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I sit back in the chair, knuckling my chin and chewing on my bottom lip. Did I really write a novel? In three weeks? How the hell did I find the time, in between acrobatic bouts of the kind of sex regular people would never even consider?
But really, I've stolen every moment that I could, dictated everything that I remember into the app. I have been faithful, disciplined, dedicated.
Something else begins to occur to me too. It's my voice. It's me. This is the kind of writing that I wanted to do, the kind that Hannah told me was too difficult to sell. She is the one who nudged me off, forcing me to write those inane lifestyle pieces.
My eyes dart over the page, hungrily skipping ahead to the next juicy details. This is good. This is really good. This could be a perfectly steamy romance novel, if I just changed the names. A quick find and replace, and I could come up with a pen name in five minutes, I'm sure of it. I could self-publish it by tonight.
But I'm not going to do that.
This is my story. Our story. And the agreement was that I own this story. Every single word.
Can I really do it? I have got long passages in here describing the exact length and girth and texture of Emmet's beautiful cock. That sweetly rose-colored tip. The branching veins rolling under the skin. His balls, cupped tightly to his body, wreathing that beautiful shaft.
Oh boy. I wonder what he is going to think of this?
But I play the scene in my mind and realize he's going to love it. Dillon especially! He's going to adore my descriptions of his cum sliding between my tits, pooling in my belly button. He's going to absolutely love it. He may have to have it printed on a T-shirt.
Nearing the end of the document, I realize I'm almost up to today. So where does the story go? We’ve got the proposal coming up, with the spectacle of all of that. I'm sure it will be something, and a slow smile creeps across my face. Emmet has been very quiet about it, and I’m really excited to see what he's being so secretive about.
So what is my ending? Romance readers expect happy endings. Happily ever after, if at all possible. The characters are supposed to ride off into the sunset together, even if it's an unusual ride into the sunset, on three horses instead of just two.
Were supposed to make gooey declarations of forever at each other, passionately exclaim our love…
Oh, about that.
I scowl, wrinkling my nose. Love. Now there's a four letter word. I wonder if they've ever been in love. I wonder if I've ever been in love. Mark was my college boyfriend, but did I love him? I thought I did. We spent nearly all of our time together, applying to the same college and then walking around campus, holding hands smugly like we were relationship royalty.
I had that whole Promise Ring thing propping me up, the idea that my virginity was a shining jewel in a dingy sea of shattered glass, or so I had been told. Among all the other sullied college women, I rose gracefully above because I had a man who loved me and, to prove it, would not make love to me.
But when I found him with Camille, it all fell apart. They were in bed together, just two hulking, shuddering shapes under the blue blanket. They heard me drop my purse and poked out their sweaty, surprised faces.
So much for the noble love who respected me too much to defile my body. I guess he just thought I was a dead end chump, one who would give him the innocent Promise Ring Prince Charming reputation for just a little bit of his time in return. And a lot of his lies.
But after the initial shock, it was easy to let him go. It was like turning off a switch. If it was love, would it have been that easy to cast him aside?
And then Trevor… I must've loved him, because he changed everything. He's the reason I just gave up even trying. He was so charming, so believable. So earnest and unassuming… I believed every single word that he told me. I saw our future blooming in front of me like a wide-open landscape being illuminated quickly by a rising sun. I never even thought that I could see a horizon stretch out like that, see my future pushing out fast ahead of me like a thrown spear.
He too loved the idea of my virginity. He loved how special that made me, especially as I crept toward twenty-three, then twenty-four. He said he was satisfied just to cuddle. We talked about our future like it was a castle on a hill, complete with birds to carry my wedding train and angels to giggle around our eventual wedding bed.
So when he turned out to be a drug addict and a liar at a cellular level, it wasn't just a day-to-day relationship he took from me. He took the whole damn landscape, castle, fairies, and dwarves with him. The sun went out. In an instant, my whole future was scooped wholesale off the planet.
So that must have been love, because that was devastating.
So what do I see now? Do I see a future? Are Emmet and Dillon the kind of men I make plans with? Are these the kind of people I trust long enough to find out if the plans are for real? Because that's what love is, isn't it? Bliss today, but the promise of more bliss tomorrow too, right?
Slowly, I lift my hands off the laptop and snap the lid closed. I see the light blue of the screen flicker and go out.
I don't have an ending for the story it. I don't know what it is.
CHAPTER 15
Dillon
“Can open my eyes yet?” she asks, pursing her lips.
“Not yet,” I tell her. “Actually, you look kinda good like that. I might have to keep the blindfold for another time.”
She holds her arms out in front of her, wrist to wrist. “You know, these scenes usually involve a rope or handcuffs or something. You want to cuff me?”
