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My dirty girl wants to play.
Stalking toward her, I lick my cum from her chest where it dripped and then lick it up from her chin. I press my mouth to hers. She parts her lips willingly, and our tongues connect.
“Where else did I make a mess?”
Smirking, she climbs onto the counter and spreads her legs, showing me her glistening pussy dripping from how aroused she is. Without being told, I drop to my knees in front of her and cover her cunt with my mouth, my tongue lapping up at her wetness, cleaning up the mess I made.
In two minutes flat, I’m able to claim a fourth orgasm I wasn't aware she had in her. When I stand in front of her after pulling my pants back up, I give her a smirk, leaning into her spent body that’s still on the counter.
“Your turn to clean up your mess.” She sticks her tongue out and licks up my chin and lips that glisten with her wetness. “God, the things you do to me.” I press a quick kiss against her lips, help her off the counter, and clean her up.
Once we’re clean and her clothing is fixed, she stands in front of me with a hopeful look.
We haven’t seen each other in six months. The last time we did, I was a complete asshole and freaked out about something I had no right to freak out about. She never said anything after the flowers and my apology, but I need her to know how genuinely sorry I am and how I want her in my life and for us to be together. We’ve been apart long enough, she’s mine, and I’ll forever be hers.
“Camille, I’m so fucking sorry about that day in the coffee shop. I understand why you chose not to have our baby, and that’s okay. I’m sorry I wasn’t supportive and wasn’t there when you had to go through it.” I lean down and rest my forehead against hers, my hands firmly gripping her waist. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I forgive you, Dean.” Her arms wrap around my neck.
“I want you, Cam, for the rest of my life, I want you. We can’t be apart any longer. I’ve been waiting long enough for you.” She pulls away from me, sadness and sorrow filling her beautiful eyes.
“I’m sorry, Dean, I can’t be with you. Not right now. I’m still working on myself, which requires me to be alone. Please, give me the time I need to focus on myself. If we’re meant to be, then one day, we will be.” Her words break my heart.
“We are meant to be, can’t you see that?”
“Then we’ll find our way back together, but I can’t be in a relationship right now,” she says. I know we’re meant to be, and I have faith that she will be mine one day. I have enough faith for both of us.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I know we can’t be together right now because I’m not the man you deserve yet. I’ve been going to therapy and have been working through a lot. I promise, one day, I will be the man you deserve, and I will be there for you in every single way, and every single day.” She nods, not saying a single word.
“I’m hopelessly in love with you, baby. You’re mine forever, so go ahead and take all the time you need. Just know that you have my heart in the palm of your hand, and I’ll be waiting for you when the time is right for us to make our way back to each other.” I kiss her forehead, wiping the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Now I’m going to close my eyes because I can’t stand to watch you leave. You have ten seconds.” With one final look at her, I close my eyes and count.
When I open them, she’s gone.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Camille
“I’m not interested in dating,” I groan, struggling with the zipper at the back of my dress.
“You’re going for moral support. I’m ready to date and need a wing woman.” Spencer flips her dark hair off her shoulders and turns me around so my back faces her. She effortlessly slides the zipper up my back.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “It’s speed dating. How exactly can I be a wing woman?” One of our mother's friends at the country club told Spencer about an elite speed dating event she was hosting, and she signed up both of us without my consent.
I’d never do something as ridiculous as speed dating, not that I’m interested in dating anyway, even if I am single.
Declan and I divorced on my timing. He waited until I was ready and had the time to really sit down and focus, and for that I’m grateful.
We're divorced and doing very well in our new role as friends. We still speak often and have our mental health check-ins with each other. He hasn’t been doing great lately. He has his own demons he needs to work on, and thankfully he’s agreed to start therapy.
“Stop complaining, just put your shoes on and let’s go or we’re going to be late.” I’ve been relying on Spencer heavily over the last few years, so if she wants to go speed dating, I’ll shut up and go with her.
We finish getting ready in silence and drive toward the rented-out restaurant where the event is being held.
We arrive and get signed in quickly.
The room is crowded, everyone is wearing a number instead of a name tag, and we’ve all been given a small notebook to take notes on our dates. We’re supposed to rate our dates, and if we like them and match up, we’ll receive their contact information to schedule something on our own.
