Whenever Rory starts reading a new book, she always wants to read the story aloud to me. I think it’s cute, but I’ve never cared for women’s fiction or romance, which is what she mostly reads. A month ago, after shooting down her fourth request to read to me, I told her I’d only listen if she took off all her clothes while she read. I thought she’d get a little pissed, then resume her book without me. I didn’t expect her to say yes.

I’ve acquired a new appreciation for women’s fiction and romance ever since then. Especially the love scenes. No matter what the circumstances are in the novel, I always imagine the characters are us. The difficult part is trying to keep my hands off Rory’s creamy skin.

She comes into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her body and another wrapped around her head. She heads for the dresser to get some clothes, but pajamas go against everything I have planned for her tonight. I leap out of bed and slide between her and the dresser.

“I’ll go turn up the heater. No clothes is part of the deal.”

She shakes her head as I set off into the hallway to turn up the heat. When I come back, she’s gone. I peek into the bathroom and she’s standing naked in front of the sink, brushing her hair. I enter behind her and take the brush from her hand. Her reflection smiles at mine and I continue brushing. I grab her towel off the rack to squeeze more water out of her hair, then I finish by blow-drying it.

Rory loves when I do girl stuff with her. I try not to imagine that this is because my sister isn’t around to do this kind of stuff with her anymore, but it’s hard not to. What’s worse is that I actually enjoying blow-drying her hair and painting her nails because I know how happy it makes her. As long as she keeps her promise never to tell anyone I do these things, I’ll probably be doing it for the rest of our lives.

I hang the blow-dryer on the rack she asked me to install in the bathroom last week for her hair tools. She turns around to face me and I just want to lift her up and slide my cock inside her right there, but I have to be patient tonight. Tonight is about the long game.

I grab her neck gently, placing my thumb over her pulse, then I kiss her tenderly until I can feel her heartbeat racing. Pulling away slowly, I place a soft kiss on her cheekbone before I take her hand and lead her into the bedroom. The book she bought today is lying on her side of the bed. I hold the covers up for her to get in, then I take off my boxers before sliding in next to her.

“Is this historical fiction?” I ask, as she settles in under the covers.

“I think it’s—”

“Wait. Don’t tell me. I want to try to figure it out.”

“Of course. You like to be surprised.” She drags out the “i” in “surprised” to mock me.

I reach over and gently grab her breast and she gasps because my hands are a little cold. “See? You like being surprised too.”

She lightly smacks my hand. “All right. You’ve made your point. Can I have my breast back?”

“But it’s so warm. Can I hold on a little longer? I promise I’ll still listen.”

She rolls her eyes as she begins reading the first page. “In the light of my grandmother’s torchère, the one with the fringed lampshade, I wrote my first letter to my dead husband.” She stops and slowly closes the book. “Maybe I should read something else.”

“Why?”

She turns to me with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to read this.”

I let go of her breast and take the book from her hands. I lay it on my nightstand and by the time I turn back to her, she’s composed herself. My hand slides under the sheet, quickly finding her soft abdomen. I brush the backs of my fingers over her skin as I slide my hand to her waist.

Burying my face in her neck, I whisper against her skin. “You want to tell me another story?”

She arches her back a little, pressing her chest to mine. “What kind of story?”

I slide my knee between her thighs as she coils her arms around my shoulders. “Your story.”

She moans softly as I lightly dig my teeth into her neck. “My story is boring.”

I suck on her neck and she wraps her legs around my hips. “Then tell me our story. Tell me how long you’ve wanted me.” I slide my hand behind her knee and lift her leg so my erection is pressed against her throbbing pussy, but I don’t enter her. “Then tell me how our story ends.”

She squeezes her thighs together to tighten them around my hips and I gasp as my cock slides about an inch inside her. She grabs my face so she can look at me as I sink in slowly. Her eyelids flutter with ecstasy until I hit her cervix and she lets out a tiny gasp.

“Talk to me,” I whisper as I move slowly in and out of her.

She smiles as she gently rakes her fingernails down my back, then back up to my shoulders, sending shivers through me and making my cock twitch. “The first time I saw you… you were on your skateboard.”

I let out a soft chuckle, but she continues undaunted, as do I.

“You had your hat on backwards and… I think you were fourteen and you were already almost six feet tall. It was August and you were all sweaty.”

I lift her left leg a bit higher so I can dig deeper. “You like it when I’m all sweaty?”

“Yes,” she moans. “Yes… but I didn’t realize I was in love with you until I was fifteen.”

“Four… years… later?” I time my words with my thrusts and this makes her smile. “Why… so… long?”

She lets out a long sigh as I reach between her legs and massage her clit. “Because that’s when I started touching myself.”

“And you’d think of me?”

Her pussy clenches around my erection as I move my finger in slow circles around her swollen bud. She closes her eyes and tosses her head backward, exposing the graceful arch of her neck. The sensation of her muscles spasming around my dick is getting me too excited, so I pull out of her and her eyes flash open.

“Keep talking, baby,” I urge her as I lay a hot trail of kisses down her neck all the way to her breasts.

She whimpers as I take her nipple into my mouth and suck gently. “That was when you went away to college… I thought of you all the time and… I think I was touching myself at least once a day.”

I tease her nipple with my tongue, smiling when she writhes a bit. “Is it wrong I find it hot you were fantasizing about me at that age?”

“Well, technically, you were eighteen and I was fifteen… so you would have been taking advantage of me if we actually did all the things I imagined we were doing.”

My cock becomes painfully engorged at this comment. “Well, you’re eighteen now, so tell me… what did you imagine us doing?”

I slide down and lay a soft kiss on her abdomen, then my head is between her legs. One of my favorite things about Rory is that she lets me shave her in the shower. Probably because she knows I’ll make her come when I’m done. But nonetheless, it’s one of my favorite parts of showering with her.

She draws in a sharp breath as I use my fingers to part her swollen lips, then I take her perfect clit into my mouth. “Oh, God, Houston.”

“Keep talking or I’m gonna stop.”

She laughs, but she quickly resumes her story. “This. This is what I used to imagine. And… I was a virgin, but I used to imagine you being my first.”

“I was your first,” I mutter, then I go back to licking her.

She threads her fingers through my hair, holding on for dear life as her legs begin to quiver. “I know… and it was way better than I imagined it would be.”

I softly lick her up and down right at the one o’clock position on her clit and, as usual, she comes within seconds. I continue stimulating her, relishing the sound of her moans, until she grabs chunks of my hair and pulls me up.

I mash my lips to hers as I slide into her. I try to move slowly, but she grinds her hips into me, urging me on.

I pull back so I can look her in the eye. “Slow down, baby. The story’s not over yet.”

She smiles and pulls my mouth to hers again. Her kiss is hot and hungry, making it difficult for me to slow my pace, but I’m determined to make this last. I lift her leg again so she can watch my cock dipping in and out of her as I pierce her slowly and methodically.

Finally, she continues. “You know what comes after our first time together… What else do you want me to say?”

I pull out of her as my arms begin to shake. “Holy fuck. I’m getting so close to blowing my load. Give me a second.”

“Holy fuck. I’m getting so close to blowing my load. Give me a second,” she says, repeating my words back to me as if this is what I wanted her to say.

I laugh at her attempt to inject humor into the situation, but it’s not helping as my dick keeps twitching with an impending orgasm. “Don’t move,” I whisper, then I take a deep breath as I wait for the sensation to pass.

“Okay, I’ll just keep talking. You wanted to know how our story ends?”

I look up at her and she smiles as I very slowly ease my cock back inside her. “How does it end?”

She gazes into my eyes for a moment before she responds. “It doesn’t have to end, does it?”

Unable to hold back any longer, I press my lips together to keep from grunting as I come inside her. Then I think of how our relationship began and how I’ve always known that it’s going to end.

I lay a soft kiss on the corner of her lips. “I hope it never ends.”