Page 95 of Last Love

“Yeah, I um,” he drops down onto the edge of the couch beside me, “I got up to piss and you weren’t there next to me. I don’t ever fucking sleep good when you’re not just…right…fucking…there.”

“Me either.” My hand lovingly lands on his leg. “And I actually hate when we have to sleep apart. I want us together every night. Even on nights where I work late or you have to work stupid fucking early. I wanna come home to you every day, Ry. And I’m sorry that you don’t feel like you’re welcomed to help in my life, babe. I’m even more sorry that it feels like I’m always the dealer in this card game versus us sitting on the same side of the table trying to get a win together. That’s something I need to work on. And I will.”

His jaw slightly cracks.

“I am so fucking far from perfect and the whole ‘have my shit together’ thing is really not the case.”  The vulnerableness I’m starting to sense I don’t show enough presents itself further. “I bailed on a five-year relationship with no plan, nowhere to go, and no idea who the fuck I was. And in the process of figuring all that shit out, I fell in love with you all over again. Yes, I have a lucrative career that I’ve dreamt of for so long, but that’s about the end of line for ‘shit together’. If it weren’t for you, I damn sure wouldn’t take my meds nearly as steadily as I do or even go the extra distance to incorporate extra supplements to assist in a healthier system. My diet would probably consist of crackers, cookies, and Chinese food because I know it’ll deliver to me until midnight. And most importantly, I would miss so much of the fun things life has to offer because without you around, I would keep forgetting to look up. To binge watch television. To buy us concert tickets. To have a soap bubble fight while doing dishes together. Ry, I may not be the best at being open, either, but please, never doubt that you have a space in my life.” The flexing of my fingers is loving. Adoring. “That you are wanted and valued in it.”

“I love you, Pres,” he immediately states, hand landing on top of mine. “And I really fucking needed to hear that.”

“I love you, too.”

There’s a small pause attached to a soft stroke from his thumb. “Noah called about an hour ago while we were out.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And when I called him back, he told me that our father died.”

“Ohmygod, when?!”

“Around two this morning.”

“Ohmygod,” I airily repeat.

“He told me that Janet was there with him. That he died like he wanted, in the comfort of his own bed next to pictures of his kids and holding the hand of someone he loved.”

There’s no stopping my shoulders from sagging more. “He was in love with his nurse?”

“They were in love. And I know part of the reason he felt so strong about repairing shit was because she opened his eyes in a way that only someone you love can.”

Swooning probably shouldn’t occur yet does.

“I asked Noah if he needs me to come over or help with anything, but he said it was fine. That Shelly was there. That their nanny was helping with Shelby, so they were good to deal with everything. I told him I loved him, texted her to let me know if they need something at any point, and then called Big Roscoe to tell him I’d be out for a few days dealing with a death in the family.”

“You call Law next?”

He shakes his head while curling his fingers around mine. “You are my soulmate. You need me to show you that I can reach for you, too, so here I am. Reaching.”

It feels dumb to ask; however, I do it anyway. “You okay?”

“No.”

“You having a craving?”

“All of them.”

The response that leaves my lips is sweetly done, “Have a hit of me then.”

His eyebrows lift in question.

“You need something to calm your nerves and quiet your mind, so use me.”

My offering seems to ignite a hungry growl I haven’t heard in days.

“Roll me.”

His hand slides away from mine towards my sleep shorts covered inner thigh.

“Light me.”

The fingers in the space twitch in a wordless demand to part my legs.

“Put me to your lips,” I take off the shirt in one swift motion, “and fucking smoke me.”

Ry’s body mounts mine like a crazed animal.

There’s a merciless yanking off of my shorts.

His boxers.

There’s ferocious folding of my knees to my chest.

Thrusting inside.

While I’m not initially soaking wet, it doesn’t stay that way long. Between the appreciation for him showing me the ugly rather than hiding from me and loving the fact I’m the chosen vice rather than another substance, my pussy weeps in gratitude the same way my mouth is crying out his name.

I expect him to shut his eyes and get lost in the relentless rocking, yet his hooded stare latches onto mine.

Let’s me know he’s right here in this moment.

Right here with me.

Ry digs his fingers into my calves and increases the speed. Bucks into me until my body is being sadistically lifted off the couch during every hit. Having him remorselessly so deep, splits the slick muscles over and over and over again, spreading the juices onto every inch of skin they collide with. Barbaric huffs rain from his parted mouth as his balls spank the parts of me that his hands currently can’t.

He grunts.

Growls.

Groans.

Fucks faster and harder and fiercer until his cock sends searing streams to the deepest depths it can scorch.

I make the mistake of assuming everything is over, which is why when his mouth latches onto my swollen clit I scream at the top of my lungs, “Ry!”

Vibrations from his growls only prompt my pussy to lift into the feast. My entire being becomes enslaved by his tongue with my hips rolling in circles to never lose the pressure and my fingers viciously pinning his head in place to preserve the perfect position. The unrestrained lashes are frantic and feverish. They’re simultaneously too much and too little. They’re that of an uncaged creature who hasn’t eaten since he was last in the wild. Ry’s consumption continues with no regards to having his own cum on his tongue or care how taboo tasting himself might be. He impetuously sucks and slurps and whirls his wet muscle around as if doing tequila shots at the bar.  I let my legs possessively clamp around his ears and my voice shake from the intensity of the moans. And the second I come, he grunts into the action.

Rolls his face around the juices dripping loose.

Rises back to his knees and dives in for another round.

For hours, the love of my life unyielding drains me. Rips orgasm after orgasm out of me, out of him, out of us, in practically every room in the house. While we started outside, by the time he’s finally reached a point of satiation, we’re sprawled out on the stairs having gone one more round on our way back down to the kitchen after having rubbed one off in the loft.

His scruffy face lovingly nudges the crook of my neck next to where he collapsed prompting me to ask, “How do you feel?”

“Really fucking good.”

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