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Her body is a temple; her love is my religion. I want to worship here forever. She comes with my name on her lips and tears spill from the corners of her eyes.
I lean down and kiss the salty trail as it slides over her cheek, and the tight grip of pulsing pussy around my cock makes me lose the rhythm of my thrusts, and I feel a shot of electricity up my spine. “Come here,” I growl.
She gasps in surprise as I pull out of her, hook her knees over my shoulders, then I drive back into her wet, greedy pussy with one thrust that makes us both moan. “You feel so good, Apollo. I didn’t know …” I’m so deep inside her, my balls slap her ass with each thrust, but it doesn’t feel like enough. I wish I could slow down and make this last forever, but I can’t. Not when her eyes plead with me not to stop.
“Graham, I love you, so much …” she cries out and my heart trips. The last thread on my restraint snaps and my orgasm rushes through my body. It surges from the soles of my feet and up through my cock, and I let out a roar of pleasure that has been years in the making.
Relief like I’ve never known courses through me as the thick spurts of cum leave my body. This woman, her body, her love, us … all of it shatters everyone and everything that came before it. And I wish like fuck that I was planting something in her womb that would make this moment live forever.
“I love you, too,” I pant as I collapse on her. I lie there trying to catch my breath and still my racing heart. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me in to an embrace.
We’re sweaty and sated as we lie together, limbs entwined, and I feel like I’ve been born again.
The Crown
Graham
“This is the best idea you’ve ever had.” Apollo’s arms slide around my neck, and I lift her into my arms and walk us out of the pool and across the terrace for the hammock that’s hanging on the veranda of our cabana.
“Yeah, you might be right. Well, besides going to read in the middle of that lake every single day for two years while I waited for my angel to show up.” I drop a kiss on her mouth before I lay her down in the wide, white hammock. “Slide over,” I tell her and then I jump in. I fold my hands behind my head, and Apollo lays her head on my chest and flings her leg over my hip.
“Look at that moon; it’s beautiful, right?” Her voice is full of the kind of contentment that can only come from twenty-four hours of uninterrupted relaxation, lovemaking, and reading.
“I gaze up at the crescent moon that’s waning over us. It’s a soft powdery white that glows so brightly that it’s all the light we need out here tonight. “So beautiful,” I drawl. My body and mind wrapped in the same soft cloud of happiness as hers.
“Artemis was named after the goddess of the moon. I begged for that telescope because I thought it would help me feel close to her. But, I didn’t even need that. I miss her. But I’ve never felt like she was really gone, you know? And every time I look up at the moon, I feel like she’s looking down at me. Is it weird that I still feel like a twin? Like I still have a sister?” I feel her head tilt upward and I look down at her face.
Her eyes are calm—as dark and luminous as pots of black ink.
“Not weird at all. I’m still Ellie’s brother.” I sigh a deep, heavy sigh and think about my mother. We talked to her yesterday morning. She and Becca are in Sardinia gorging themselves on cheese and having the time of their lives. I miss her, and I’m a little sad that we’re spending what will be her final year apart. But the moon comforts me too. She’s underneath the same moon. She’s still here. But I give voice to a fear I’ve never let myself indulge in before. “Once Mama’s gone, that’s it. My father’s dead. My sister’s dead. And there’s just me, and I don’t know what that will mean.”
Apollo presses a kiss to the center of my chest and covers it with her hand. “Death is weird,” she says as if she’s talking to herself. “One moment, they’re here, and the very next, they’re not. And they never will be again.”
She wraps her arm even tighter around my waist. “There’s this sort of reckoning that happens when someone your very existence was dependent on dies. You don’t stop being, but you’re different. I’ve spent so much time clinging to the things I’ll never experience again—their smile, their smell, their touch. And sometimes, I can’t remember which one of Arti’s teeth was still growing in. Or I can’t remember how Papa sounded when he
sneezed …”
I drape my arm around her and rest my hand on the silky skin of her hip and toy with the tassel that hangs from the side of her bright yellow bikini bottoms.
“Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote, ‘Truth outlives pain, as the soul does life.’ It’s why I can laugh when I think about my sister. I’ll never stop missing her, but the pain is less acute. The truth of her life was a joy. She existed, and that means she’ll never really be gone,” she muses.
“Truth outlives pain.” I throw the words around in my head. Yes, I suppose. But what about a lie? The lie of my life.
“Are we going to sleep out here again?” Apollo asks, stretching languidly and running her toes up the front of my leg.
“No, not tonight. Come on,” I say and sit up. I slide out, reach for her hand, and we walk to our bedroom.
Apollo
“I want to show you something,” he says once we’re in the room.
“Sit down on the bed, please.” His voice is still gentle, but I can hear a thread of anxiety in it, and I don’t argue before doing as he asked.
As soon as I sit down, he starts to pull down his swim trunks.
“Uh, what are you doing? I thought you wanted to show me something.” I ask, my eyes wide and my pulse racing.
He doesn’t look away from his button fly and mutters, “I do. Relax, I’m not trying to seduce you Apollo.”
