Page 59 of Loving London

London’s bottom lip starts to tremble as her eyes fill with tears once more. Her beautiful brown gaze finds mine, and she holds us there—in this quiet space where no words are spoken, but so much is said.

She guides her hands down my face, my arms, and my chest, healing me with her touch. Her fingertip traces each scar before she kisses it. She supplies extra kisses to the scar on my side where I was hit with a large piece of shrapnel.

Finally, she makes her way down to my leg. Her fingertip presses lightly against the scarred skin, tracing the web of healed cuts and the outline of staples and stiches still present across the marred skin.

Her eyes, wide with adoration and pride, lift to mine. Her lips part as she breathes in, her breath steady. The love she shines on me is unwavering.

Breaking our stare, she drops her attention back to my leg where she proceeds to place soft kisses against every inch of the damaged stump. I suck in air. Raw and ragged breaths carry much-needed oxygen to my brain. Grabbing at the sheets on either side of me, I attempt to ground myself. London’s emphatic pronouncement, her kisses of unrelenting love, sears me to the core.

“Loïc, don’t ever be ashamed of your scars.” Tears fall down her cheeks. “Your scars are proof of the battles you’ve fought and survived. You could have checked out completely, but you didn’t. You fought to come back. You fought to live. You fought when your heart felt it had nothing to fight for. You are strong. You are brave. You are a warrior. And don’t you ever forget it.”

My eyes fill with unshed tears as this moment with London is more than I could have ever asked for. She’s not looking at me like I’m wounded. She’s looking at me like I’m powerful.

Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Her trembling skin is flushed as her dilated pupils stare at me.

In her face, I see a myriad of emotions—love, respect, and pride, to name a few—but the one I love most of all is lust. Even though I’m broken, she desires me every bit as much as I do her.

She places me at her entrance, and as she slides down, we let out a collective moan of pleasure because London and I together is the greatest feeling in the world.

Utter fucking perfection.

“Oh my God,” London cries into the heated space. Her hips move eagerly up and down against me, her internal wall squeezing me.

My shaky hands move over every inch of her skin, ravishing it, burning it with my touch. I need to feel London, all of her.

“Oh my God,” London says again with a shaky inhalation as she falls on top of my chest in a heap of tears.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, dragging my fingertips up her back.

This moment carries an incredible ache with a vast contradiction of emotions. I understand what London’s feeling because I feel it, too.

How does one grasp the moment when a heart once thought to be broken for eternity heals?

I flip us so that London is lying on the bed beneath me. Pressing my forearms into the mattress on either side of her head, boxing her in with my arms, I kiss her. I slowly pepper soft kisses across her cheeks, tasting the saltiness of her tears.

After I kiss the tip of her nose, I say, “I know…this is so incredible that it hurts, but I promise that this will be the last time I ever cause you pain, London.”

I start to move into London again. With each unhurried push, I place my lips against hers.

“I. Love. You,” I say, each word staccato. “I’m never leaving you again. I promise. Okay?”

London nods as her hands grab my face. Our lips collide in a crash of insane desire. With each rhythmic movement against each other, our cadence accelerates. Our need intensifies.

London continues to kiss me senseless, our tongues licking greedily.

The rest of the world has fallen away, and it’s just me and London, together, in this perfect moment filled with kisses, promises, and an intense amount of love.

I move faster, bringing London closer to the edge. She pants wildly, digging her fingers into my back.

“Loïc,” she whimpers from the back of her throat. Her eyes become unfocused before her lids close.

I steel myself for the release to come, rocking myself into London at the angle I know she craves. It’s been so long, but I know her body, every bit of it. I know what she needs.

London yells with a half-sob as she begins to shudder beneath me, waves of ecstasy erupting through her body. I follow her, groaning with enormous jolts of pleasure.

I cradle my face into London’s neck, feeling the blood rushing through her veins against my cheek.

“I love you so much,” I declare over and over against her skin.

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