Page 88 of A Very Friendly Valentine's Day
The One Before the One with the Valentines
I remember when I was sixteen, going to school on Valentine’s Day and getting candy grams from twenty-seven different girls. I had a crush on a really hot senior, so I gave all twenty-seven heart-shaped lollipops to her at lunch. She then thanked me by giving me a blow job, under a blanket, in the back seat of her Honda Civic. We both blew off the school dance that night and went to the seven-thirty showing ofThe Wolfmanbecause that chick movieValentine’s Daywas sold out, and she gave me a hand job in the back row of the theater.
I thought that was a great Valentine’s Day.
But it was a steaming pile of horse shit compared to this one because I woke up with Birdie Beckett in my arms. I love her a lot when she’s awake, but I really love to watch her sleep. In a non-creepy, appreciative way. I’m pretty sure she dreams about rapping Degas ballerinas, Egon Spengler, and me. I’m very sure that that brain of hers will never stop thrilling and delighting and confounding me.
We spent most of yesterday in this hotel room, and neither one of us has any regrets about it. All of New York is out there waiting for us, but there was so much ofeach otherthat we needed to explore once we woke up from our five-hour nap. This hotel is library-themed, and I couldn’t have designed a more perfect room for her if I tried. I fully intend to take her to Central Park and The Met museum later this morning, after ordering room service. But first, I’m going to let Birdie do this thing that she seems really intent on doing.
It involves her mouth and her hands and my cock, and I am all for it.
She treats my body the way she has always treated the rest of me—with studious attention to detail, a keen understanding of my sensitivities and needs, affection, and an enjoyment of certain aspects of me that many women don’t pay enough attention to.
The way she slides one soft hand up and down my shaft, along with her mouth, while cupping my balls, for instance.
“Fuck. Baby. That feels so good.”
She groans with pleasure, and it just about does me in.
I reach behind myself to grab on to the headboard. There’s a sense of discovery in the way she does things, but she is so bold, and it turns me on like nothing else ever has. She wants to make me feel good, like the best kind of friend and lover.
“Birdie…” It pains me to say this, but… “Baby, you need to stop. I want to fuck you and I need to do it now.”
She sucks and licks me one more time before kissing her way up my abdomen, my chest. She kisses along my jaw and nibbles on my ear lobe, and then she straddles me, adjusts herself so my erection is nestled between her ass cheeks, wiggles around, and goddammit. “You are the hottest woman I’ve ever been with, and you need to know that.”
She laughs quietly, smirking. She doesn’t believe me, and it’s killing me.
I take her face in my hands. Her mane of wavy hair hangs loose around her. She looks wild and demure at the same time, and I am mad for her. “You are. Your hair. This hair.” I comb my fingers through it, massage her scalp, and then tug on the strands. “Your beautiful crazy hair.” I kiss her lips. “This beautiful puffy mouth and all the things you say with it.” I stroke her dark eyebrows with my thumbs. “These beautiful blue eyes and the way you see through me.” I kiss her neck, from her shoulder up to that spot behind her ears, until her head tilts back and she sighs. “This beautiful long neck.” I catch her earlobe between my teeth. “The way you actually listen to what I say.” And then my tongue finds her breasts, and I forget to tell her how beautiful they are with words, but she gets my meaning.
I can feel exactly how much she gets it. She sits up, the covers fall from her shoulders. I glide one of my hands from her hip, up the side of her, to her face. She tilts her head and takes my thumb into her mouth, sucking on it. With a kind of gentle passion and urgency that makes me want to take care of her and fuck her senseless for the rest of my life.
That’s how it is with us. This easy, comfortable camaraderie. A desire to do what’s right for both of us—whatever it takes for us to be together—underscored with a restrained yearning. And then all of a sudden, an undeniable ache and longing, followed by an intense need to just fucking do it already.
I flip her onto her back. Her legs bend and spread apart, feet flat on the mattress. She is breathing heavily, and she is hungry for me. “This right here—the way your body opens up for me.” I position myself at her entrance, skin-to-skin, because that’s how we do it now. “That’s beautiful, and it’s so hot.”
She grabs my face, pulls herself up to kiss me, and then drops back down. “I get it, I’m hot. I’m hot and I’m so wet for you—just fuck me already.”
“You got it.” I press inside her. Slowly at first and then hard, and the way she squeezes her eyes shut and sucks in her breath when she feels the hot sting of my hard cock entering her is so sexy. I want to hear it again, so I do it again. Her back arches. She reaches for my shoulders, wraps her legs around mine, takes me in deeper. “I love you.” There’s nothing else I need to say to her right now and I don’t have to hold those words back anymore.
“I love you.” She says it like it feels so good and hurts just a little, and that’s about right.
I can fuck her slow and steady or I can fuck her hard and fast, and she’ll still know that I love her.
So, I do both.
I make love to Birdie Beckett, slow and steady.
And then I fuck her hard and fast like our lives depend on it.
I fuck her until we’re both slick with sweat and hoarse from gasping and groaning and screaming. I fuck her until she’s come apart beneath me, on top of me, in front of me. And then I come inside her when she begs me to, because it’s what we both want and need and because I have to give everything to her, in every way possible.
I don’t know how else to do it anymore.
There’s the flash of awareness, the darkness and the nothingness, and then there’s just Birdie, calling me home.
As much as I love the sex, I think it’s theafterpart that I used to wonder about with her. With other women, I always wanted to leave as soon as the sex was over. But with Birdie, I want to stay. It’s as simple as that.
She faces me. Our heads share a pillow. I kiss her forehead, stroke her hair. She traces circles around my pecs with her fingertip, staring at my chest.
