Page 59 of Last Love

Hitting the lights instead of instantly replying to her illuminates much more than just the four walls I should probably put-up pictures or some shit on.

My eyes immediately drink in Pres’s curvaceous body barely covered in my white sheet, straightened hair pulled to one side, and her mischievous expression I can’t wait to fuck off of her beautiful face. The nudging of my cock against the zipper of my jeans rushes the words out of my mouth. “You’re not working late.”

She shakes her head slowly with a wide grin. “Happy birthday, Ry.”

As easy as it is just to be mesmerized by her and those toned legs stretched out across my mattress, I allow myself to look around the small space that’s been transformed in a ridiculous way. On my typically bare walls are checkered flags along with a “Happy Birthday Ryder” sign. Red and black balloons are littered across the bedroom floor just waiting to be walked through.  The small nightstand near the bed has a sign that reads “Refueling Station” with several bottles of root beer chilling in an ice bucket.

The whole thing is hilariously childlike yet the sweetest fucking shit anyone has probably ever done for me.

I gradually creep closer kicking around balloons. “You did all this for me?”

Pres enthusiastically nods. “Yeah. I took the whole day off. Went to the salon to get my hair straightened,” she points a finger to her locks, “the other salon to my hair waxed,” the same digit points downward eliciting a whimper from me, “and then spent what was left of the day getting my toes painted, buying these decorations, putting them up, and of course, hunting down an orange creamsicle cupcake.”

“You didn’t…”

“Oh, I most certainly fucking did.” The treat is grabbed from behind the bucket to be shown off. “Complete with a candle and everything. Thank you Yasmine’s Yummies for the dessert and not making me go back to the grocery store for the third time in one day.”

Shock paints itself into my expression. “Fuck, I can’t believe you remember my favorite kind of cake.”

“How could I forget anything about you, babe?”

I’m not entirely sure which thumps harder my heart or my cock.

“All the extra hours I worked this week were so that I could take today off guilt free. You should also know that I pushed back my yearly accreditation meeting to ten tomorrow.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I thought we’d celebrate tonight – all night – and then I’d make you breakfast in the morning.”

The twitch in my face is unconscious.

“I know my cooking isn’t great-”

“You’re a better baker.”

Her glare causes me to helplessly chuckle. “But I thought I’d make you breakfast or since you’re being an asshole, you can make me breakfast, now. I went ahead and got stuff for a whole feast. Eggs, bacon, and all the ingredients for crêpes.”

“I love you, baby, but you should definitely stay away from experimenting with French food.”

“I’mma stay away from experimenting with you if you keep making fun of my cooking!”

Laughing is attached to the final steps it takes for me to arrive at my queen-size bed.

“And your birthday gift is two tickets for you and McCoy or you and Noah or perhaps even you and Law to Cartastrophe in November.”

My jaw drops to the floor. “You fuckin’ with me right now?”

More glee explodes in her gaze as she shakes her head.

“You got me two tickets to one of the most expensive, most exclusive car shows in the fucking country?”

She joyfully nods.

“Pres, those tickets cost a fortune.”

“Eh,” my girlfriend brushes off with a small shrug. “One of the dads at my school works for Haworth Enterprises, and they’re hired to do extra security for it every year, so every year for the past three years, he’s offered me discounted tickets. This time I just happened to take him up on the offer.”

Once more my jaw falls to my feet.

“However, I would’ve happily paid full price for them.” Her eyes pin themselves to mine. “For you.”

Fuck me, how have I ever deserved to have this woman in my life?

“Happy birthday, Ryder Collins,” she coos while extending the cupcake towards me. “Want me to light the candle so you can make a wish?”

“What the fuck is there to wish for, Pres?” Landing on the edge of the bed, my hand gently falls on her leg. “I already have you.”

Bashful beaming immediately begins.

“And you’re already in my bed.”

The grinning brightens.

“And you’re already fucking naked.”

Another slow nod occurs.

“You know there’s only one thing left to do, right?”

Her eyebrows lift in curiosity.

“Have my cake…,” ripping the sheet off her figure requires almost no effort, “and fuck it, too.”

“You know I’m not a history buff; however, I’m pretty sure it was ‘let them eat cake’ not ‘fuck cake’.”

“Semantics.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re using that word right.”

“Maybe not, but I’m damn sure about to use you right.”

No other words are said.

Clothes are simply shed, and her body redirected to exactly where I want it.

Afterall, it is my birthday.

Pres’s freshly painted toes anxiously wiggle next to my head due to her legs bent position. Hunger swirls around her gaze while her hips slightly rock upward, begging me to be the one place I’ve been dying to be all day.

And I fucking will be.

However many times she can handle.

Finally taking the cupcake treat out of her possession, I sloppily smear the frosting one on nipple, provoking her to whimper.

Moan.

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