Page 25 of Dirty, Bruised Martini
Do you have any fucking idea how difficult it was for me to run next to you? My dick at half-mast the entire time while you smiled that cute little grin at me. When you challenged me to race to the end of the driveway. When you tugged at your braid absent-mindedly when we walked back for our cool down. Which I don’t ever think I can with you in those running tights showing off your cute ass so perfectly. You’re fucking killing me Giselle.
I realized tonight that I didn’t think of him when you held me today.
When you pleasured me just like you have almost every day for the past eleven days. My cheeks are blazing again thinking about how you make me orgasm over and over. With your tongue and your fingers and your words. Every day you give me so much and never ask anything in return. And every day when I tell you I’m sorry that I’m not taking care of you too, you ignore me. Reminding me you don’t want my apologies just my pussy. Dang it, Kane. Now, I’m blushing again!
I think of my father when I find you hiding a gift in your desk drawer.
You tried to act all nonchalant because I caught you. Pretending that the gorgeous box wrapped in my favorite color paper and a huge sparkly bow wasn’t for me. Dad was goofy about Christmas too. Keeping up the fun even after I knew the truth about Santa Claus. Although he was terrible about keeping secrets secret, especially when he knew we would really like what he picked out. Now that I think about it, I think you wanted to get caught. You want me to know that you have something really special for me. I hope you enjoy my surprise for you just as much.
I think about New Year’s Eve when you give me my gift early.
Fuck, rosy girl. I want to marry you too. Just like we planned. Don’t think for a fucking second I won’t make everything perfect for you.
I think about your growl when I told you I’m glad we haven’t made love yet.
It will make our wedding night that much more special. Like the first time. Which only made you moan louder. I think I may have moaned a little bit myself thinking about that night. Thinking about the next time.
I’m scared but I know I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. You’ll make sure I’m okay. I have no doubts at all that you’ll do and say everything I need to be okay.
I think about our honeymoon when your Mom arrives again.
I like her just fine. A lot actually. But I’m getting more and more anxious to have you all to myself.
I think of my parent’s marriage when I try to make you feel better over my Mom’s response to your present.
Your generous nature just can’t understand how paying off her mortgage and car was simply too much, even from her future son-in-law. Too extravagant a gesture for her to willingly accept.
Failing completely when I urged you not to take her refusal as an insult. My own chest ached when you shook your head. Too late you said. Besides, it’s already done, and you’re sure as hell not taking the money back.
I hated that she hurt you. She is too, even if she’s not willing to admit it yet. Unaware how soft-hearted you really are. Explaining her reasons didn’t seem to help either. Describing how independent she is. Unwilling, maybe even unable, to rely on anyone else. Too self-sufficient to allow anyone to control her.
Which I know increased your frustration. The tightness of your tone very clear when you emphasized you weren’t trying to control her. You just wanted to give her some financial relief so she doesn’t have to work so hard. So she can spend more time with me. A gift for both of us because you love me so much.
But of course that’s not how she sees it. The same endless argument she and my father always had. That’s why they didn’t make it. He wanted to take care of her. She wanted to take care of herself.
At least that comment made you chuckle. Teasing me that now you know where I got my damn stubbornness from. Which I think is definitely the other way around.
You didn’t like my answer when you asked me if they argued a lot when I was a kid. Frowning when I said all the time. Until they didn’t. She finally left, and I ended up splitting my time with them. Every other week with each of them until I went to college. I didn’t like it but as I got older I knew it was for the best. They were too different to be together. Opposites that couldn’t stay attracted.
You took that philosophical observation even worse. Spinning me around so hard, my braids flapped against my face. Goosebumps lifting on my bare arms from my back pinned against the freezing window. Your huge hands cupped my cheeks. Divorce is not an option, you growled against my lips. We don’t give up. We don’t give in. We give all we have to make it work.
I reminded you that I was talking about them. Not us. Yet, the tension in your body didn’t soften until I agreed. Until I confirmed that we were permanent. That forever was the only choice. That I would always stay.
Which is what I wanted all along. I might have been lost for a few days from the trauma, but I’ve always known where I belong.
I think of Jane when you surprise me.
When you sneaked into the bathroom as I dried off after my shower. When you whispered from behind me that you didn’t want to wait. Although all thoughts of consulting with the therapist instantly evaporated like my own damn sanity when I realized what you meant.
Your lips on my bare back.
Your fingers on my hardening cock.
Your naked body pressed into mine.
You wanted me to fuck you.
Right then.
