Page 56 of Up in Flames

The Next Day

My eyes open from a restful sleep.

I’m sure I woke up during the night to something—was it whispering?—but I’m just not sure what it was. But then again, it was probably a dream, so I won’t bring it up.

Cain is wrapped around me. Every inch of his body is entangled with mine. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he has separation issues. Rolling over in his grasp to face him, he inhales and slowly opens his eyes, blinking a few times. Leaning in, I press my lips to his softly, and his turn into a smile against mine as he fully wakes.

“I sleep well when you’re in bed with me,” he murmurs, then kisses the tip of my nose. Giggling, I scrunch up my nose. “God, I love it when you do that.” He groans as he grabs hold and rolls over on top of me. Laughing, he nuzzles into my nose and then looks down into my eyes. “Do it again,” he requests playfully.

I laugh and wrinkle my nose once more.

Cain raises his eyebrows insinuatingly. “That drives me crazy!” His tone is filled with lust as he leans in, kissing me passionately, his tongue twisting with mine as his hips rock into me slightly. My hands shift into his hair and hold him to me as we kiss for an eternity.

***

Most of Sunday is spent in his bed talking, kissing, and adding in a couple of rounds of hardcore, kinky fucking, which is something I never thought would be my style. But Cain makes being sexual seem like the most natural thing in the world. He makes me feel sensual, and even though the things we do I’ve never done before, he ensures I’m completely comfortable, leaving me feeling safe and satisfied at the same time.

Eventually, we both crave sustenance, so we get dressed and go to the living room. I feel a little shy about finally coming out of the bedroom after our show last night and spending all day in his room today, so I hope Rodberg won’t embarrass me too much.

He’s sitting on the sofa watching more soccer with a Budweiser in one hand and the other down his briefs.

I scoff when I see him.Jesus! That image is now firmly implanted in my brain.

He looks up and smiles wide. “Hey, fuckers, thanks for the show last night. My Iron Rod got a good workout after that fucking performance,” he states.

Eww. Too much information!

“You felt the need to tell us that?” Cain asks, looking annoyed.

“Well, I was thinking about ramming my Iron Rod into herWonder Woman,if you know what I mean?” he asks, nodding his head up and down in satisfaction.

Oh my God! Is he for real?

Do men actually talk like that?

“You’re not going near her with your Iron Rod. Period. So get that thought out of your head before I have to smack you the fuck out with a crowbar and pry the thought from your cold, lifeless body,” Cain declares, looking to me like he wants my approval regarding his behavior.

At least he’s trying not to be violent.

It was much better than grabbing him by the ears and punching him in the jaw. So yeah, I’ll give him that. I smile and nod.

Rodberg shrugs before Cain leads me toward the kitchen.

“You know she wants my… Iron Rod,” Rodberg calls out from the living room.

Cain groans as I let out a small giggle out of ridiculousness.

“Is he always like this?” I ask.

Cain shrugs like he’s used to Rodberg’s apparent lack of social etiquette.

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles.

Three Weeks Later

Time flies by, and I spend Christmas with my parents but New Year’s with Cain. After the new year, Cain and I spend every weekend together as he’s busy during the week with work. Every Saturday, we head down to the park and sit under our tree while I work on my manuscript. He quietly situates behind me, feeding me, gently playing with my hair or kissing my neck while I work.

He is my rock, my safe place.

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