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She does in a breathtaking display. Her head falls back, and long blonde curls fall to her back, leaving her chest completely unobstructed. I watch her break apart as I thrust my own pleasure inside her twice more, never wanting to stop.
I catch her under the arms before she falls back and rolls us over, slipping out of her and tucking us under the covers. A hum escapes me as I kiss her forehead. Content. Happy.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
With Ronnie, those three words are so simple. Like the flour in a baking recipe. Or better yet sugar when mixed with water. The glue that will hold strong.
I kiss her lips and slip out of bed to get a warm, wet, washrag and towel. She sighs as I run the warm rag up her inner thigh. Repeating on the other side and carefully running it across her center. Then replace it with a towel.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, then kiss her knee.
We fall asleep in each other’s arms debating baby names again. Wondering if life is always going to be this good. Everything feels right, and although we’re doing things a little untraditionally, I’m going to marry her and cherish her as my wife for the rest of our lives.
