Page 126 of Lassoed Love

In Isla’s room, my eyes catch the scattered letters on her bed. These must be the ones she had mentioned. Picking up one with an envelope marked ‘Isla—21 years old,’ I feel a mix of curiosity and hesitation. Another envelope reads ‘Isla—25 years old,’ and another ‘Isla—to finding love’ and then there’s one intriguingly titled ‘To the one who stole my daughter’s heart.’ I furrow my brows and decide to open the latter, unfolding the paper within.

Before I have a chance to read the words, I catch the faint sound of Isla’s crying coming from the bathroom. Worry fills me, and I drop the letter onto the bed and rush in to find her on the floor of the shower, her knees bunched up, head buried in them, as the water cascades down her back.

Without any hesitation, I open the shower door and step inside, under the water. Isla looks up, her eyes, puffy and glassy, staring at me. Fuck. How long has she been here like this?

I pull her into my arms, and we sit together on the shower floor, the water pouring over us. Isla’s tears mix with the water, creating a heartbreaking sight. “He’s really gone. He’s gone, Xav—” she sobs.

I reach out and pull her into a hug, letting the water from the shower drench us both, not giving a fuck that I am now completely soaked. “I know, sweetheart, I know. It’s okay. Let it out, baby.”

I can feel her pain, her grief, as if it were my own. My heart breaks for her, for the loss she’s experiencing. All I want to do is take awayher pain, but I know I can’t. All I can do is be here for her, to support her, to hold her as she grieves. And so, I hold her tighter, letting her cry, knowing that sometimes, that's all we can do.

“I love you,” I murmur over and over again, my words a soft reassurance. I pepper kisses on her head, her forehead, and her cheeks, each one carrying the weight of my love and support while she sobs into my shoulder. I reach up, grabbing her shampoo bottle.

“I’m going to wash you, okay, baby?” She manages a soft nod while taking a big breath in. Gently, I lift her up from the ground, her tears mixing with the cascading water. I start to lather up her hair, my fingers working through the strands, massaging her scalp as the suds form.

The water washes away the soap, and I grab her sponge and body wash. With careful hands, I start cleaning her body, making sure to cover every inch. The tension in her body begins to ease as I massage the soap into her skin, offering comfort through the simple act of caring for her. Together, we share this intimate moment, where words are unnecessary, and the healing power of touch speaks volumes.

Once her body has been thoroughly cleaned, she turns to look at me. Wrapping her hands around my neck, she grabs onto my now wet hair and says, “I love you so much.”

“Me too, baby,” I reply, capturing her mouth with mine.

As she deepens our kiss, murmuring a soft, “I need you, Xav,” I respond, “I’m here, baby. Forever.” I step out of the shower, discarding my now-drenched clothes, leaving a trail of wet footprints on hertiled floor.

Once I’ve discarded my clothes, I pick her up—our mouths now entwined together—and carry her into her bedroom. With one arm holding Isla, I grab the letters on her bed and place them on her bedside table before dropping Isla gently onto her bed. I take a towel and dry her body down, moving the towel gently, caressing her body. Her tears have ceased, replaced by an occasional sniffle. As she runs her hands through my hair, I close my eyes, savouring the sensation.

“No, Ineedyou, now,” she croons.

As she speaks, her voice is husky, her nose stuffy from crying. She’s in a vulnerable state, and I can't help but feel torn. I don’t want to take advantage of her, but at the same time, I want to help. Is this what she needs? Because, fuck, I’ll do anything for this woman.

Our mouths still locked in a passionate kiss, I find myself on top of her, the intensity of the moment filling the room with a palpable heat. Breaking our kiss, Isla moves with a purpose, pushing me gently to the side. She positions herself to straddle me, hovering just above my groyne—her hands finding support on my chest.

Isla’s kisses trail a heated path along my face, down my jaw, and along my neck. A low groan escapes my lips as her hips grind against my dick, and I respond by gripping the sides of her hips.

“God, Isla,” I breathe out, my voice a mixture of desire and need. I’m consumed by the intensity of our connection, my hands tightening on her hips. “Wait, are you sure? We don’t have to do anything, baby. Tell me you want this.”

“Yes, baby, I needyou, ” she whimpers. “Iwant this.”

Baby?It’s the first time I’ve heard her call me that, and I want to hear it every day for the rest of my life.

“I’m all yours,” I say, nudging her hips upward to grab hold of my dick. I nudge it at her entrance and I’m instantly welcomed with her wet arousal.Always so wet for me.

I place my tip against her folds, rubbing it up and down, before guiding her hips back down to sit on me. We both groan out at the contact, and Isla moves above in a slow, tortuous rhythm, but in this moment, it’s perfect. There will be plenty of time for hurried, intense sex.

I savour the moment, the deliberate slow pace allowing us to be fully present with each other. The world outside ceases to exist. Right now, it’s about intimacy, it’s about the two of us, joined together as one, as Isla overcomes her waves of grief and loss, relishing in the feeling of my love for her.

Our breathing entwines, her whimpers and moans blending with mine as she rides me, bringing her to the brink of her orgasm.

And when she cries out, my name escaping her lips, burying her face in my neck, I follow suit not long after, releasing my load deep inside her, where it belongs. I run my hands up and down her back as she trembles, coming down from her orgasm. And while laying on top of me, we sit like that for a while, until her body becomes limp and she rolls gently to my side.

I move quickly to grab a towel from her bathroom. As I wipe between her legs and clean her up, I hear Isla let out a soft sigh, a sign that she’s reaching the brink of sleep. Laying back down beside her, Iwrap her up in my arms, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

“Isla,” I whisper, my voice a gentle murmur.

“Mmm?” she responds, her voice sleepy and content as she rests her head on my chest.

“You okay, love?” I ask.

“Mhmm, more than okay.” I continue to pepper gentle kisses on her head, tracing comforting circles along her spine with my fingertips.

---