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“I love you. I love you. I love you,” I shout.
He leans down and kisses me.
“Sleep, my love,” he whispers into my ear sending shivers down my spine. He pulls the covers over us and me closer to him.
I really do love him, I think, as I place kisses all over his chest. I really, really do. I always have and I always will.
CHAPTER TEN
CONNALL
Raleigh, North Carolina, is also turning out to be unsuccessful, but it is also lots of fun. We met with Edmond Handcock, who was a riot. Apparently, after he left the service, he realized he was gay and loved to dress in women's clothes, so we were greeted by a drag queen. He told us in the only way he could that he never donated but that he wished he had because that would have been his only chance to have a baby. He invited us to a drag show which we gladly went to and had a wonderful time.
With only two days left in this state before we move on to the last place, we decided to go to the North Carolina Museum of Art for today since we both have a love of all art, and she is hell-bent on driving two and a half hours tomorrow to hit Pit Road Bar & Grill in Charlotte, a place Guy Fieri went to of course.
Right now, we are standing in front of Pierre-Jacques Volaire’s Eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. “It’s so strong,” she whispers in reverence. “I mean, you can see the panic in the shading. The way he captured the cover of the city in fire.” I nod my head. I know what she means. I have always loved this painting, but right now, I am more focused on her. This woman consumes my every thought, and now that we have shared the ultimate connection, all I want to do is lock her down and make her my wife. The problem is, we haven’t said I love you outside of being in the throes of passion. I have been waiting for the right moment.
I watch her move on to Portrait of a Woman by Gerrit van Honthrost. This one I am intimately acquainted with because it used to sit in my grandmother's sitting room. “Do you see the resignation in her eyes?” I whisper in her ear, sneaking a sniff of her scent that has soaked into my skin.
“You see resignation?” she asks, looking at me. I nod my head, looking back at the painting, remembering how she reminded me of my long-suffering grandmother, forced into marriage for a merger of families and made to endure the many infidelities of my grandfather and all of his illegitimate children.
“I see a woman embracing her fate and choosing to hold her head up.” Hearing her vision of the work also makes sense. I guess I never looked at my grandmother like that, but that could also be her legacy. Strength.
“I never looked at it that way. Thank you,” I say to her, meaning it. She gave me another view of the woman I was so fond of.
We spent another two hours there before leaving to grab a bite at one of the food trucks on the street. “What would you like?” The owner asks, looking her up and down. She is so unaware of the attention she receives and that is the only thing that saves half these men.
“I will have the stuffed gyro,” she says, bouncing on her feet. I chuckle because that is typical of her. She loves anything with a ton of cheese. I get a hamburger with gruyere cheese, bacon and salami. “Wanna sit over there?” she asks, pointing to a seat.
“Sure, babe.” We sit and dive into our food, which I have to admit is delicious. I look up and see she has cheese hanging from her lip, and I chuckle, wiping it away. She laughs when she realizes it and suddenly, I can no longer hold it in. “God, I love you.” I confess, smiling at her. She is mid-action, taking another bite, when she sits her sandwich down and looks at me. I can see the confusion on her face and the battle within herself, and I don't want her to feel that. “You don’t have to say it back, babe. Not until you are ready.” Her shoulders relax, but my stomach churns. Am I alone?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FEBRUARY
ONE WEEK LATER
“That’s it. Fuck. Take my cock, babe,” he says, slamming into me. Why does this feel so fucking good? When I’m with him, I don’t care about anything else. I just want to be taken by him and loved so thoroughly.
“It’s sooo good,” I whine, as the bed feels like it’s about to break underneath us.
“This pussy is so good, juicy. It’s all mine, isn’t it?” I don’t answer him. I’m too far gone to answer. His hand snakes up my chest and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. He squeezes me and I moan. “Answer me, babe. This little cunt is mine, isn’t it.”
“Yes. It’s yours.”
“You won’t be sharing it with anyone else.”
“No,” I answer, despite that not exactly being a question.
“Good girl,” he says dropping his hand to my throat. He rests it there while he fucks me. I groan when he suddenly pulls out of me. He flips me over onto my belly and up onto my knees. He slams into me from behind. My breasts shake violently. I move my hands to hold them, but that causes me to fall forward, and he slides inside me deeper. Something wet hits my asshole and I know he’s spit on me. Why is that so hot? I moan loudly. “Dirty girl. You want me to own this ass too, don’t you?” he asks, slapping my ass hard as he continues to fuck me. His thumb circles my hole, and I don’t hate it. With his spit, it dips in easily, and the fullness I feel drives me wild.
“Yes,” I scream.
“Tell me what I need to hear,” he demands.
“I fucking love you,” I say, and he puts me out of my misery. He drives into me so hard I come violently. My legs shake, and my pussy tightens around his cock. He keeps fucking me through my orgasm. He knows my body so well. He’s the only man who ever will.
“That’s it. You know I love you too, babe, now squeeze my come outta me. I’m going to fill you so fucking full it’s going to drop out of you for fucking days.”
