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“And I can feel that you are completely on board with my plan, Mr. Blackstone.”
Well of course I am when I have your legs wrapped round my arse and my cock up against a very nice part of you.
I walked us into the bathroom carefully and set her down on her feet. I found the light switch and enjoyed the second gasp out of her when she got a good look at the bathtub and the view.
“Is that the ocean out that window? Good lord! It’s so beautiful in here I can hardly stand it.”
I laughed. “Now, I’m not so sure if you’re more interested in that bathtub or in ravishing me anymore.”
“But I can multi-task just as well as you can, baby,” she said, pulling her hoodie over her head and letting it drop.
“Did I ever tell you how much I love it when you call me baby?”
Her strip-show was going to be so damn good I could already feel my body starting to hum all over.
“Maybe a time or two you’ve said so.”
She pulled off her t-shirt and that’s when I saw it.
“You wore your necklace.”
She nodded at me, standing there in a lacy blue bra and the heart pendant I’d given her at the beginning of our hellish evening.
“When we changed clothes I didn’t want to take it off.” She flipped her eyes up to mine and fingered the heart.
“How come?” I asked.
“Because you gave it to me, and told me you loved me and—”
“I don’t want you to take it off,” I blurted out in the middle of her sentence.
“—because you said you were all in.”
“I am. With you, Brynne, I am, and I have been from the very start.”
And I meant every word. I knew what I wanted. I understood it crystal clear and there was no turning back with her now.
All in is forever, baby...
When I reached for my girl and showed her how much I did indeed need her, and told her with words too, I knew then that the best gamble of my life had not been the cards I’d played, but that one night on a London street, when a beautiful American girl tried to walk out in the dark, and I played the most important hand I’d ever been dealt, and went…all in.
The End
In the words of Simba…
By: Franziska Popp
Here we go again. The one who talks with fishes is finally home. I would cross my fins in front of my chest, but helloooooooo? I am a fish. Instead I am doing what I can do best; I am floating through the ocean. An ocean with walls I can see through. Better than the plastic bag
he used to get me into this flat with—a flat which couldn’t look any lonelier I might add. Even my fake ocean looks more comfy, and yes, he probably thinks I can’t tell the difference. Of course I can.
Swimming closer to the wall of glass as Ethan Blackstone, yes, Black-STONE, walks in, I wonder if he is related to my favorite stone in my fake ocean. There are many stones, but each fish in here needs a stone. Just like this human needs a cigarette right now.
My fins fluttering, I am wondering why he didn’t say anything to me. Normally I get at least a ‘Hello mate’ or a ‘How was your day, Simba?’
Wishing I could roll my eyes. I know—he really named me Simba from The Lion King. And he did not even give me a Nalla. Nope.
Where was I? Right, thank you. I was watching him, in his chair, at his enormous desk and then I hear him say, “I am so screwed, Simba. I met a girl, and trust me when I say that I am fucking screwed.”
