Because these couples live rent-free in my mind, they can now live in yours, too, for all six of my faithful followers. Taking requests for any missing moments you'd like to see from the couples you already love, or ones you haven't seen enough of. I'll post details/couples in the beginning and chapter titles so you can choose your favorites.

Story: The Great Gatsby (and Other Loads of Garbage), immediately after Chapter 26

Couple: Brady & Mia

Notes: Brady is such a simp lol. I was excited to write a more *ahem* realistic portrayal of sex. Y'all know my take on imprint sex, and I really wanted this to make it more clear of the difference.


Mia Shelton is standing outside my door.

It's not that I'm not thankful—because fuck, it's Mia Shelton. Girl of my dreams. It's just that—

"What are you doing here?" I ask huskily. My Golden Retriever Betty winds her way around our ankles, and Mia stoops down to give her a scratch behind the ears.

The last time Mia and I were alone together had been months ago, back in the fall after Omar's birthday. That fucking karaoke nightmare. I had a hangover for a week. Of course, it wasn't just the copious amounts of alcohol. It was Mia.

It will always be Mia.

She shifts on her feet, the skirt of her yellow sundress ruffling around her knees. There's a duffle bag on her shoulder. I make her nervous; I can tell by the way her heart races at the sight of my bare chest.

"What's your dog's name?" Mia asks.

"Betty," I say.

Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "Betty?"

"My favorite Golden girl."

Her mouth, the one that I've never kissed but always imagined to taste inexplicably like spearmint, twitches. "Clever."

Mia takes a tentative step inside, Betty getting more excited about the prospect of a new victim for belly rubs. That Night, we wound up at her place because it was closer. The sight of Mia, brightening my doorway in that sunshine yellow—like her hair—has me going a little hard.

What can I say? I've always loved golden girls.

"You said if I ever wanted this for real, all I'd have to do was kiss you," she says, her thumb hooking under the strap of her bag before sliding it off. She sets it on the ground gently; we all watch.

And then I watch as Mia takes two steps inside, her eyes glassing at the bottom before fluttering shut. "Brady," she whispers. "It was a really hard day."

"It was," I agree. It's never easy when citizens die on our watch. But today, like Mia said, was something else. There wasn't a dry eye when Quil finally made the call. By the time we left, no one was speaking.

"I really need to kiss you," she says, her shaking hands coming to rest on my chest. If she focuses hard enough, she'll notice my pulse speed at her touch. "Please."

I tell Betty to go to her bed, and she listens without delay, ever obedient.

And then I swallow, resting my hand on Mia's hip. The fabric is soft beneath my skin. The way I know Mia's skin is. I cradle her face, run my thumb along her cheekbone. "You don't have to ask, baby."

So she doesn't. She stretches onto the balls of her feet, inhaling seconds before our lips connect.

And she does, inexplicably, taste like spearmint.

Her fingers wind into my hair, tugging me closer, closer. She's moving fast, but I want slow. I want to take my time with her, explore her the way I didn't get to last time. I'm half terrified this will be all she gives me, and if so, I'm going to stretch the moments as long as possible. Catalog every gasp and sigh and breath. Our lips slip together and apart, over and over again. Her tongue wraps around mine.

In a move that would impress even the best of them, I swing the door shut with one hand, walk her back with the other. By the time her head is against the door, my hand is there to catch her. Always. I will always be there to catch her.

My foot nudges her duffle bag—a really good sign—as I step closer, bringing my hips flush with hers. My arousal is glaringly obvious, and Mia whimpers at the feel of it. Before I tell them to, my hands fumble for the hem of her dress, sliding along the smooth skin of her thighs. She pulls away, gasping for breath, and I reacquaint myself with her neck.

"Bray," she murmurs. Fuck, she gave me a nickname? That's hot. "Bedroom. My knees are weak."

I grin against the hollow beneath her ear. "So eager. Don't worry, baby. We have all night."

Eventually, though, her knees really do give out. Humble brag. I catch her around the back, pick her up in a way that lets me keep kissing her, has her dress tangling between two sets of legs. I usually don't shut the door to my room—Betty has a spot in here, too—but this is extenuating circumstances.

I lay Mia on the bed, thankful as fuck I made it not ten minutes before she got here. (When I have a hard day at work, I stress clean. Sue me.)

"What should I do to you first?" I say. She looks like an angel, honestly, and I already know I'm a lucky son of a bitch, even if all she wants to do is kiss.

Her cheekbones are lighting up pink, the way they do after a hard workout. "I have a few suggestions."

"By all means, please share."

"Take off your pants," she breathes, her eyes dark and hooded.

I look down at my sweatpants. Gray, of course. "These old things?" She nods, and I thank all the gods in all the worlds. "Of course, baby. Anything for you. But you should know…" I hook my thumbs in the waistband and shove them down. Mia chokes on her tongue. "I don't wear underwear with these."

She stares at my erection, growing harder as she does, and my body heats under her gaze.

"Can I take my time with you tonight, baby?" My throat is raw, already sexed up even though all we've done is make out and participate in some light fondling.

She nods, letting her head fall against my pillow. I crawl over her body, the fabric of her dress scraping my cock as I settle my mouth on hers. It's delicious and obscene and, honestly, really doing it for me. If she lets us go all the way, I'll need to make her come before I slide inside her. Don't want to embarrass myself, especially since it's been a while.

"Before we go any farther," she says as I reach for her hips, and I freeze. "I have a thing."

I sit back on my haunches, breathing harder than I want. "A thing, like a kink?"

She laughs, and I'm glad to hear she also sounds a little breathless. "A thing, like endometriosis."

I nod, reworking my plans for her instantly, even as my heart breaks for her. "I've heard of that. It can make things painful, right?"

"Very." Her cheekbones stripe with red. "I just want you to know that certain positions are a no-go. And rough sex will rarely be on the table."

"Oh, Mia," I say. "There are ways to have rough sex without hurting you." I lean over her, nuzzling the dip of her cleavage with my nose. "I'll show you one day, if you want. But for now, just let me know if something is—or isn't—working."

"It's not a dealbreaker for you?" Her gaze wanders away, and I know she's remembering some experience from her past, someone who made her feel less than for her body's differences. People can be such fuckers, can't they?

"There are no dealbreakers with you," I say.

My words must have been the right ones, because she grasps my neck and pulls me down to kiss her again. Our bodies move sensuously, languid, slick like water. When I find the courage to move my hand from her hip to her chest, I figure out she likes that too. Mia alternates between grinding her hips into the mattress, into me, or shifting so her knees rub together. The smell of her is overpowering. Sunshine and sex.

My palm slides up her thigh and meets soaked silk. "Is this how bad you need me?"

She whimpers, the muscles of her biceps straining as she grabs at the sheets. Mia is one of the strongest women I know, but damn if I don't love making her weak.

Her eyes flutter open. "Brady, will you—fuck, why do I still have my clothes on?"

We laugh together as we take in her fully clothed state and my fully nude one. She pushes on my shoulders so I'll sit back. Mia follows me to sitting and raises her dress over her head.

"Shit," I say, my voice scratching as it falls out of my mouth. "Look at you."

"The fun thing about me," Mia says, "is that you can look and touch."

Ah, fuck. "You want me to touch you?" Tentatively, I reach out and run my thumb across her the apple of her cheek, the smattering of freckles that only reveal themselves on the off chance her skin is flushed.

Her eyes flutter closed. "Everywhere."

I allow my eyes to wander her body: her torso is toned and tight; the dip of her waist looks the perfect size for my hands. And mercy, her tits. They round ever so slightly out of the cups of her sheer white bra. Her nipples are hard points beneath the fabric.

God, she's perfect. She's everything.

My thumb trails down her jaw, over her racing pulse. "Here?"

"Mmhmm," she murmurs, the slightest of smiles gracing her face. I feel it in my heart.

I move to the valley between her breasts. "And here?"

"Yes," she breathes. Her hips shift, just slightly, enough to let me know I'm not the only one getting warmer.

"So you must want me here most of all," I say, reacquainting my hand with the little patch of silk between her legs.

Mia spews something unintelligible, and I watch her face flush instantly, eyes rolling back.

"Mia," I say. "Do I get to taste you here? Will you let me?"

Her eyes fly open, her pupils swallowing up the golden brown of her irises. "Please."

That's all it takes for her panties to hit the floor.

The first swipe of my tongue is nearly ruined when she jerks off the mattress. But I just wedge my fingers into the crease of her hips and taste her again. She is the pure essence of woman in my mouth, tangy and sweet. I groan and inhale her, letting my nose tickle through her blonde patch of curls.

Something stings against my scalp—her fingers, pulling hard. "Brady. Don't tease."

"You don't know how long I've wanted this, baby. I wouldn't dare," I say.

And then I get to work.

I learn her, the movements I make that cause reactions in her. She likes light, teasing brushes of tongue, little kisses around her clit. And I want to do anything and everything she likes, because I love her. If I think too hard about the fact that the woman I love, have loved for years, is in my bed, I won't last a minute. Even still, I end up grinding into the mattress, heat lacing my blood with every heartbeat.

She is trembling beneath me. "I don't—" Her thighs squeeze my head, and I welcome her, chase her as she pumps her hips. I drink her up, let her take as much pleasure as she needs. "I don't usually come like this."

"Mia," I whisper into the skin of her thigh. "I just want you to feel good. If you come, you come. Otherwise, just tell me when to stop."

Mia gasps when I run a finger down the seam of her. I sink a fingertip in, but she's so slick and tight it sucks me in to my knuckle. We groan together.

"How tight you are, baby," I murmur. "Are you okay?"

I look up just in time to see her nod, and then my tongue finds her clit again.

I love going down on a woman, have her gripping the sheets and my hair and her tits. When I have to chase her up the mattress. Her heels in my back. Feeling her grow slicker from my tongue and her own arousal.

But with Mia, it's a heavenly experience. My tongue says prayers my ears will never hear. My hands worship her body. My eyes look up to the altar of her face.

"Brady," she moans. "Brady, I need—I can't—come here."

I kiss her, and she whimpers at the taste of herself on my tongue. Her body is tight and writhing beneath me, and this is the best sex I've ever had, even if we stop here. I want her forever like this: her head on my pillow, her nails in my skin, her lips on my throat.

Her bra lands on the nightstand, and I spend time getting to know her nipples with my mouth. Her tits are on the tiny side, but they fit her body perfectly, and fill my palms just as.

Her hands wander, and when one of them wraps around me, I curse under my breath.

"Now," she says, tugging me up by my cock. "Fuck me now." She blinks up at me, her pupils blown wide. "Baby."

Goddamnit, this woman. I shudder, feeling my tip along her slit. So close. I'm so close to her. But not close enough.

"Do we need—" I fumble for my nightstand drawer, praying for a spare condom. I come up short, and disappointment nearly blows me over. I look down at her one more time and pull out a Hail Mary. "I'm clean?"

"Me too." She grabs a pillow and puts it under her hips. I love that she's comfortable enough to take what she needs.

I blink down at her, forcing my sluggish and lusted-out brain to process her words. "You're gonna let me raw dog it?"

She laughs, loud and abrasive. "Oh my God, only as long as you promise never to call it that again." She reaches down to align us further.

"Promise," I say. And I slide home.

I fell in love with Mia the first time I saw her, and spent every day, month, year since then getting her to fall in love with me, too. And while I'm not dense enough to think sex equals love, I do think at lest some part of her wants to let down her walls. Wants to let me tear them down, brick by brick, with my bare hands.

Her eyes flutter shut as I withdraw and return, excruciatingly slow.

"Oh," she says as her fingers sink into my shoulders. "Oh."

My chest burns, right at the center where my heart sits. How much stronger would this connection be if I had imprinted on her that first day? She's already at the center of every day, every thought, every dream. I've imagined our wedding, our children. My mom knows all about her.

I never minded playing the long game with Mia, because I knew eventually I'd win. She knew it, too, I think.

I reach down between us, massaging her clit with my thumb. Gotta make it feel like heaven for her. "This okay?"

Her cheeks go bright red instantly, her hips bucking. "Close. I'm close, Brady." She sounds surprised.

I'm surprised, too. And proud. And happy.

And close. Too close.

"Ah fuck," I say. I try all the tricks—counting backwards in Spanish, baseball rosters—but nothing works. It's too much. It's been too long. And this is Mia. I'm about to fucking shoot my fucking load in fifteen fucking seconds with the girl of my fucking dreams. "Baby, I'm not— I can't—"

"It's okay," she murmurs, her teeth sinking into my neck. "Make it feel good for you."

It's funny, but when she says it's okay, I believe it.

My senses get turned to eleven. My ears eat up every hitch of breath, the colors of her bright and loud. Her nails scrape my shoulder and leave marks on my soul.

"Gonna come," I manage to say, and she says, "Inside me," and that's the game.

Fireworks burst under my skin, in my gut, and it's so powerful my muscles give out. I collapse, still locked tight. She takes over, moving her hips just the slightest bit to help me finish properly. My groaning turns to a laugh of disbelief at her sly trick.

Finally, we come to a slow stop. Together.

"I promise," I murmur into her neck after I kiss her there. "It's not usually that fast. I just—I've wanted you forever, Mia. And it's been a while."

"Look at me?" Her hands are soft up and down my back. When I do, her eyes are gleaming with happiness, the pupils still dilated with arousal.

I can't resist. I lean down and kiss her again.

"I'm flattered," she says with a giggle against my mouth. I'm still inside her, and her laugh makes that painfully—blissfully—obvious.

Going half hard again, I note, "You didn't come."

"I told you," she says, almost shyly now. "It doesn't usually happen for me this way."

I pull back, scooting against the headboard and opening my legs. My bones are liquid, so admittedly it takes a minute. I gesture to my chest. "Come here? I wanna try something."

Mia adjusts herself, nestles her ass back against my cock. And there's no half anything anymore. Feeling it, she looks so over her shoulder at me and grins. "Wow."

"What can I say?" I grin, just enjoying the way her skin feels on mine in this new way. She has a tattoo of some cursive saying marking her spine, one I can't read from this angle, and I nearly give myself a back spasm bending over to kiss it.

It takes me no time to discover she really likes being kissed there. Her nape, even more so. My hands are only trailing her hips and waist and she's already digging her heels into the mattress, wiggling against my dick.

I give her what she wants, touching her where she's warm and so, so slick. Her head falls to my shoulder, her nails clamping on my thigh. I can tell she's more relaxed now, and it makes me feel a little better about blowing my load so early. Without the weight of me, she's able to move with my hands, give me more of herself.

When I dip my fingers down and feel my release leaking from her, I groan. There's no half anything about what's happening downstairs now.

"Mia," I murmur in between nips of her ear and neck. The sounds of us fill the room, wet and breathy and persistent. I slide two fingers down to her entrance, making a bigger mess of her. My other hand finds her clit. "I've always wanted you."

She nods, squirming in my arms. "I know." Her hands are all over. So are mine.

"You don't," I growl. "I deleted every casual hookup from my phone five minutes after I met you. In the bathroom at work."

Her pulse skyrockets, and her whimpers grow more desperate. There's more emotion tied to Mia's arousal than I first realized. I can work with this.

It doesn't happen instantly, but I absolutely do not mind. She reaches down to show me pressures she likes, angles. And I whisper words of affirmation in her hair, along her shoulders and spine. Good girl, I say, and Look how perfect. I've wanted you so long.

"And whenever you're ready for me, I'm here. In as few or as many words as you need. If you need the 'I love you' ones, they're yours."

"Brady?" Her fingers have clamped around my wrist, like I would dare think about pulling away when she's on the edge like this. Everything in her is tense, a heartbeat away from oblivion. "You said it's been a while. How long?"

She clearly knows the answer, but I tell her anyway. "Since I met you."

With those words, she explodes into pleasure, and I bury my self-satisfied smirk into her hair. She shakes, and I hold her to me as she murmurs nonsense and thrashes in my arms. I murmur my praise in return. When her head finally collapses against my shoulder, I kiss her nape lightly.

"Well," she says, primly and breathless. "That was fun. Same time tomorrow?"

My body tightens before she looks over her shoulder at me and bursts out laughing.

"Oh, you evil woman," I say, reaching to tickle her ribs.

"I brought a duffle bag," she says when she's on her back, trying to escape my hands. Then she groans and flops over, face down. "Brady, I brought a duffle bag."

I grin, kissing the end of her spine tattoo. It stops a few inches above her ass. On Karaoke Night, her shirt never even made it off. This was there the whole time, one inch away from driving me crazy. "I love your enthusiasm."

"Someone seems pretty enthusiastic themselves," she says, shifting her hip into my cock.

"I just like touching you," I say, smoothing her hair out of my way and dragging my hands along her spine.

"Oh my God," she moans when I start kneading her neck. "A post-sex massage? Who the fuck are you?"

I dig my thumbs lightly into the tight knots of her shoulders, glad she can't see my goofy smile.

"I already told you," I say. "I'm the love of your life."