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When I’m eye-level to him and all wrapped around him, he splays his palm on the back of my head and whispers, “You know why my favorite color is red?”
I shake my head.
“It’s because it’s the color of your lips. It’s the color of your smile.”
The said lips part and I breathe out, “No way.”
“I didn’t have a favorite color before you.”
My mouth falls open. “Seriously?”
His nostrils flare. “I didn’t notice colors before I met you.”
My heart squeezes. It squeezes and squeezes because it’s so sad, as sad as him being dreamless. So sad that I wanna hug him. I wanna touch his face. Caress it. Trace it with my fingers.
Suddenly, I realize that I can.
I can now.
I can touch his beard, and as if I needed that reminder to be able to feel the marks on my skin, they come alive.
I feel the sting of his beard, all over my chin, my jaw, around my lips. I feel the belated scraping, the rustling of it over my face when he was kissing me.
How did I miss that? How? Those marks are burning now, burning so deliciously.
My hands move up and I finally, finally touch it.
I touch his beard. I feel it with my fingers, all rough and soft, silk and sand, as I whisper, “God, I wanted to touch your beard for so long.”
He rubs his jaw against my palm and I almost moan. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. I had dreams about it.”
“What dreams?”
“Of rubbing it with my hands. Rubbing it all over my body. It’ll make me all red, won’t it?”
He rubs his jaw harder against my palm, as if trying to make it red, trying to make my dream come true. “Red as a rose. Red as my favorite color.”
I shake my head at him. “You know, for an asshole, you say the nicest things.”
His eyes go heavy at that. Heavy and hooded as he boosts me up higher with his arm under my butt and again, it makes me feel like a bag of feathers that he can lift and throw around just like that.
“Do I?
I kiss his beard, then. I lick it, feeling the scrape and rustle that I missed before right on my tongue. “I think if you tried you could write all the poetry for me that I’ll ever need.”
He fists my hair, tugging my lips away and stares down at me. “I can’t do poetry, Jailbait. But I’m going to do other things for you.”
“Like what?”
He bounces me in his lap again and I bite my lip to keep from moaning. “I’m going to buy you a hundred dresses. A thousand dresses. And you’re going to wear them all. You’re going to wear them all for me. And I’m going to tear them all off with my bare hands. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll buy them all in red. They’ll be as red as your pretty lips. And I’m going to lose my mind over it. That color will call to me, call to my blood like I’m this bull of a man who just has to get to you. Get to your red as fuck mouth.”
I’m breathing against his lips – I know that – but my body is going into a state where I don’t know if I’m alive or dead or simply burning in lust.
“O-okay,” I whisper and rock against him.
“And I’m going to grow all the roses for you,” he promises like all the other promises he’s made tonight weren’t enough, like I needed to be slain some more. “All the roses that you’ll ever want so you don’t have to pick off the dying ones for your gift. That’s what you were doing that night, wasn’t it? You wanted your gift from me.”
I swallow. More like I hiccup and go all limp in his arms. Limp and breathy and a panting mess as I nod haltingly. “Y-yeah.”
He looks over my entire face, soaks in my features, and I love that.
I love so, so much that he’s seeing me.
Not only that but he’s been seeing me, watching me for ages. I thought I was invisible but I wasn’t.
I was visible to him.
To my Graham.
“And I’m going to do one other thing.”
“What?”
In reply, he presses a hard kiss on my mouth and I kiss him back. This time around, I feel his beard rubbing against my skin. I feel the sting as it happens and it makes me even hornier.
It makes me messier and sloppier, both my kiss that I can’t stop giving him and my pussy.
My pussy is running like a river. It’s clenching and releasing and I’m gushing cream and soaking my panties. I’m probably getting it all on my thighs too. Thighs that are wrapped around him and I bet he can feel my wetness.
I’m smearing it all over him as well. All over his stomach where my pussy is at. It doesn’t even cross my mind to stop. Not even for a second.
