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Sitting beside him, I leaned forward, rested an arm on one side of his head, and stroked his cheek with my free hand.
His hands were still wrapped around my waist, but not so tightly now.
“Close your eyes,” I told him softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Tell me you love me,” he pleaded.
“Johnny—”
“Tell me.”
Inhaling a steadying breath, I whispered, “Johnny, I love you.”
“Thank fuck,” he groaned, exhaling loudly.
“You won’t remember this,” I added shakily. “But I will.”
Which was the only reason I was telling him my truth.
“I love your tits,” he informed me then.
“You haven’t seen them.”
He nodded solemnly. “I have.”
I shook my head. “No, you must be thinking about someone else.”
“I’m only ever thinking about you,” he replied. “Only you.”
My heart. My poor, poor heart.
I didn’t stand a chance with this boy.
“And your pussy.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “I saw that, too.”
Yes. Yes, he did.
Oh, thank god he didn’t say that in front of his parents…
“It’s mine.”
“What’s yours?” I asked.
“You.” He sighed and tightened his hold on me. “And your perfect little pussy.”
“Johnny,” I breathed. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Touch my dick.”
“No, Johnny, I’m not touching your dick.”
“Are you sure?”
I chuckled. “I’m sure.”
“But you will, right?” he asked, looking forlorn. “Someday?”
“Someday,” I whispered in his ear. “I promise.”
