Chapter Seventeen - Tyler & Maddie
TYLER
I stumble in through the door, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her along with me as I kiss and bite, licking along her long, arching neck.
“You just move in?” she asks. She is, I’m assuming, making a commentary on the… Spartan… way I have the apartment furnished. But I’m not real keen on having a conversation about home decorating just now.
“Shut up,” I say, as I reach behind her to push the door closed, pulling my hand back to her as quickly as I can so that I don’t have to be apart from her body any longer than necessary. I lift up the back of her little dress thing, slap both hands on her ass, nearly coming in my pants when she squeals, and pull her to me tightly as I keep walking her backwards into the main room.
The vampire in me is out again in full force, biting her bottom lip as I kiss her, almost pulling her along with my teeth just as much as I am with the rest of my body. She rips her mouth free from mine and I draw a little blood as she goes. She pauses for a nanosecond to touch her lip. She smiles when she sees the red on her fingertip, places her finger in her mouth, sucks the blood off and grabs my dick, hard, hammering us backwards into the glass of the windows.
She’s the one who’s biting now. Biting my neck. Biting my chin. She bites my cheek.
“Ah! Fuck!” I exclaim. Not in discomfort. Not in pain. In joy. In exultation. In affirmation. In relief. Because we are fire. We are combustion. We are the raging inferno of purifying flame that will singe away all our pain and leave us barren and ready to begin again. In the punishing passion that we share, we can torture away whatever nightmares plague us and both wake born anew.
We are each other’s suicide.
She smiles and slaps my cheek where she just bit me, and I smile back. She grabs my shirt with both hands and rips it open. Buttons pop and fly off, skittering across the floor.
“This is like my only button-down shirt,” I note.
“Shut the fuck up,” she says with a shake of her head. Her head that I am now seeing the top of as she begins licking my scars. She’s tracing each line. Each crevice. Each mutilated and broken ridge of my marred flesh. The whole time she’s reaching inside the zipper of my jeans to work my cock with her strong, delicate fingers.
She’s still wearing the wings and the halo, and if the view from here is the last one I ever see, I’ll feel like a lucky son-of-a-bitch for the first time in my life.
She’s tracing the one, long scar—the one that runs vertically down my stomach to just right above my cock—with her tongue. When she gets to where the button of my jeans is still snapped shut, she wraps her mouth around it and—and I swear to fuck, I don’t know how; I’ve never seen a woman do this before—pops it open. David Copperfield isn’t the only magician on the Strip tonight.
She pulls down my pants (or rips down is more accurate) to my ankles, glances up at me with those green, green eyes, and then wraps her gorgeous mouth around my cock. My head throws itself back, slamming against the glass, and I am reminded that we are exposed to the city below in the glaring light of my apartment as it bounces off the steel and wood and glass, leaving us vulnerable to gawking eyes if they so choose to notice us, and I get even harder. I recognize now that I want people to see. I want them to be made uncomfortable at the sight of my happiness. Because fuck them all.
She’s twisting her head and neck at the same time she slides her mouth back and forth on my hard cock, causing it to bend and throb and tense and ache. I want to fuck her so bad I can’t understand it. I reach down to touch her head so that I can help her. Not that she needs it. But I want to guide her as she swallows the whole of my shaft. I want to fist her hair and demand she do what I want even though she already wants it herself.
And as I extend my hand, I remember that she’s still wearing a wig. And I realize that I’ve never seen her hair. I’ve never seen who is really underneath the halo. And the suspense has me hyperventilating. So I first pull the halo off, tossing it to the side, as she continues to stroke me with her tongue.
“Fuck, angel, please. Slow down. I don’t want to come before I’ve split you open.”
I can feel her smile spread around my tip as she pulls back slightly to tickle the edge of my dick with her tongue. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
And now I grab the wig the same way she grabbed at my shirt, but I don’t rip it away. I slide it carefully off the back of her head so I don’t hurt her.
And… I see red.
A bottled sea of red roiling on top of her head as the artifice is slowly stripped away. And suddenly all I can see is the wash of flaming red bobbing back and forth while she drives me insane.
I was right.
It is her.
She really is MY angel.
From MY DREAM.
Oh, my God.
It’s her.
She’s real.
MADDIE
My fingernails dig into the flesh of his legs and he goes still. For a moment I think this is it. He’s gonna fist my hair, push my head into his groin until his balls are pressing against my chin, and come down my throat.
And even though I’ve convinced myself that I’m not the kind of girl who does that for men I don’t know, I am. For him. Just him. Only him. All the time. Whenever he wants. Whatever he wants. I want to be his dirty little slut.
When I realize none of that is happening I tip my head up and stare at his wide eyes. Pull back and let his cock fall from my mouth. “What?”
His fingers go to my hair and he starts opening the clips that kept it tucked up inside my wig. Long strands of fire-red tresses fall against my cheeks. And then the whole thing comes apart as he slides the hair band off and it turns into an unruly mess of flames that falls down my shoulders like a river of lava.
“It’s you,” he says.
“Yeah,” I say back. “It’s me. The devil in disguise.”
I grab his cock, squeezing hard but pumping slow as I kiss his tip and swipe my tongue around his head until he squints his eyes. Like he wants to close them so badly and go back to the desperate sex we were about to have.
But he can’t.
He bends down instead, his back sliding against the window, both hands firmly on my cheeks until he’s boxing me in with his knees, and we’re eye to eye, and his intense gaze feels like he’s staring into my filthy fucking soul, and he says, “I know you.”
And for a moment, I wanna say, You know absolutely nothing about me. But then I realize he knows the only thing that matters. Tonight… I’m his. So I say, “Wanna know me better?”
He nods his head. Whispers, “Yeah. Tell me.”
Which makes me laugh. “OK,” I say, playing along. “I want you to stand back up and let me suck your cock. I want your hands fisting my hair as you push yourself deeper down my throat.” My words are spilling out. Like I can’t stop. Like I need to get all this out and tell him what I want. Make him understand how bad things are and what I need to make it better. “I want you to fill me up until I choke on it. And then I want you to come down my throat and feel satisfied and yet unsatisfied at the same time. Like you can’t ever get enough. Because after that, I want—”
“What?” he says, blinking at me. Like he’s confused. Which is kinda cute. That I can render a guy like him speechless with dirty talk.
“Just fuck my face, Ford.”
“My name’s not Ford,” he says.
“I know,” I say back. “And I’m not Scarlett. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve got your cock in my hand when it really needs to be in my mouth.”
His palms are still pressed against my cheeks when he leans in and kisses me. But it’s not hard and desperate the way it was before. It’s…
“I’m not gonna do it,” he whispers into my mouth.
“What? Not gonna do what?”
He kisses me again and this time it’s definitely not urgent. It’s soft. Tender, almost. The way a man kisses his wife. Like… like he loves me or something.
I pull back because now I’m the one who’s confused.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says, shaking his head to enunciate his declaration. “I’m not gonna let it all blow up. I’m gonna fix it, Scarlett. I swear. I’m gonna do it right this time. I’m gonna save you, and me, and it’s all gonna be OK.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask because… because it feels like… he knows me. And he can’t know me. He has no idea what’s happening to me tonight. How much I need him. How much I need this just to get through to tomorrow. To stop the countdown to catastrophe and begin fresh again.
“Tomorrow,” he says, eyes sad and watery, still holding my face carefully in his hands. “When we wake up. It’s gonna be OK. I promise.”
Now it’s my turn to blink back at him. “How do you know that?”
“Because I’m not gonna fuck it all up this time. I’m gonna do it right.”
I know we’re not talking about the same thing. I get it. But I don’t care. Because he’s telling me everything I need to hear tonight. He is everything I need tonight. Like… salvation. He’s my fucking salvation.
He slowly begins to rise, his belt buckle jingling like a bell that rings in my head as his hands leave my face. I grab at them, desperate to keep the connection. But he just stands up and leans back against the glass. They slip away, leaving a rush of cold air where his skin was touching mine. Making me crave him in a way that makes no sense as I grab his thighs and dig my nails in, but since when does anything make sense anymore?
He smiles then. A smile as soft as his kiss was a few moments ago. “What are you waiting for?” he asks.
I’m struck dumb and silent. And like he knows this… like he knows I need his help… his fingers twine into my hair, twisting it slowly as he looks down at me. Gazes down at me like a god in the sky, bestowing grace and forgiveness on my sins. And he says, “Don’t get shy. I need you as much as you need me.”
He reaches for my hands, prying my fingers from their death grip on his thighs, and places them back around his cock. Like that’s exactly where they need to be.
I squeeze him and watch, fascinated at the scene playing out before me, as his eyes close and he sighs. Like we’ve already reached the pinnacle of perfection together.
Both of his hands find their way to my fire-red hair and he guides my face towards him. I open my mouth and let him put himself inside me. My lips seal around his shaft, my tongue flat as he forces himself into my throat until he’s so deep inside me, I gag. He holds me there just the way I told him to. Choking me with his cock. His hands firmly on the back of my head. Like he might never let me take another breath of air again.
“Look at me,” he says.
I raise my eyes to his because I have no choice but to obey. He smiles as he begins to pull out. My hands grab at his legs, not wanting him to leave me empty. But just when I think his cock might slip out, he thrusts his hips forward, grabs the back of my neck, and pounds himself back into the heat of my throat.
I cough, saliva dripping out over my lips and onto my chin as he palms my throat to feel the bulge of himself deep inside me, and then does it all again.
Our eyes are locked together as I let him fuck my face just the way I asked him to. I’m gagging and choking and he’s moaning and grunting until… he stops and all I hear is the sound of myself. Sucking in air through my nose.
I close my eyes when he comes. I swallow him, which sets him off again and he pumps his cock in and out of my mouth so fast, semen and saliva spill down the front of my little white negligee, staining it with our sins.
He lets go of my head, bending down so we’re eye to eye. He kisses me softly, dropping to his knees and leaning forward until I have to give in and lie back.
I watch everything as he does this.
The grin on his face. Filled with satisfaction that isn’t satisfied. The lust in his eyes that are begging me to beg him for more. And like we’re reading each other’s minds, I open my legs as he rips open my negligee and lowers his face to my stomach.
“Allow me,” he says.
TYLER
Underneath the pure and white that I tear from her body, she’s wearing a bra and panties that are both fire-engine red. As red as her hair. As red as the blood that remains tipped on her lips.
All that redness against her creamy white skin makes me think of a painting. Botticelli. She is the living incarnation of The Birth of Venus. But here on the floor of my apartment, she is still an incomplete work. I haven’t yet laid my finishing touches on the canvas of her body. But I’m about to.
“You really are the fucking devil in disguise,” I say. She smiles and licks her lips.
I pull my shirt off and toss it away, kicking off both boots and stripping my jeans from my legs. I nuzzle my face into the sweet, open space between her legs, allowing my nose to brush across her clit through the thin fabric that barely covers her. She whines in approval.
I pull back and stand up straight, scarred and erect, towering above her. I take note for a brief moment that usually after I come as hard as I just did, my dick loses a little of its enthusiasm. But looking at the fucking gift that’s been delivered unto me is keeping me as hard as a goddamn fourteen-year-old. She wriggles on the grey wood floor, staring up at me, watching me stroke my cock while I stare back.
“What do you want?” she asks. “What do you want me to do?”
And I go insane.
I throw myself to the floor, the cold wood pushing against my hot, throbbing cock, and I yank off the cloth that covers her beautiful mound of bare skin. I bury my face there, driving my tongue inside her, reaching up with my hands to pry her thighs apart even further, keeping her spread as wide as I can. Making sure I keep the entrance to paradise open. The flicking of my tongue between the folds of her smoldering, wet pussy reminds me of a snake. And I realize I am. She is Eve, but I am not Adam. I am the serpent wrenching her out of Eden. And together, we are original sin.
I’ve got my face embedded so deeply into her sticky wetness that I can barely breathe. And suddenly I decide that I don’t want to breathe. I want to be smothered inside her. So I place my palms on the floor beside her thighs, pull my knees underneath me, grab her by the hips and then, without ever allowing my mouth to drift from her impossibly perfect pussy, I stand, elevating her to the point where she can almost touch the ceiling—glancing at our reflection in the windows for a split second with the lights of Vegas twinkling on the other side, and being struck by how you can’t tell where she ends and I begin—and then I lower us to the ground, legs thrust out in front of me, and her in a perfect split, sitting fully on my face. I yank her thighs down toward me further and she gasps.
“Shit! Your beard fuckin’ tickles!” she squeals.
“You shaved, I didn’t, get over it,” I mumble out. I doubt she can even hear me that well with me eating her out like she is my last meal, but fuck it.
I keep sucking at her clit, biting a little too, and she begins to spasm, her stomach contracting and releasing as her body jerks involuntarily.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you,” she moans. God, I love it when she tells me to fuck myself. I do. And she’s flailing her arms behind her now, reaching for my hard dick. But I need her to stop moving just a little so that I can keep going and also so that she doesn’t crush my fucking head.
I grab both her wrists, pinning them behind her back, and then I reach behind her ass to steady her from rocking and heaving quite so much. And just to make sure I have a firm grip, I let my two middle fingers slide into her asshole.
She makes a sound that I can’t identify. A guttural, desperate, animal sound. And I drive my fingers a little deeper as my tongue does its frantic dance in and around her glistening skin that’s now dripping all over my beard. She’s trying to pull her arms free, but I have her cuffed and she’s not going anywhere I don’t want her to. She is exactly where she’s supposed to be.
As I bite and suck and lick and tease and finger and tighten my grip she begins mewing, begging me to let her free. But there’s no fucking way. I keep going, harder, faster, and I can feel the pressure building inside her like a soda bottle all shaken up, with my thumb on the opening.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she cries out. And I push deeper, tongue her faster, grip harder.
And then her thighs come crashing against both sides of my skull. She begins bouncing against my mouth, trying to get away, but I just hold on firmer, never stopping the unmerciful torment that my mouth is giving her. Since she can’t get free like her body is demanding of her, she collapses forward in beautiful agony. And finally, I let her wrists go and allow her to fall to the floor, the gulping gasps of her breath making her pussy writhe and twist against my lips.
I gently remove my other hand from her ass, place both palms against her hips, and begin sliding her off my mouth and down. She giggles as the lips of her pussy graze along my beard, and she stops making any sounds when her thighs edge along the rippled flesh of my chest. I keep pushing her downward until my cock is resting against the entrance of her pussy and we are face to face. Red hair spilling around my eyes. And I am struck by how very much it feels like I know her. Like I have known her from well before now. Like I have known her since time immemorial.
I reach around and unfasten her firehouse-red bra which is that last bit of clothing that separates her bare skin from mine, lift her to the side, placing her on her knees, and I rise to my knees as well and I stare at her, wordlessly.
“What?” she asks.
I don’t answer. Just keep staring.
“No. Seriously, what?”
“I dreamed of you,” I tell her.
She arches up enough to make sure we can see each other clearly. “Yeah?”
I nod.
“What did you dream?”
I pause, trying to decide what’s the appropriate information to share. Should I tell her that in my dream, she works in a Heaven that looks like an Apple Store? Should I tell her that I incinerate her and all that is around her? Should I tell her that she makes a really good cup of tea? None of these tidbits seem like information that will do either one of us any good to have spat out into the world, so instead I grab her around the waist, pull her to me, kiss her hard on her still-bleeding mouth, and say, “This…”
Then I lay her on her back, plank my body above hers, holding there for just long enough to see the gleam in her eye, and then I drive myself down and into her before the flames of our impending destruction can rise up and make me stop.
MADDIE
“Oh, shit!” I cry out.
He is not just entering me, or fucking me, or anything as common as that. He is penetrating me. In every sense of the word. I have never in my life—not once—cried during sex, but I can feel the tears starting to well up behind my eyes. And I have no earthly idea why.
He must be able to tell because he asks, “Am I hurting you?”
I shake my head, willing the tears not to fall. He withdraws from inside me.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He stands up—he is an impressive sight. He looks like Michelangelo’s David. But if David had fought his way through some kind of battle and emerged from it painted by the fury of the fight.
“Come here,” he says as he reaches for my hand and draws me up to stand with him. Naked and exposed, we both look at each other in the warm light of this nearly empty apartment, with the frivolous concerns of the rest of the world carrying on beyond his massive windows, unaware that we are here. And I feel vulnerable.
I think he feels it too because now he takes me by the hand and leads me over to the kitchen area, which is a little darker, a little more hidden. When we land there, he picks me up around the waist and plops me onto his kitchen island. “Ah! It’s cold,” I let out.
“It’ll warm up in a second,” he says and winks. He opens a drawer and I glance down to note that inside there are only restaurant menus, some extra chopsticks still in their paper wrappers, and an assortment of condoms.
“We ordering in?” I ask. He ignores me and rips open the wrapper on one of the condoms.
“I want to be inside you when I come. Not that coming on your ass wasn’t one of life’s great joys, but, y’know, been there, done that.” He winks again. Fuck, he’s hot. Scraggly beard and all. Although I’m suddenly trying to imagine what it’d be like if he shaved. What the face that’s hiding under that mess of hair might look like.
But instead, I follow up my previous question with, “And you keep them in the kitchen because…?”
“I keep ’em everywhere,” he says, unrolling the latex and sliding it on his still-hard cock. “Never know when the delivery boy might be up for a little somethin’-somethin’.”
I rub my foot up the inside of his thigh. “Mmm. It gets a girl so hot when guys talk about fucking delivery boys.” He smiles. I get the sense that he gets off on it when I talk shit to him. Which is fine by me, because I love talking shit. So…
“Now fuck me like I’m the pizza guy,” I say.
He laughs and pulls me close into him at the same time. He grabs two fistfuls of hair and I gasp. He kisses me hard, his tongue competing with mine. He slides it across my teeth and then he pulls it out and traces the contours of my lips. Then he nibbles at my chin. It’s so fucking hot and sweet, my pussy starts throbbing remembering how it felt to have that same tongue inside of it just moments ago.
He eyes my legs. “What are you looking at?” I ask.
“You’re tall,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“That’s good,” he says. “Here.” He stands between my thighs, grips the outside of my hips, and slides me to the edge of the island where I’m sitting. “Stick your legs out,” he demands.
I see what he wants now. So I do it. I extend my calves outward until the soles of my feet are on the edge of the counter behind him. And then I place my palms on the island under me and lift my ass so that I am suspended there, my pussy at the perfect height in midair for him to reach. He puts his hands under me for additional support, to aid me in fucking him like we’re both dying for.
“Don’t let me fall,” I say.
“No chance,” he says in return.
Hands on my ass, me strung across the chasm between the two surfaces on which I’m balancing, he stares hard into my eyes and draws himself inside, never breaking eye contact, staring through me, lifting and pressing himself deeper and deeper until I think there’s no way I could possibly take any more of him in. And then… he pushes one last inch.
“Oh, my fuck,” I gasp.
“Fuck, yeah,” he groans out.
And I throw my head back, half laughing, half trying to catch my breath, as he begins the slow, methodical pulling and pushing of himself in and out. I begin rocking with my arms and legs to counter the way he’s stroking the walls of my pussy. In and out. In and out. In. And out.
We begin picking up momentum, him pulling harder each time we close the space between us. In the wash of the blinking lights spilling through the windows from the outside, I can see the veins in his strong forearms tensing and bulging as he muscles his way inside me over and over. He stands on his toes and bends his knees slightly so that he can angle just right to hit my clit with his pelvis as he drives himself forward.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I let out. Because this son of a bitch is going to make me come again. Again.
“You got that right,” he moans out as he keeps pounding into me.
Every. Single. Push. He. Makes. Feels. Like. It’s. Going. To. Make. Me—
“FUUUUUUUCK!” I scream. And I’m glad this is the only apartment on this floor, because there’s no way someone wouldn’t call the cops if they heard it.
I throw my head back completely, driving my body upwards as I do, forcing him to extend his legs straight up and stand on his tiptoes to keep me from pretty much ripping his dick off inside me as my walls tighten around his shaft. Which would be fine with me. I want to keep it all to myself. But I’m sure he wants to hang onto it too.
“Easy there, angel. Easy,” he says, as he wraps his palms around my hips to force me back down to where I’m level with his waist. I lift my head back up to see his face. He’s smiling. For the first time, I notice the little wrinkles around the corners of his eyes when he smiles. It makes some guys look old when they get those lines, but he looks more boyish somehow. Like a kid laughing at his favorite cartoon. Something about him is so—
“What?” he asks, and I realize I must have been staring too long.
“Nothing,” I say, and I pull my legs away from the counter now, to wrap around him and draw him to me. I throw my arms around his neck and lift myself so that I’m staring down into his eyes, and still riding his cock.
“Turn around,” I command.
“OK.” He complies.
“Sit,” I say. He lifts himself and places both of us on the island where I was sitting before.
“OK,” he says. “And…?”
“And now I’m gonna ride you until you fucking come inside me.”
“OK.” He smiles.
I put my hands on his shoulders and start sliding back and forth on his lap, bending and massaging his dick with the grip of my pussy and thighs.
“Fuck,” he exhales. “Y’know…” he starts.
“What?” I look at him and ask.
He gets another wry little smile and says, “You’re much better at this than the pizza boy.”
TYLER
Her body fits mine perfectly. And I don’t just mean the way her legs are long and her torso hits me in the right place and all that usual bullshit. I mean even the way her breasts blend into the uneven rivers of memory on my chest. Somehow they just fill in the empty spaces and make it all whole.
And she wraps around my cock like she was built to live there. Maybe she was. I’m considering not letting her leave.
My legs are dangling over the edge of the island, but my toes can just touch the floor. So I’m allowing them to help me push up and into her as she glides back and forth, sliding my shaft along with her slow grind.
“Lie back,” she tells me.
I do. I lower my back onto the countertop and stare up at her in all her fiery luminescence as she rides my dick, her shallow panting punctuated by the licking of her pouting lips. She is everything.
She leans back, hands just above my knees, and pushes herself up and then down, forward and then back, sometimes wiggling her hips in little circles, sometimes not. It feels like I’m being fucked, blown, massaged, tickled, drugged, and fed strawberry ice cream all at the same time.
“You gonna come for me?” she asks.
“I think I can make that happen,” I barely moan out as I’m starting to lose the ability to make thoughts into words.
And now she begins to lift her body up and down, bouncing on my dick slightly as she goes back and forth. Stroking my shaft and bending it all at once, and I automatically start thrusting up to meet her on every return she makes toward me. And seamlessly, progressively, our thrusts get faster. She’s punishing my cock and I’m trying as hard as I can to tear through the ceiling and launch us out into the night sky so we can touch the stars.
She’s panting, she’s moaning, she’s squealing, and every sound that leaves her perfect, precious body just makes me fuck her that much harder.
Her red ringlets are bouncing up and down, her perfect, beautiful tits are bouncing with them. She has her hands on my chest now, giving me the sexiest CPR in history. I prop myself on my elbows so that I can get my hips up and dig into her as deeply as possible. Her eyes are closed as she bounces and wiggles and grinds.
I suddenly remember a Yogi I met when I was in India. He tried to tell me about Tantric sex but I kind of blew it off. I’m regretting that now. Big time. Because I don’t want to come yet. I don’t. I want to stay in this moment for as long as possible.
But unfortunately, I’m not a Tantric Yogi, I’m just a fucking dumb, broken, marred, undeserving, and—at the moment—very lucky SOB who’s with a woman he’s been dreaming about. Literally. And I can’t hold out another second more.
“Fuck, angel, I’m gonna come,” I manage to say.
“Yeah, yes, do it. Fill me up. Fucking fill me up. I need to be filled. Please.”
And just like before, it’s the ‘please’ that does me in. And with one last push, I unload inside her. My stomach tightens and I sit up straight, grabbing her behind the back and locking my mouth to hers. Her legs wrap tighter behind me, pulling us closer and closer together and pushing her hips down so that she can take as much of me in as is humanly possible.
I keep thrusting and I feel the inside of the condom filling with come. And I just keep coming. And as I shout out one last “Fuck,” the final bit of sticky heat shoots out of me. I’m gasping for breath. So is she. We are both completely spent and drained and lost inside the other. I touch my forehead to hers and go to kiss her, kind of catching her on the nose by accident. She giggles.
I lean back, resting on my elbows, my legs dangling over the sides of my kitchen island (which is currently being put to the best use it’s seen since I bought the place) and just… look at her. Her hair is a mess and it’s beautiful. The cut on her lip where I bit her before has stopped bleeding, but the little nick remains. And it’s beautiful. The creamy whiteness of her skin is blotched red from the workout she just had. And it’s beautiful.
She’s fucking beautiful.
She starts gnawing at her bottom lip, a gleam in her eye and a smile creeping up.
“What?” I ask.
She doesn’t say anything. Just keeps smiling.
“What?” I laugh out a little bit.
She pulls her legs back so that she can bend over fully, she leans down close to my face so that our lips almost touch, she lets out a tiny breath, and she says…
“So. Did you come?”