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“Just…nervous about going home, I guess.”
My response is honest. It’s just not complete.
Yes, I’m nervous about going home—but I’m also nervous about telling Boyd I want to cool things off a little bit. The idea of doing it makes me want to scream.
“You sure you don’t want to change your ticket?” he asks, a joking lilt to his voice even though he’s not entirely kidding.
He’s mentioned it a few times, since I told him I have a refundable ticket and it has the financial coverage to change the flight without any fees.
“Change your flight to fly home with me on Sunday morning,” he said yesterday while we were lying in bed together. “We can tough it out in economy together.”
As good as it sounded, being snuggled up next to Boyd in the shitty seats on a long flight, I knew it was just delaying the inevitable.
The longer I stay in Cedar Point, the longer I let this thing with Boyd continue, the more difficult it will get to call it off. It’s better for me to leave now so I don’t allow myself to be swayed by his sweet words and kind heart.
“Nah, I gotta get home,” I finally say. “Time to get back to normal…the way life used to be.”
Boyd is quiet next to me, and when I chance a look in his direction, I see him staring off in the distance, his brow furrowed and his shoulders tense, like he has the weight of the world resting on them.
After we finish our drinks, we spend a quiet evening watching a movie with the twins, Busy and Briar having other plans and Boyd’s parents out to dinner with another couple.
Later, when the two of us are alone in the guesthouse, Boyd sits on the end of the bed, his legs spread where I stand in between them, slowly stroking my fingers through his hair and along his scalp.
He groans and shivers, enjoying the sensation.
“It feels amazing when you do that,” he mumbles, already looking like he could fall asleep. “I feel like I should have taken advantage of the fact that you know how to give a good massage by now.”
I stop my movements and tilt his head up slightly so I can look into his eyes.
“You want a massage?” I ask, realizing this might be my only chance to give him one.
He grins at me. “If you’re offering.”
Pressing a kiss to his lips, I tell him to strip down and lie flat on the bed on his stomach. I can’t help but laugh at how quickly he gets naked and in position.
I pull some lotion out of my bag then climb onto the bed with him, straddling his hips, my butt resting on his bare one. Then I squirt some lotion onto his back and begin massaging his muscles.
Starting with light pressure, I knead the muscles in a circular motion. Then I go back and apply additional pressure in areas where Boyd let out longer groans, making sure to give relief to some of the sore areas that have popped up in the days since our hike up Kilroy.
When I finish, Boyd rolls onto his back, looking like he’s high, his expression glazed and satisfied.
“I wish I could make you look like that after sex,” I joke. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so blissed out.”
He laughs, tugging me down against him, his lips coming to mine. Boyd’s kisses reflect his sappy, sluggish energy.
Long licks, low groans. It’s a little sloppy and a lot delicious, and I cherish every second. His hands wander and grip and push and pull until I realize he’s slowly removing all of my clothing.
A part of me feels guilty for allowing myself to get physical with Boyd when I know things are going to end between us. It makes me feel selfish that I’m willing to take this from him, knowing if he could hear my inner thoughts, he would put a stop to this right now and demand answers.
But another part of me knows this will be the last night I spend in Boyd’s arms, the last night he’ll work so hard to bring me pleasure, the last night I’ll get to see that spark in his eyes as he tips over the edge.
And for that reason, I’m okay with being selfish.
He drops down, pressing his mouth between my legs—clearly a favorite of his—sucking and licking and slipping his fingers in and out of me. At one point, he rubs against a space inside of me that has my body bucking off the bed.
“That’s the spot, huh?” he says with a smirk, returning his efforts to that same area and moving his fingers in maddening circles all while he flicks his tongue against my clit.
“Ohmygod,” I whisper, the words tumbling out of my mouth on repeat, my eyes clenched shut as I feel pulsing heat pool in my lower back.
