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She works her clit with feverish fingers, stretching her orgasm out, and I feel myself starting to spill, losing my grip on control as she throws her head back in rapture.
Grasping her ankles in one hand, I shift so they rest together on one shoulder, seating myself so deep with each stroke that I feel like I’m inside her stomach.
“Come, princess. Fall apart for me.”
Not that she needs the encouragement, but the sounds scraping up through her esophagus send a shock of white hot heat through my thighs, drawing my balls up for a split second before I’m coming, pumping myself dry inside of her, her cunt sucking up every ounce of my sticky seed like the greedy little bitch she is.
Collapsing beside her on the mattress, I reach over and pull Fiona into me, nuzzling the top of her head with my nose, inhaling that fucking rosy scent that I never seemed able to forget in the first place.
She wraps one leg over my hip, wincing slightly, and shifts until I can feel myself leaking out of her. “We’re terrible at remembering condoms,” she whispers against my throat, licking a bead of sweat from the base.
“The worst thing in the world would not be making a baby with you,” I say, slinging my arm over her shoulders.
“We’re kind of a mess.”
“Messes can be cleaned up,” I say, shrugging.
“You really want a lifetime with me?” She pushes up on her elbow, studying my face. “I have obsessive-compulsive disorder, you know. I can be a real nag. And I’m still mourning my mom’s death, so you’ll have to deal with random bouts of sadness and drives at two in the morning to get chocolate shakes in her honor.”
“I see your issues, and raise you: a severely dysfunctional relationship with my depressed sister, who is now my ward until she graduates, not to mention the trauma from my childhood makes me kind of a dick, because I didn’t really learn how to open up to people correctly. And I killed my mother tonight and have no remorse, so I’m sure that’s something I’ll have to talk about in therapy.”
Her eyes light up. “Therapy?”
“Yeah. Riley only agreed to go if I did, so...” I trail off, reaching up to rub my thumb over her lips, mesmerized by the fact that I get to touch her like this again. The hurt from before doesn’t magically disappear, but that isn’t the point, anyway.
Hurts remain so you can remember the good shit. The laughter and the happiness, the fucking sunshine on a cloudy day. They’re not there to dwell on, but to enhance everything else.
“I’m, ah… on medication.” Her eyes drop to my chest, her teeth kneading her bottom lip. “For my issues. I used to take it when I was younger but stopped because I thought I could handle the anxiety and the obsessions. Turns out, I was wrong.”
“Sounds like you’re getting back on track, though,” I breathe, gliding my lips along the crown of her head. In truth, I’m not surprised, given the change in tone from a few months ago to now.
“It’ll probably be a struggle,” Fiona says, tapping my shoulder with her index finger. “You and me.”
Tap, tap, tap.
“I’m not afraid of the work.”
I press a kiss to her nose, then pinch her nostrils closed for a second, throwing her off.
She giggles, pushing me away, and I cup her cheek, my heart beating in my throat as I cut myself open again for her, hoping this time she doesn’t want to watch me bleed freely.
“Christ, you lit a match inside me that grew into this uncontainable fire, and I haven’t been able to put it out since. I never stopped being in love with you, even when I wanted to hate you. I’m willing to work on my shit, but I don’t want to do it without you by my side, in my bed at night, sitting on my face each morning. I just want to do life with you, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t admit that months ago.”
She bites her bottom lip, fluttering her lashes. “I love you, too. And before you stop me, I’m sorry, too. For walking away, and hurting you, and also for going out with Romeo. Sometimes I can be a real bitch.”
“Sometimes it’s hot,” I breathe, making her laugh.
This time, when I lean in to kiss her, fireworks explode behind my vision, and when I bury myself between her legs for the second and third time tonight, euphoria washing over me with each release, I’m pretty fucking positive I’ve never been happier.
We curl up under the covers a little while later, talking about everything and nothing, trying to make up for the time we lost in the dark, as if the daytime might shatter the illusion of peace and contentment that’s settled over us, erasing the sting of everything bad that’s happened recently.
It doesn’t. When I wake up the next morning, the sunshine glittering off of Fiona’s perfect skin, my arms wrapped around her naked body, I know this isn’t an illusion.
This is the real fucking deal, warts and all.
