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Smiling my favourite smile, she nodded, stroked my cheek. “More than anyone.”
This was it. This was everything, a moment we’d never be able to come back from. I was about to lose my best friend and, hopefully, gain so much more. I gripped the back of her neck, locked my gaze on hers while I reached between us and grasped the base of my cock. I slid gently against her moist folds a couple of times, felt for her entrance, “I love you, Helen…” It wasn’t too soon to say it. I loved her. I’d always loved her, more than anyone in the world. “I’ll never stop trying to show you how much.”
And then I fed myself into her. “Fuck…”
Her walls sucked me inside, clung tightly to my shaft. She felt so warm and perfect. Deep. Soft. I rolled my hips slowly, afraid to end the moment too quickly.
“I need more, Hugo. Now. I can’t bear it.”
Christ. It felt very possible that this woman, this flawless and selfless woman, might kill me. I kissed the heat that had gathered around her neck before hooking her knee over the crook of my arm and bringing it over my shoulder. “Shit, Helen,” I moaned, slipping deeper, pummelling faster, harder. It was happening too fast. I missed the feel of her already and it hadn’t even ended.
“Yes…Like tha-that…Oh, God!” Her cries encouraged me, increased my pace. My fingers dug into the flesh of her thigh, my other hand gripping the back of her neck. “I’m com…oh, Hugo!” My name coating her orgasm pushed me over the ledge. As her walls pulsed around me, her knees quaking, I felt blood pull from my body, cooling my skin from my fingertips right to my toes, as it pooled in the base of my cock. I struggled to breathe as delicious pressure built in the bottom of my spine, driving me further into her, until I couldn’t contain it anymore.
I spilled inside her, my legs trembling and my lungs expelling a shaking breath. “Fuck.”
“Hugo?” Helen queried my name in a gentle murmur as I collapsed onto her chest.
“Mmhmm?” was all I could manage in my breathless, sated state.
“I love you, too.”
I smiled into the crook of her neck. I’d hoped hearing those words would complete me…but we’d exchanged them throughout our entire lives. The meaning had changed for me. Had it for Helen? Could she love me that way?
Shit.
Why would she?
Rolling to the side, I tangled a leg with hers, angled her face until it was nose-to-nose with mine. A soft sheen coated her pinkened cheeks. Her lips were full, swollen from kissing. She looked perfect. I never wanted to forget this image of her.
For a while, we watched each other. No words, only touch. When Helen’s eyes grew heavier, her blinks turning slow and long, I pulled the duvet over our bodies and snuggled in close, holding her tight to my chest, afraid to let her go. Then, I fell asleep with her scent on my skin and the taste of her in my mouth, hopeful that my days of pain and loneliness were in the past.
Helen
It felt like a dream: the two of us sitting under the lilac sky on a balcony overlooking the city, Hugo studying my every move. He’d always made me feel loved but last night, and again this morning, he’d made me feel beautiful. The way he’d looked at me, such desire in his stare. The way his eyes tugged on his brow, as if the sight of me caused him to physically ache with the need to feel me. He’d even licked my stretchmarks.
Hugo. My Hugo.
“Are you gonna eat that?” he asked, his arm extending from his fluffy white robe to hover over the croissant on my plate.
I shook my head. I’d eaten two already. “I don’t want this morning to end,” I said, sighing. I tipped my head back, absorbed the morning sun that had started to peep between the tall buildings. It was going to be a charming day. Warm. Cloudless.
“Ah, it has to end, Heli.”
“Why?” I asked, heart stuttering.
A lopsided smile crawled onto Hugo’s lips. “So we can look forward to the next one.”
“Hmm. I suppose.” Could every morning be like this? Waking up in Hugo’s arms, showering with him, making love. I hoped so.
After devouring the croissant in only a couple of bites, he washed it down with some coffee. I was sipping my orange juice when he asked, “Do you remember that night when you asked me if I’d ever been in love?”
“Mmhmm.” I nodded.
“I lied that night. I wasn’t ready, wasn’t sure you wanted to hear it, but you were right. It’s all there in my music, in the lyrics. They’re about you, Helen. Couldn’t you see that?”
My mouth opened to reply but nothing came out. Verses from his songs started playing in my head, lines that spoke about the pain he felt, the regrets he had, the love he’d lost. “Me?”
