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“Hmmm, once I remember my auntie and mother taking Lark and me to this boardwalk. I remember a Ferris wheel and cotton candy.” We reach the landing and she sighs. “It was one of those days that felt perfect,” she says, tears filling her eyes for the hundredth time today. “I remember laughing so hard, it hurt. It’s strange to think I will never, ever laugh like that again. I was so happy, full of sugar and sunshine and feeling so loved by my family.”
“You know, Eric’s child will feel that way too,” I say. “That baby will grow up always being told the story of his auntie’s great sacrifice.”
“You think?” she asks softly.
“I know. Eric seems like a sentimental guy.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” she says. “And what about you guys? Are you sentimental guys?”
South grins. “I am.”
“Oh?” Ten’s face fills with a smile.
“Yes.” He pushes open a door, revealing a master bedroom with a massive canopied bed. “Let’s get in here and I’ll tell you.”
She licks her lips, walking ahead of us into the room. South walks up behind her and begins to unzip her dress.
South sweeps a tendril of her hair away. “I want to be with you, so fucking badly.”
Then he kisses her, and her naked body may be half missing, but her whole heart is here and that is more than enough. My body stirs with desire for her, and I find myself pulling off my shirt, stepping from my pants, needing to be naked too, offering her all I have to give. Hawthorne follows suit and South too. We’ve been waiting for this moment for so damn long.
South runs his hands over her breasts, and then takes her hand, setting it firmly on his cock. “You want sentimental, Ten?” he asks, kissing her neck, then looking down at her eyes. “I remember the first time I wanted to kiss you,” he tells her. “We were down at the river, drinking that moonshine we’d found in that abandoned mine, and we were laughing so hard our sides hurt.”
“You were telling me all about a television show you watched as a kid. Fresh Prince something?” she says.
He nods. “Yeah. And I was showing you those dance moves.”
“I remember,” she says, a smile breaking across her face as South “And that is when I learned you were more than a pretty face; you could dance like nobody’s business.”
South laughs softly. “I wish I could dance with you on our wedding day,” he says.
“You’d marry me if we were on the surface?” she whispers, a tear falling down her cheek.
“A million times over,” he says, his mouth crashing against hers once more. “So long as you married all three of us.”
Ten’s eyes are misty, filled with dreams that will die along with us, I don’t want her to cry during our last hour.
I move toward her, needing to feel her soft skin against my own before time runs out. She reaches out to me, a look of longing on her face, her lips swollen and well kissed.
“I fell in love with you the day I told you how I died. I was sure I’d see pity in your eyes,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her. “But instead you told me how brave you thought I was. It meant so much.”
“I remember,” she says, and I run my fingers over her bare body, relishing her soft and creamy skin. I lift her up into my arms, placing her on the bed. “I remember thinking you were the bravest man I’d ever dream of knowing. You’d been through so much... lost so much... and yet you still opened up to me.”
With her on her back, I pull myself over her body, massaging her breast as I move up her body. She gasps as my hard cock presses against her belly, and Hawthorne and South join us on the bed. It’s so quiet, the only sound that of our breath and our beating hearts, pounding so hard they are practically jumping from our chests.
This is the moment we’ve waited so long for.
The moment that will pass us by if we don’t reach out and take it as ours.
“I want you so badly,” I tell her my fingers running between her thighs, feeling how aroused she is with my touch. “But I’ve never done this before.”
“Me either.” She smiles. “Maybe South can help lead the way.”
“I don’t need to show you what to do,” he says gruffly. “You know what Ten needs.” And I realize he’s right. I may have never made love to a woman before, but with Tennyson, it isn’t forced or awkward. It is perfect.
“I love that we’re spending our last hour together in bed,” Hawthorne says, brushing a tendril of Ten’s hair from her eyes. He kisses her shoulder and then her ear and I move my cock toward her opening, wanting to fill her up with myself, feel her tightness around me, our bodies melding as one.
