Page 26 of Dirty, Bruised Martini
I didn’t know what the hell to do. With your body, fuck yes. With your mind, I had no fucking clue. Was it safe? Normal? Healthy?
But when you slid around and climbed me like you owned me, you didn’t give me any opportunity to resist. Like I ever could. Like I ever would.
For a few seconds, I think we were both paralyzed. Each of us stunned by the realization. Dazed to suddenly be together. My throbbing dick trapped between us. Your taut rosebud nipples grazing my pounding chest. Our rapid breaths heavy and eager mingling between our lips.
Until you whispered, “tell me again that you love me.”
Then I knew exactly what the fuck to do. The desperation in your wobbling voice fucking pushed me over the edge, and I had no other choice but to show you—fucking prove to you—how I felt. There was no other option except to grasp your hips and slowly glide you down to the only place you belong. To the only cock you’ll ever feel inside your sweet pussy ever again.
You were tight. So damn tight I was scared I would hurt you. I was hurting you. God damn it. I almost fucking lost it when you tensed under my hands. I swear to god I could feel the panic tightening your little body. Your muscles squeezing in uncertainty. But thank fucking god you relaxed when I demanded that you tell me you love me. That you want this. That you want me.
You did. Over and over. Reassuring both of us. With your words and your kisses and your body sheathing mine in your insistence.
We fucked standing up. Something we’ve never done before. My grip tightened on your ass when I wondered if it’s because you never did with him. Fucking motherfucker. I pushed that bastard and his bullshit out of my brain. All my focus on you. What you need. What you deserve.
So I made love to you. In the middle of the bathroom. Broad daylight and open door be damned. Slow and cautious. Yet genuine and sincere. I wrapped your delicate fingers in mine and held them to my chest. Holding your hand. Providing you the reassurance I know you like. Your legs squeezing my waist harder confirmed I gave you what you hoped for.
I told you what else I needed you to know. That you’re my gorgeous little chameleon. Sweet yet stubborn. Innocent yet naughty. Independent yet so damn giving and generous.
You nodded. Agreeing and accepting and absorbing everything I said. You smiled your indulgent smile when I told you I hoped I would put my son inside you today. That I would raise him how my father raised me. Love your women. Cherish them. Kill for them. Anything to keep your wife, your mother, your daughter safe.
You shook your head when I promised you he would take care of you long after I’m gone. You don’t like thinking about me dead. Hell, I don’t either. I’ll miss you too fucking much. Yearning for you from my fucking grave, rosy girl. But I swore I would always protect you even if I’m not here.
Clinging to me as I slowly lifted and lowered you. Your free arm coiled around my neck as the friction built between us. Until I welcomed your silent release. Until your contracting pussy milked a wordless explosion out of me while we hugged each other. The gentlest and quietest we’ve ever fucked. But you didn’t seem to mind. I know I sure as hell didn’t.
I didn’t lose control. You didn’t cry. Doesn’t seem like much, but it was. A whole hell of a lot after all you’ve been through. Especially when I glanced over and almost couldn’t fucking breathe from the beautify of it. Not sure how I missed us before. I guess I was so focused on your gorgeous face. But us together is fucking magnificent too.
I nudged you to look too. Lift your head to see how fucking amazing you are, I told you. Your beautiful eyes met mine. Scanning us entwined together in our reflection before your gaze dropped to the floor. Fuck that shit. Eyes on me. Eyes on us rosy girl. You shivered from my command but obeyed like the good girl you are. Resting your cheek against mine rather than my shoulder, you finally smiled. Making my cock come to life again still inside you. But I didn’t push. I just held you until you finally spoke. Admitting what you’ve been fretting about all this time. As if I give a damn that you might not be able to play like you used to. You’re not ready to be tied up or spanked or blindfolded. That you may never be.
I’m sorry I got more pissed than I should have. But I hate when you think the worst. That you worry over what you can’t do when all I want to focus on is what you can do. You’ve got balls coming in here and seducing me. On your terms. The way you wanted. I’m fucking impressed and so fucking hard again. Once again you blow me away how damn amazing you are.
I think of you when I take one last long look at myself in the mirror.
Hoping you’ll like my dress. My flowing hair. My genuine smile. Well aware that what you’ll really like the most is that I’m there and we’re finally doing this.
I’ll have a different name, be a different person the next time I see myself. I guess I already am with everything that happened. Experiences, good and bad, wanted or not, make us who we are. But you seem to still love the girl I was and the girl I am now. Nothing has changed my feelings for you either. So I guess we really should do this. I’m ready to do this.
I think about you while I watch you sleep.
Peaceful and content. Youandme. Both of us finally happy.
God you’re so fucking beautiful. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of you curled up in my bed with that slight smile covering your sweet face.
You let me marry you today, rosy girl.
You let me put my ring on your finger and my name next to yours.
You let me make love to you again. Really this time. Not a test of you or of me like in the bathroom.
But because you love me and trust me.
And thank fucking god I was the only one fucking afraid when I held you. Yeah, I know that’s being a weak ass pussy. But it would fucking kill me if you looked at me with fear. If you ever look at me again like you’re frightened of me.
You didn’t. Not once. Not when I kissed you or fucked you or came deep inside you. Smiling while you rested your head on my chest afterward and told me how lucky we are.
We’ve made it. To the end of the nightmare. Which is really just the beginning for us.
Jane won’t like it, but I’m not going to write in this stupid journal any longer. Not that I’ve been that great at keeping up with daily entries lately anyway. But, why would I want to waste time on writing about our life when I can actually just enjoy spending it with you?
