“You did?” she asks, and she sucks in an audible gasp as I peel her panties down her legs and expose her sex.
“I did,” I say, and I know I’m close enough that my breath will be felt on her mons.
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
“So will you stay?” I ask, and my fingers dance up her inner thighs, and my thumbs press against her petals and pull apart to reveal her glistening, deep pink core.
“Yes,” she says, nodding. She pushes her hips forward a little, and I pull back, looking up to her face. She’s flushed in the cheeks and biting her bottom lip, and it’s taking every shred of restraint I possess to keep this up.
Some people would call it unfair of me to hold her here like this, needy and wanting, and extract promises of lifelong commitment. Me? I call it a mutual exchange of needs.
“Forever?” I whisper, my lips grazing her mound, a vibration no doubt reverberating through her most sensitive, exposed parts.
“Forev—OH SHIT!” she shouts, as I clamp my lips around that sensitive little bud and suckle.
Wren
The pleasure of his mouth on my most intimate parts is so intense that when I close my eyes I can see it as an array of colors, all reds and deep purples and tiny bursts of white-yellow that swirl around each other like a tumultuous ocean. His tongue is like nothing I’ve ever felt, and I moan until my throat is hoarse. Every time I’m very nearly there at my peak, he stops and kisses my inner thighs or the round of my belly before continuing. Except this time.
This time, he pauses only to say “Come for me, little bird. Let me feel you.”
Within moments I am doing just that, roll after roll of pleasure rumbling through me, my hips bucking at his still-sucking lips, my throat hoarse and dry, my inner walls clenching.
And then they’re clenching at him. My orgasm has barely begun to ebb away when he is suddenly inside me, on top of me, thrusting into the rhythm of my lingering pleasure and studying my face with intensity.
“Promise,” he says, as he reaches down to roll his thumb around the little bud that’s still twitching and sensitive from his tongue. He thrusts his hips rhythmically and I can feel the pleasure start to build again, instantly. “Promise you’ll stay forever.”
“How are…” I stutter over my question because he undoes the front clasp of my bra and lets my breasts fall free, then leans down and circles his tongue around one pebbled nipple. “How are you so sure?” I ask. It’s more curiosity than anything. I want to know if he can pinpoint how he knows, because I can’t—but I definitely know.
“I just know,” he says. “I’ve known since I met you.”
“I’ve known since I met you,” I say, and it seems to be all the reason he needs to stop talking and kiss me. He keeps his lips on mine and runs his hands under my head on both sides to hold me in place, and then his hips jackhammer into me, fast, hard and desperate, as though he could never feel enough of me.
The pleasure that had been building is suddenly back near the precipice and I gasp aloud, moan into his mouth, and shatter into a million little pieces, every one of them its own little speck of pleasure.
I feel him slam harder, faster, and then he lets out a loud groan beside my ear and holds still, deep inside me, and I feel him twitch as he fills me.
“I love you,” he whispers, once his release is done. He doesn’t move to get out of me yet.
“I love you, too,” I whisper, grinning up at him.
When he’s done peppering my face with kisses—which takes at least a few minutes—he gets up from the bed and walks across the room. I haven’t had much chance to look around yet, but now that I do? The bedroom is huge.
Lucas hits a button on the wall and I hear a strange hum, and then the sound of water. A moment later, the floor opens up in the corner, beside the window, and I realize it’s a freaking hot tub sunk into the floor.
“You have a hot tub in your bedroom?” I ask, laughing.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. He pulls off the remnants of clothing he’s wearing—which are not that many—and climbs into the slightly steaming tub. “We have a hot tub in our bedroom,” he corrects me.
I grin at him, rolling over onto my belly, completely butt naked and more comfortable with it than I’ve ever been.
“We also have this,” he says, reaching out and opening a cupboard beside the hot tub. Inside I see that it’s a fridge, full of bottles of water, wine, sodas and juices.
“A mini bar.” I say.
“A mini bar,” he says, waggling his brows at me and beckoning.
I laugh and shake my head, but a moment later I’m slipping into the warm water with him, settling myself between his legs where he’s pulled me. He presses a button on the side of the tub and it begins to bubble.
“Well I could get used to this,” I say, closing my eyes.
Lucas pulls my mop of curls away from my neck and leans in to kiss me.
“You’d better. Because I’ve never been so sure about anything as I am that you are meant to be here with me, forever, making a home, a family, a life together. I thought I was crazy at first.”
“You are crazy,” I tell him, looking up over my shoulder. “But that makes two of us.”
He leans down and kisses me deeply, and after an hour in the tub he takes me by the hand and leads me back to his bed. I could definitely get used to this.
Epilogue
8 Months Later
Wren
I did get used to it. But not so much that I don’t still love it when we take time to lounge together in the tub, drinking bubbly wine or green smoothies, depending what time of day it is and what plans we have. I never dreamed I could be this happy.
When I first agreed to stick around here my family and friends were concerned. And so was I, if I’m honest. While they worried about the age gap, or worried that we were rushing things, I worried that the fact that Lucas was so wealthy already would lead him to dismiss my desire to make my own living and continue my travel writing. Instead, he’s dived in head first. He had one of the spare rooms turned into a studio for me to record my Vlogs in and he’s sat and brainstormed with me about places we can go so that I can keep making original content. We’ve already taken a few trips, and I have to tell you—traveling with Lucas is way, way more fun than traveling solo.
As soon as my family and friends met Lucas they loved him. He’s the son my dad never had, despite not being that much younger than him, and my mother keeps telling me how much of a catch he is. All of my friends keep trying to get me to introduce them to Lucas’s friends—except June, who wears a smug “told you so” smile for the duration of all her visits.
Even Bret loves Lucas. He got out after his three months in rehab looking much more like the guy I was friends with before our brief, ill-fated relationship. Lucas gave him a job in the shop and he’s slowly paying me back the rent money I lost because of him. I tried to tell him I didn’t want it, but he said he needed to make amends for the things he did while he was using, and Lucas said I should let him. So I donate the payments to the rehab center he was at and it makes me feel a bit less bad for taking the money.