Page 36 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

Her methods of distraction are wildly effective.

I dive for her, spearing into her thighs as I lift her up and over my shoulder. I haul off and spank the shit out of her gorgeous full ass as I take off running toward the master suite, where I proceed to fuck her into oblivion for the next couple hours.

Because as long as she’s in my bed, she can’t leave.

As long as I’m inside her, she’s mine.

***

I pop up, my mind disoriented, and it takes me a minute to remember where I am. The room is cloaked in darkness, save for the moonlight streaming in from the large floor-to-ceiling windows up here on the tenth floor. They’re some special kind of glass that offer spectacular views of the city, but don’t allow anyone to see in.

I shove up, shaking myself free from the confines of the black Egyptian cotton sheets when I notice she’s not here. I rush to throw on a pair of sweats before setting out in search of her.

At three thousand square feet, the apartment is fucking massive for a city property. I really didn’t need something so extravagant for a weekend hook-up spot.

Because you didn’t buy a weekend hook-up spot, asshole. You bought a fucking home.

Not ready to deal with the seriousness of that truth, I shake it from my mind. Making my way through the kitchen, I glance at the clock on the wall and see it’s just after 10 PM.

Shit, I knocked out for a solid few hours. That just goes to show how much she calms my demons. Not even a full day sharing this space with her, and already I’m more relaxed—more at ease.

I notice a soft glow coming from around the corner that leads to the living room, and I follow it, not even remotely prepared for how my world is about to shift.

Latch - Acoustic by Sam Smith (Spotify)

Latch - Acoustic by Sam Smith (Apple Music)

There, in the dimly-lit space set against the backdrop of another wall of windows that serve as a staple in the apartment, is my Queen. Her back is to me, her long blonde waves traveling down in a waterfall of soft curls. She’s barefoot, wearing nothing but my faded oversized black V-neck, which is so big it’s slipped from her frame, exposing the delicate curve of her bare shoulder.

She’s sipping a glass of red wine in her left hand as she leisurely hangs Christmas ornaments on a tree she’s somehow managed to set up while I’ve slept. It’s wrapped in white twinkle lights that cast a soft glow against her silhouette and as I take in the image as a whole, I notice it’s snowing outside.

She continues to decorate, oblivious to my presence, as she quietly hums along to music she has playing in the background. Her voice serving as an enchanting melody that has me spellbound.

I stand rooted in place, afraid to move—afraid to breathe—for fear that once I break the moment, God will never grant my undeserving soul another as perfect as this.

She spins to reach for another box of ornaments behind her, only to jump with a gasp when she notices my unexpected presence.

“Baby.” She smiles wide, placing her glass off to the side before approaching me. “It didn’t seem right to be so close to Christmas and not have a tree.” She laughs as she reaches up to throw her arms around my neck. “Don’t worry, I didn’t go out. I had everything delivered, right down to the tree. Did you know there’s an app to deliver Christmas trees? Who would have thought—”

I cup the side of her face, bringing my lips down to hers. The tenderness with which I’m kissing her catches her off-guard. I pull back, my eyes locked on hers as I lightly stroke her face.

“You okay?” She offers a compassion filled smile.

I continue to stare at her, unable to string the words together to express what I’m feeling in this moment. The music shifts in the background, the resulting change rebooting my brain.

Mascara by Niykee Heaton (Spotify)

Mascara by Niykee Heaton (Apple Music)

This is it. The moment that could define the rest of my life. And while I’m no genius, I’m smart enough to reach out and seize it with both hands.

“Do you love me yet?” the question spills from my lips. Her breathing stalls, faltering in her throat as I continue to caress her face. “Because I don’t know how this all works… but I really want to say it to you.”

“I’m pretty sure you just did,” she whispers.

“I love you, Joanna Hunter,” my confession spills out of me. “I have never said those words to another living soul because they’ve never meant a fucking thing before I met you. I can’t promise I won’t fuck up, because I think we both know I will… a lot.”

She laughs, swiping tears from her cheeks as I continue.

---