Holy fuck—James!” My head whipped back as he held my thighs flush against the edge of the mattress, open like a butterfly. He rolled his hips, hard, pounding me into oblivion.
My hands clung to him, fingers digging into his firm forearms. Basically in corporal cruise control, my body automatically responded with nonsensical obscenities, squeezing my fleshy walls tightly around him inside of me.
Kegels are worth it.
“God damn, babe,” he said through clenched teeth, clearly trying to retain control. A high-pitched squeal escaped from my mouth, my face warping in pleasure with the next slam of his cock inside me. ”Fuck—”
He let go of my thighs, tucking an arm under me to hold onto my shoulder, the other hand tightening around the side of my neck, catching the hairs of my nape in his fingernails. Our faces smashed together, breathing in one another’s heavy pants.
What’s he trying to do, make love to my cervix?
I lifted off the bed with the next couple of heavy strokes before—
My eyelids stretched open, and my head dropped back to see what the hell I knocked into.
Oh shit, the headboard! How the fuck did we get up here?! Weren’t we just at the edge of the bed?
I wrapped my legs around his waist, the balls of my feet digging into the backs of his thighs, begging for more. Another slam, and my jaw unhinged.
Keep this up, buddy, and you’re gonna knock my IUD right out.
Wait a minute...
“James!” I released his shoulders and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me. “Are you trying to get me pregnant?!”
His thrusts became sloppy as his eyes went manic, knowing I had figured him out.
“We have to—talk about this—” I managed to rasp before he covered my mouth with his and pressed his hand on my stomach, causing the most intense sensation across my G-spot.
Another horrible wanna-be porn star noise was made. By me.
The viscous remains of my melted brain bubbled away in the cauldron that my head had become, the soft simmer starting to crescendo into a full rolling boil, preparing to flare up and totally spill over. My elbows jammed into his shoulder blades, my hands all but ripping at those pretty blonde curls, as my back arched and convulsed through a mind-boggling orgasm.
“I fucking love you!” he cried out in one breath, seizing and releasing into me before his head sank into the dip of my shoulder, and a curtain of darkness closed over my eyes.
And what a way to go.
I woke from my pleasure-induced mini-coma, my fingers wandering over the sensitive skin on James’ shoulders and back, hazily watching goosebumps sprout and spread like weeds.
I exhaled sharply and prepared mentally for this very serious conversation we needed to have.
“We’ve got to—”
“Not now.” His head popped up from my shoulder, his lips teasing my still-swollen ones, and I felt a certain Jimmy Jr. against my inner thigh. “I want you on top.”
He flipped us over, and I, too limp to fight it, just whined out my disbelief.
He held and rocked my hips, rubbing my fucking spent clit over his hardening erection. “I’ll do all the work.”
Having no functioning brain cells to formulate a decent verbal response, my head nodded in approval and surrender.
James groaned, and when I managed to open my eyes to the smallest of slits, I saw him biting down on his lower lip, his neck and chest taut, the rounded ridges of his abs contracting under my hips.
"Fuuuck,” I whimpered out.
He lifted and dropped me onto him, thrusting upwards. My body turned to putty and I fell forward, adhering my torso to his, my fingers pressing into his arms before settling behind his neck.
Is it possible to die from pleasure? I think this is the end for me.
His lips brushed against mine, as he continued to slide me up and down his dick, like a droopy Betty Spaghetty.
“Babe, fuck—I love you...” he spoke into my mouth, holding a fistful of my hair back.
I almost didn’t notice his body tightening below me, my mind too immersed in our mutual desire. With heavy breaths, I parroted back, “I love you." He came quick, the vibrations from his climax made my clit sing out a swell from Verdi’s Aida.
My mind went static and he enveloped me in his arms. With my lips on his inked shoulder, I fell into unconsciousness, a waning hum in my ears.
Stirring awake the following morning, I sprawled out in our bed like a sunning starfish, stretching my feet and pointing my toes, lifting my arms above my head with a strained whine.
He fucked me into an all-night coma.
My thumb went right to my left hand’s ring finger, toying with the antique gold band set with a single rose-cut emerald surrounded by smaller diamonds in a flower pattern. I checked it every morning by habit.
I smiled at the memory of how he had gotten Coco to spy on my Pinterest account, finding the vintage piece on my ”I Want This" board. I adored the fact that it had a history before us that was inextricably intertwined with our fucked up little love story.
“Let’s get married, babe.” James had pressed himself into my back, while I remained hazy from sleep one early morning.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go to Vegas right now,” my snarky ass responded.
He dragged his lips and tongue across the ridge of my shoulder and up my neck, followed by a velvety sensation, triggering goosebumps all over my bare skin.
What the hell was that? Even my clit has goosebumps.
He had brushed away some of my annoying curls from the pillow, tangling his fingers into them and turning me to face him. He held a royal blue jewelry box open, the ring inside just catching the bright streak of light sneaking in between the panels of our blackout curtains.
“You’re my dream girl, Megh.” His hazel eyes at that moment picked up yellow rays from the sun and lit up my heart. They moved slowly between my stretched eyes. “Marry me.”
I had said yes, of course, and we got married in two separate ceremonies a few months later. My parents tried to invite six hundred people to the Hindu wedding, but they deemed the word of their prodigal son-in-law like holy scripture, and he shut that shit down.
They seriously love him so much.
The smell of coffee, eggs, and toast crept in under the closed bedroom door, forcing me out of our memories and messy bed.
Oh, thank fuck. I’m starving.
I dragged myself into the bathroom, robotically brushing my teeth while pulling our Chuck Close tee on, the once-rigid cotton a slack viscose falling loosely over my frame. Peering out of the doorway, my heart tickled at the sight of James at the stove in nothing but gym shorts, and Kirby sitting by his feet, sweeping his tail across the floor.
Aww, my little loves.
Fuck, I’ve gone soft.
Kirby joined our family shortly after moving to Echo Park. I had seen a sign that said, “Adopt a Puppy TODAY!” and having no impulse control, he came home with me.
“Love me. I’m just a li-uh-ttle puhppy,” I had said in my best country drawl, voicing over for Kirby, smooshing him against my cheek, trying to get James to make eye contact with the cocker spaniel-poodle mix.
He couldn’t resist a sweet furry face, or my pout, and had caved. The two of them became inseparable, though I still reigned queen in both of their hearts.
The hard lines of his back muscles danced with every stirring motion while making breakfast. I slid my hands around him from behind and nuzzled into the space between his shoulder blades.
“Good morning,” I mumbled into his back.
“Mmm, I bet it is.” He laughed, reaching back to give my ass cheek a small squeeze, then turned around to offer me a mug of coffee.
I smacked him on the chest. “Smartass. Gimme that.”
We sat on the barstools at the kitchen island, and I inhaled the contents of my dish quicker than he could start a conversation.
“So.” I rinsed my plate off before loading it into the dishwasher. “Are we really not gonna talk about what happened last night?”
James stopped mid-bite, clearing his throat before he finished chewing, then set his fork down. I walked back around the island, leaning against the counter at his side.
“What was that look?” I prodded him.
Never thought I’d be the one fucking forcing us to talk about serious emotional shit.
James hung his head with a sigh, then lifted it to look back at me with rounded eyes. Kirby mirrored his expression between us on the floor, tilting his head slightly, looking as worried as I felt.
“I want a baby,” he said softly, weaving his fingers through my open hand where it hung from the edge of the quartz top.
Hand-holding had become a thing, just like coffee. It morphed into something more, like an expressive art form that wordlessly conveyed our emotions.
I drew in a breath, focusing on how he played with my fingers.
“I know it’s hard for you to think about, because—”
“Yeah,” I cut him off, wanting to avoid fixating on ghosts of the past.
I instead stared at his hand as it traveled up and caressed my arm, his fingers finding their resting spot in the crease of my elbow. My eyes flicked back up to his, which glossed over with sincerity.
You love him. Don’t deny him this time because of your own hang-ups.
Somewhere not-so-deep down, you want it, too.
Watching his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped, I shifted my body to close the gap between us, cupping his jaw in my palms and rubbing his beard stubble with my thumbs. “I want to give you what you want.” I nuzzled his face.
His mouth twitched against mine, turning up at the edges for a split second. “Really?”
I nodded, sporting a mischievous smile.
Fucking is supposed to be fun, right?
“Let’s do this.”