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“P-Philip!” I beg. For what, I had no idea.
Hearing me scream his name, he picks up his pace that I find myself tumbling down a dark cliff, all my senses on fire as he keeps fucking me right into the next orgasm.
This time when I come, he comes right with me and as he empties himself inside of me, I vaguely remember protection, but the thought goes away just as it comes.
He collapses on top of me, and then rolls over.
When I manage to turn my head towards him, he is laughing silently, exhaustion written all over his face.
“What?” I ask, hoarsely, his mirth contagious as I too chuckle.
“You lost,” He snickers. Then he throws his arms over his eyes. “But now I want to take a nap with you, so I lost, too.”
That is funny, I muse. And when he keeps laughing, I find myself right there with him, joining his hysterical, nonsensical laughter.
15
Philip
I watch Charlotte put her books in her bag.
She was humming to herself, excited about her class and the fact that the bakery had been cleared for opening tomorrow. When I saw her stuff a small can of mace in her bag, I blinked.
“What’s that for?”
She looks up to see what I am pointing at, and makes a face.
“That’s for unwanted attention.” When my eyes grow hard, she shakes her head. “Force of habit, actually. I used to take the bus back from campus. And that late at night, a woman has to be armed.”
“Do you still need it?” I ask, leaning halfway over the counter. “You’ll have the car, plus the bodyguards.”
She hesitates for a second, before saying firmly, “No. It’s better to be safe than sorry. In fact,” She picks up a small bag with a long strap and places it across her body, until it settles on her hip. The mace is put there, along with her wallet.
I don’t like that she feels the need to arm herself, but I don’t comment on it.
Besides, she looks so cute, getting ready for school.
I didn’t know I said that out loud until she makes a face.
“That’s not funny.”
I grin at her indignation and then say, “You know, I could drop you myself.” She smiles at me.
“Yeah, but you have work to do. I know you’ve been lagging because you’ve been spending all your time here with me.”
I study her and then straighten, before walking over to her and capturing her in my arms, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“Are you happy? With me?”
The question is serious, and she realizes it, because her eyes drop to my chest, and she plays with the button of my shirt, as she admits in a low tone, “I’m not unhappy.”
“That’s not what I mean, Charlotte,” I chastise gently.
She glances up at me, her dark eyes uncertain.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Am I being a good husband? Can you see yourself as my wife in the next five years?” She purses her lips, and then sighs.
