees, she leans down and captures my lips in a kiss.

The kiss is soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion of moments before. Her lips move against mine with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

‘I hope this lasts forever.’