Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
It’s going to be special for me when I take you hard, over and over, and whisper in your ear, “Our future starts here.”
All of that flits through my mind in a blink, and I push it all away.
“What are you asking?” I say.
She swallows. “When was the last time you…you know?”
“When I was twenty-nine,” I tell her.
She gasps, her mouth falling open, giving me carnal ideas even as we hover in this place of affection.
“Are you serious?”
“I told you at the beginning. I’ll never lie to you.”
Ask me if I want children with you. Ask me if I love you.
The unspoken words keep coming.
“That was eleven years ago,” she says, something like awe in her voice. “Why did you wait so long?”
“I’ve never enjoyed casual sex,” I tell her. “I’ve never tried it, but I knew I wouldn’t enjoy it. I think it should mean something.”
She blinks, eyes glistening. “Me too.”
“I told you I tried to pretend and make myself believe it meant something. But it never did. So I stopped getting into relationships…and that’s why it’s been so long since I had sex.”
She keeps staring as though there are countless things she wants to say.
I will for her to do it, to either shatter the illusion or prove it true.
“Do you see, Freya?” I stroke my hand over her head, taming some of her beautifully wayward strands of hair. “It’s going to be special for me too. And not just because it’s been so long. I’ve never felt this…and I know it will translate to the bedroom. I know it will feel as new for me as it is for you.”
She slowly smiles as if she’s unsure of letting herself. “And you’re telling the truth?”
“I swear…”
I was about to say I swear on our future children, but I cut myself short.
What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if she never does?
“I’ll never lie to you. You don’t deserve that. You deserve the truth.”
“Thank you,” she mutters. “Really. That means a lot.”
“So…,” I nod to my shoulder. “Are you going to get started?”
“It’s just a simple piece, isn’t it?” she says, with the air of more talking to herself than me. “A heart…not even filled in? Just half of it?”
“Whatever you like,” I say, letting my hand drop from her face and then leaning over and laying a soft kiss on her cheek.
It has to be soft, or I won’t be able to stop myself from sliding my hand up her leg, between her legs, over her body.
“It’s the symbolism I care about,” I tell her. “Every time I look at the tattoo, I’ll think of our first time. I’ll feel it as the tattoo heals. I’ll never forget.”
“Are we…” She pauses, biting down, “going to have more than one, uh, time, do you think?”
My manhood pulses, rock-solid, aching.
“Yes,” I say passionately, causing my woman to flinch under the force of my lust. “And so you know, Freya, I consider us exclusive. The second you agreed to be my girlfriend, I was certain, and no other man touches you…understand?”
She nods so eagerly that I almost tell her the full extent of my want right there.
“I agree,” she whispers. “I want that too.”
“Then let’s start our journey,” I say, and then I can’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Freya asks, but she’s laughing too.
It’s like we can’t resist it, as though suddenly we’re giddy on each other, higher than any drug could ever get us.
“Before I met you, I never would’ve said anything like that. But you’ve changed me, Freya. You changed me the moment I saw you.”
“You changed me too,” she murmurs, our eyes locked.
This is the moment.
I could tell her, explain it all, but then the moment passes as she guides the tat gun toward my arm.
She pushes it against my skin, breathing slowly.
“Does it hurt?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her. “It would hurt more not to have it.”
Without looking at me – she’s entirely focused on her work – her eyebrow quirks upward. “What does that mean?”
“It means it would be painful to me, Freya, for your first time to be meaningless. I mean, it hurts far more not having a symbol of….”
Our love.
I almost don’t stop. I almost say it, as senseless as it would seem to her.
“Of us,” I finish.
“Is it bad I care about this more?” Freya asks a moment later, moving the tattoo gun deftly. “Us, Felix, me, and you. I care more than Mike, Mr. Red, or whatever that sick freak is called. I care about it more than what Julie told me about her dad. I care about us more than anything that’s happening.”
“Me too,” I say, my voice shivering with emotion and desire. “That’s why Kenny and I are going to handle this bastard. Once he’s gone – arrested or dead – we’ll be free to be together.”