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I reach up and take her tits in my hands, rolling the nipples between my thumbs and forefingers until she moans. When I pinch, her eyes shoot open, and she goes practically feral.
“I need to be inside you, baby. I’ll blow my load another day just watching you masturbate yourself on my cock, but not tonight. She pulls forward, almost kissing me, and pushes fully onto my cock in one solid stroke.
“Oh. My. God.”
“So full. So full.” She bounces hard and deep on me, and I reach for her clit.
It takes very few strokes of her clit and very few slides of my cock until we both come again. She collapses on my chest and kisses my breastbone before dragging in a deep heaving breath.
I thrust as much as I can from below her, just stretching out what has become my very favorite thing in the world.
I pull out, watching her eyes as she loses my dick. The beauty on her face as my cock moves inside her… I’ll never not want to watch it. I slide her off me and head to the bathroom. I clean myself off and grab a warm, wet washcloth and do the same for her.
When I slide into bed, I roll into her body and spoon her deep.
I rest my lips on the nape of her neck and plant a kiss there as I splay a hand on her abs. “Tell me a secret, Pix”
“I’m scared by how big my feelings are for you.” She yawns. “Tell me a secret, Layton.”
“Every moment of those twenty-eight days was worth it to come home to you.”
* * *
I wake as the sun rises and look down at the woman sound asleep in my bed. My equal. My everything. My fiancée.
I slide out of bed to make coffee and let Kyle out to explore and empty his bladder.
I grab my phone, thinking Livy needs a ring, but am so curious about the messages that I oblige my curiosity.
George:What the fuck, man? You think I would send you that shit?
George:By the way, that’s me calm enough after seventy-two fucking hours to reach out.
George:Okay. It was a bit much, but you’re ghosting me over it?
George:Seriously, after all we’ve been through, *this* is how it ends?
George:Never in a million years would I think you’d cut me out over this. No words.
Me:Whoa. Back up. I wasn’t ghosting you. I was in rehab. And I’m not cutting you out. You’re a brother to me.
Me:It’s not unreasonable to assume that mail from your address came from you, by the way.
Me:In the early days, it probably saved my life, George. Why would I not assume my friend, who’d been a lifesaver in so many things, wasn’t being one again?
Me:I’m sorry. Things went to shit fast, and I did too.
Bubbles dance.
George:I was pissed.
Me:Was or are?
My phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Was. And I didn’t know the ins and outs. Exton never said.”
