“I look ridiculous!” Dusty shouts from the other side of the bathroom door.

After one last look at my reflection, I swing it open to see him tugging at the collar of his white dress shirt. “Stop that.”

He continues pulling at it. “Haven’t worn a suit since my brother’s weddin’ five years ago.”

A soft smile expands across my lips as I approach him. “You look handsome, but if you stretch your collar out you’re gonna look like you’ve had weight loss surgery on just your neck.”

“People don’t do that.”

My head tilts to one side.

“Do they really?”

“People do all sorts of crazy things, especially when they think they’re in love.”

Like contemplate giving up their high paying job to move across the country to be with the man they can’t live without. At least twice a week since we saw each other in Dalvegan almost two months ago. Initially, I thought popping by and being together for a few hours would ease some of the agony of being apart. I was completely wrong. It somehow managed to magnify the pain exponentially. What terrifies me is how it broke me to have to walk away from him after less than twenty four hours together. How can I expect myself to just let him go after spending an entire weekend wrapped up in each other?

I push away the unpleasant thoughts. “So, how do I look?”

Dusty’s eyes drink in my attire. His green gaze caresses the sleeveless black lace top before dropping down to the fluffy bright red skirt underneath. He glares at the tiny line of midriff, but his tongue snakes across his bottom lip giving me a clear indication to which thoughts are actually winning.

He clears his throat. “You look like I am gonna spend most of the night losin’ my damn mind whenever you’re not in sight.”

A small snicker escapes at the same time I reach for his hand. “Then I guess you better not lose sight of me.”

“Damn sure don’t plan on it,” he states and slips a soft kiss onto my lips.

Our tongues briefly touch knowing the consequences of an over extended meeting.

I pull us apart, reach for my clutch off of my queen sized bed, and sigh, “We should get going before we’re late.”

“You’re the birthday girl. You’re allowed to be late.”

Another smile crosses my face. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I should.”

The two of us promptly exit my apartment hand in hand.

Dusty’s very uncomfortable in my living space. Between the oddly shaped furniture pieces and my unusual choices in art décor, including a modernized abstract statue of Aphrodite, he has difficulty making himself at home. He tried to explain despite seeing it during our chats, it’s not anything he’s used to, but he’d do his absolute best to adjust. So far, the couch and my low to the ground bed he’s slightly too large for, are where he resides. Watching him stand next to the bar stools because he refused to sit in repurposed barber shop chairs had me laughing so hard I nearly choked on my breakfast this morning.

During our stroll towards the elevator at the end of the hall, I sweetly acknowledge, “Still can’t believe you did this. No one has ever thrown me a birthday party before. Well. As an adult.”

He flashes me a crooked smirk. “Glad I could be the first.”

This was almost a total surprise to me. Cordie accidentally let it slip about a week ago when she asked did I mind if she brought a date. It took me off guard in two completely different ways. One, Cordie rarely brings a date somewhere, mainly because she prefers to keep her options open and second, when Dusty agreed to come spend the weekend with me for my birthday, I was under the impression there would just be a copious amount of sex and a nice dinner. I had no idea he’d spent the last month planning a surprise party with Cordie and saving every last penny he had to make it possible.

The last thought has my mouth moving without my permission. “You’re sure I can’t pay you back for any of this? Not even like the food? I know your truck still needs two new tires and-”

“Thought we were done with that conversation, Carly.”

I frown at the way he says my name.

Never imagined a day would come where I wouldn’t enjoy the sound of my name coming out of the person I love’s mouth. Unfortunately, he usually only calls me Carly when we’re arguing or he’s scolding me. I guess it’s really no different than the way I call him Dustin when I’m upset.

The elevator doors ding open and my across the hall neighbor’s face is revealed. “Hey, Oliver.”

“Hey, Carly.” He gives me a wide smile.

My boyfriend’s audible grumble has me squeezing his hand at the same time I introduce him to the tall, dark, and handsome man. “Dustin this is my neighbor, Oliver Shaw. Oliver Shaw this is my boyfriend, Dustin Coleman. He’s visiting for the weekend.”

They shake hands and Oliver states, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Dusty replies.

Oliver stops the doors from closing, so we can slip on. “You two enjoy your night. I’ll make sure I uh…extend the same courtesy to you that you do to me when London’s home.”

I let a wicked smirk appear on my face. “Appreciate it.”

He starts his trek down the hall while Dusty and I wait for the doors to close. The instant they do, he snaps, “What the hell was that about?”

“Being friendly to my neighbor?”

“Flirtin’.”

“Oh, Dusty, we were far from flirting.”

His expression remains unconvinced.

My eyes unconsciously roll.

“Please don’t do that,” he says on a huff. “It’s really pisses me off.”

“Rolling my eyes?”

“Yeah. It’s rude and disrespectful. You may not like what I have to say or what I’m thinkin’, but that doesn’t mean you should treat it like it doesn’t matter.”

The twinge of hurt in his voice strikes me in the side. “I’m sorry, Dusty.”

He keeps his attention pinned on the doors.

“Oliver and I weren’t flirting. We never have in the entire time we’ve been neighbors. And most importantly, he’s a happily married man to a very adorable, very vocal woman.” Memories of having to turn my television up in order to not hear her crying out in pleasure cause me to grin again. “Unlike the people who live above them, I never complain about the noise they make when she’s home and the compensating they do for lost time.”

We’re granted access to the ground level and relief floods his expression. “That’s what he was implyin’?”

“Yes.” I glance up at him with another reassuring stare. “You can relax. Not every man I cross paths with wants to sleep with me.”

He mutters, “The majority do.”

The two of us take a left outside the building and continue towards one of my favorite local bars. Unlike Night Heat, the setting is much more casual and usually filled with a better mix of individuals. When I want to go out for a drink alone, but not necessarily drink alone, I know there’s always a spot for me at the bar of Urban Jungle.

As soon as we step inside, I’m greeted warmly by some of my favorite faces. Dusty drops his touch each time someone rushes up to greet me, but frequently relocates it to my hip the second they pull back. The entire area is packed with everyone from co-workers to friends I don’t see too often any more. There are chic style decorations that scream Cordie’s doing, waiters walking around with what appear to be crab cakes, and lively music pumping through the speakers.

After Chantel, an old friend from college, walks off to order a drink from the bar, I look up at Dusty and coo, “This is incredible.”

He offers me a shy grin. “You sure you like it? I merely picked the place and paid for everything. Cordie did all the,” his hand motions to centerpieces on the tables, “you know. Girly stuff.”

I can’t stop myself from chuckling. “I love it. All of it. And you.”

His smile brightens, and he leans down towards me. “I love you, too.”

Seconds before our lips have a chance to touch, Cordie shrieks, “Birthday girl!”

Dusty grunts at the interrupted opportunity, but I hide my disappointment of our missed kiss a little better.

Cordie tosses her arms around me and we hug tightly. When she pulls away, she verbally pats herself on the back. “It’s amazing, right? Like everything. Your favorite flowers in the vases. Your fave app on the trays. Balloons, because I know how adorable you think they are, even when they’re a bitch to get down. Oh! And the DJ has been informed to keep the mix an actual mix. Not too heavy of any one type.”

“You two did good,” I compliment.

“We did, didn’t we?” She winks at Dusty. “Come on! You two have to meet my date!”

Cordie drags me by the hand with my boyfriend on my heels. She leads us to the back corner of the bar where Audrey is laughing with two men at a high top table. Her giggles are stopped the moment I’m in sight.

“Carly!” She hops onto her feet and races to me. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks!” I say during our hug.

Her attention snaps up to Dusty. “Good to see you!”

He politely nods. “Good to see you, too.”

The man Audrey was sitting beside clears his throat.

My best friend softly smiles. “Carly, Dustin, this is Dylan, the guy I’ve been seeing.”

Dating and didn’t tell me? Talk about uncharacteristic behavior….Then again, didn’t I act a little crazy when I started dating Dusty?

“Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand to shake and my boyfriend follows suit.

From Audrey’s lit up expression to the way she nervously keeps toying with her hair, I silently let it register what a big deal it is for us to meet him.

Once we’ve properly greeted each other, he offers birthday wishes though they’re cut off by Cordie’s squeaking.

“And this is the guy I’ve been dating. Thomas Flanders.”

The thrill piercing her wide eyes is a mixture of pride and lust.

“He’s a photographer for Global Laundry.”

We engage in another round of introductions before taking a seat at the table.

Both men are dressed in high dollar suits, with clean shaven faces and drinking martinis. Mentally, I make another comparison note that is too close to working to be considered just friendly observation.

It’s my fucking birthday! Why won’t my damn brain shut down that part?

The waiter comes by to grab our drink requests, and Cordie begins to order another round for all of us when I interrupt.

“Actually we’ll have a beer,” I casually insist. “Runt’s.”

“Beer?!” Cordie gags, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s your birthday and we’ve sort of got a classy theme going. How about you play along? Maybe champagne? Oh! Let’s do champagne.”

My head promptly shakes. “My birthday. My choices. Me and my boyfriend would like Runt’s.”

“Can you at least put it in something to make it look fancy?” Cordie whines.

The waiter lightly chuckles. “I’ll uh…see what I can do.”

After he disappears, Dusty looks down at me. “Isn’t Runt’s the beer they served at Cooper’s Concert?”

I quickly nod. “It’s actually a local beer that’s just recently branching out.”

“Explains why I can’t find it in Texas.”

“You’ll just have to move here, so you can enjoy it all the time.”

His hand slides around my lower back. “Tryin’ to tempt me, baby?”

“Maybe….”

“You bein’ here is reason enough. Believe me.”

“Where are you from?” Thomas invades our conversation. “That’s quite the accent.”

“Brestum,” my boyfriend answers with pride. “Right outside Dalvegan, Texas.”

“And you met through work?” Dylan questions.

“Vacation,” we answer in unison.

“What about all of you?” I turn the interrogation onto my friends, who have been apparently keeping secrets. “How did both of you meet guys, and why I am just now hearing about it?”

Cordie volunteers to spew first. She describes how they met fighting over a taxi and how she didn’t want to giveaway details since its still such a new thing. Audrey explains how her and Dylan were introduced at a conference, and her silence on the situation proves she’s unsure of their “label”. From the domineering body language both men are continuously presenting over their dates, it’s a safe bet to call them couples.

We drink, listen to both men describe their jobs, and eventually stumble onto their favorite things to do in the city. Our common love of art galleries and galas leads to Dusty needing another beer to hide his embarrassment over his lack of knowledge that occurred during the earlier part of our day.

“Your first art gallery?” Thomas’ voice is filled with bewilderment. “Ever?”

Dusty slowly nods. “It was um….It was definitely different than anything else I’ve experienced.”

“Where did you go?” Audrey asks kindly.

“We went to see the McCoy exhibit!”

“Oh my God, he’s a total genius,” Cordie gushes between sips. “The way he lets the spray paint drip down the canvas….” Her bottom lip momentarily vanishes out of sight. “You know what image he’s creating with that, right?”

I giggle at her sexual assumption.

“You know, I hear most of his inspiration is sparked by the beauty of his wife.” Thomas winks at his date.

“I believe it,” Dusty tries to stay an active part of the conversation. “Wonder if he uses red and yellow and orange ‘cause those are her favorite colors or if maybe he’s tryin’ to be like that one famous guy. Da Vinci.”

“Van Gogh,” Dylan corrects.

My boyfriend tries to hide his mistake with a smile. “That’s what I meant.”

“We also went and saw the Y exhibit,” I warmly continue to distract from his possible shame. “Those statues were….breathtaking.”

“So much rich culture in those,” Thomas practically swoons. “The way Y takes his Caribbean culture and blends it with his African ancestry is divine. Did you hear he’s actually being commissioned to create a piece for a princess?”

“What!” I gasp my surprise. “That’s wild!”

“You know what else is wild? Audrey and I got into a debate over Rembrandt the other night while we were at dinner. There was this special we watched the night before about the twenty greatest painters of all time and not only did she complain how high he was on the list, she complained about him being on it at all!” Dylan says on a playful laugh.

“What!” My voice grows another octave. “Audrey!”

Her face scrunches in shame. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

More laughter fills the table from everyone except Dusty. He offers a crooked smile, completely clueless on the subject nature, which prompts me to drop a comforting hand on his leg.

“I’ll explain to you why Audrey is wrong and who Rembrandt is one night over dinner. Maybe we can find the special they watched.”

“You don’t know who that is either?” Thomas scoffs.

“Seriously?” Cordie echoes.

Dusty gives a defeated shrug and sighs, “I need to use the restroom.” My mouth twitches to stop his cop out, but he ignores it. “Which way is it?”

“Opposite side. Far left corner,” Audrey swiftly answers.

He plants a peck on my cheek before he wanders away.

“Think we upset him?” The concern in Audrey’s voice constricts around my lungs.

“It wasn’t the intent,” Thomas claims, though I have my doubts about his statement.

He reminds me of an exact male version of Cordie. I always assumed someday she would indeed find and date her reflection….

“They’re just very different,” Cordie explains, lifting her glass to her lips again.

“Ever wonder if you’re too different?” Dylan quietly questions.

My eyes narrow at the guest.

“No offense,” he trips over himself to establish. “Opposites attract all the time! I was just wondering if…you know…this type of moment happens often between the two of you.”

“They don’t exactly spend much time together in public,” Cordie retorts for me.

Not because we don’t want to or because we can’t come to some sort of agreement about what to do or where to go. We’re a long distance couple, and that’s one of the harsh realities. These gatherings are few and far between, so neither of us really has to deal with the other feeling out of place. Truth is, when we’re alone, video chatting, there have been many times where I felt like an idiot. How was I supposed to know there is more than one type of catfish, especially when my parents refused to let us eat them growing up? Why the fuck would I know all dirt isn’t the same? That red dirt roads and old country back roads are indeed two different things, and the point of reference for each depends on the artist singing? I’ve had moments where I’m just as uncomfortable as he clearly is….I just haven’t had them on display yet.

A fun idea pops into my mind, and I hop down off my stool.

“Where are you going?” Audrey meekly asks. “Did we upset you, too?”

“Nah.” I brush her off with a toss of the hand. “I’m just gonna go dance. Mingle a little more with the other guests.”

Cordie pouts, but Thomas successfully stops her when he whispers something in her ear.

I saunter over to the DJ, put in a request, and head straight for the restrooms running into Dusty on his way out.

He forces a smile onto his face. “Swear, I was comin’ back, baby.”

My hand grabs his. “How about we take a break from all the art talk and do something a little more fun?”

His eyebrows lift in confusion.

I lead us towards an open area and immediately begin to wiggle off my black high heels.

Dusty’s voice drops to a lower level. “What on earth are you doin’?”

“I’m the birthday girl. I’m allowed to do weird and wild things.”

He tosses his hand into the air. “And what weird and wild thing are you about to do? Please, please tell me you’ll be keepin’ your clothes on. Me goin’ to jail tonight would not at all be how I saw this night endin’.”

A small snicker escapes while I scoot my shoes out of our way. With a finger point to the DJ, the song abruptly stops and switches to another.

Immediately, Dusty’s jaw hits the floor and he lets out a deep, loud laugh. “This is the wild thing you wanna do?”

“It’s wild because I’m barefoot.”

“You don’t think you could’ve kept your shoes on?”

“Uh…no. This isn’t Dancing With The Stars, Dusty.” He chuckles again and I demand, “Get over here, cowboy. It’s time to shake our boots off!”

My boyfriend’s smile reaches his ears as he joins me.

We start the beginning moves to the dance and I tease, “Think you can spin me in that suit.”

Dusty winks. “I can spin you in anything, baby.”

Our bodies get the point of execution and he doesn’t miss a beat despite the constriction I believed his attire would deliver. We sing along, though Dusty croons loudly at the top of his lungs, serenading me like I’m the only person in the entire room. Eventually, Audrey joins us, which prompts others to flock to the dance floor. Regardless of the increase in attention, Dusty never diverts his elsewhere. He kicks. He spins us. He pulls my favorite fancy trick of dipping me. He keeps the energy lively and loving.

So what if he never learns the difference between Da Vinci and Van Gogh? So what if he doesn’t understand the importance of African influence in some of my favorite modern artists? So what if he prefers beers to martinis and jeans to dress pants? He makes me feel cherished and adored. That’s what should matter. Everything else? Well, we’ll do what we always do. Figure out the steps and keep our dance going.

After the song ends, I insist on another upbeat Cooper Copeland song to keep the excitement going. The DJ has no issues complying. Audrey’s date decides to join her, while Cordie and Thomas choose to make out at the table. Dusty treats the change in song as an opportunity to teach me a new dance. His explanation of the steps is simple, but the actual actions of them are frustrating. However, instead of letting them discourage me, I continuously laugh, allow myself to look like an idiot, and try again.

He spent the afternoon and evening feeling this way. I don’t mind taking my turn….

Dusty shakes his head, still chuckling. “Let me just twirl you, baby. I’ll do the fancy footwork.”

“Twirling’s hard!”

“Didn’t you twirl around your room when you were a little girl?”

Art overhears the conversation and comments, “I did more twirling than she ever did.”

I give him a playful shove, which only makes Dusty laugh more.

“Follow my lead,” he commands at the same time he offers me his hand. “I’ll do the fancy steps. You jus’ worry ‘bout landin’ in my arms.”

Knowing it sounds easier than it’s done, I merely nod my compliance. He hooks his free arm around my waist and sways us around the dance floor. Periodically, he steps back, twirls me twice, and then smoothly pulls me back into him, making the entire thing look effortless. We continue switching styles each time the DJ switches songs, and the entire room seems to melt away.

By the time we’re overheated, out of breath, and very turned on, we’re being flagged down by my big brother, who is sitting at a table near the bar with his boyfriend.

We make our way to them after I slide my heels back on.

Dusty whispers in my ear, “Whenever you’re ready for me to take you home, baby, jus’ let me know. I’m ready to unwrap you like the gift you are.”

A soft moan slips out as my eyes meet his. “Soon. Very, very soon.”

We drop down into the empty chairs, and I’m immediately offered a huge slice of chocolate cake with strawberries on top.

Helplessly, I coo at Dusty, “You remembered my favorite.”

“There’s not a damn thing I don’t remember about you, baby.” He smiles brightly and grabs a fork. “But you are gonna share that cake. I’m starvin’.”

“Shoot, I would be too,” Dennis snickers and scoots closer to his boyfriend. His porcelain skin seems to glow in a beautiful contrast to my brother’s. “If I’d spent all night spinning Art around like a ballerina, I’m sure I’d be famished.”

Art casually shrugs. “But you didn’t, and you’re still trying to steal my cake.”

“God, you are the worst at sharing!” Dennis scolds.

“Must be a family thing,” Dusty sells me out between bites. He motions his head at me. “This one hates to do it, too. Or at least she does with food.”

“It’s my food,” I whine, which makes Art nod.

“Yeah. If you’re hungry, get your own,” my big brother agrees. “You have legs. They work. Use them to get up and grab your own serving rather than being lazy and picking from my plate.”

Dennis crosses his legs and leans back into his seat. “Weren’t you two taught to share with the people you love?”

The accusation has me and Art locking eyes.

Neither of us were taught what to do with the people you love so much as who was acceptable to love and who wasn’t. Both of us are committing cardinal sins in the eyes of our parents. However, they aren’t aware I am yet. Saving that little surprise for my birthday dinner tomorrow night. Dusty is hard not to love, but the idea of him alone would stop him from even being given the chance to be introduced. It’s a harsh reality to deal with. It’s hard enough having your family divided because your parents disowned their gay son at Christmas, nonetheless, but even harder when you know you’re going to have a “Guess Who” moment without the comedic reprieve the movie was fortunate enough to provide.

Art wipes his mouth and cautiously asks, “Are you um….Are you two going to Mom and Dad’s for dinner tomorrow?”

I slowly nod.

“Think they’ll like me as much as you do?” The amount of hope in Dusty’s voice is overwhelming.

He has no idea….How do you even tell your boyfriend, the man you really do see yourself marrying someday, that there’s a high probability the people who raised you are going to hate him simply for having a different shade of skin? Hate him for ancestral faults and racial entitlement he doesn’t possess.

My big brother sidesteps the question. “What gives you the impression I like you?”

His playful accusatory tone grabs a laugh from all of us.

Before the conversation can continue, two couples stop at our table, clearly ready to leave for the night.

“Hate to bail already,” Jaye Cox sighs, “but our babysitter gets a little mouthy if we’re home even five minutes late.”

Archer, her husband, links their fingers together. “She acts like she’s doing us a favor rather than a job we pay her for.”

“And we rarely go out like this,” Jaye adds, anger increasing, her brown-skinned complexion changing in color. “This is why I prefer to have my parents watch her.” She tilts her head at me apologetically. “Sorry, again, to have to go so soon.”

“It’s fine!” I insist, springing to my feet to hug them both. “Get home. Kiss Rainne for me.”

“We will,” she promises.

“We’re gonna head out too,” Presley Collins informs. “Totally having that parent separation anxiety thing.”

“Honestly surprised you made it this long,” Ryder pokes the situation. “Swore we weren’t even going to be able to leave the house.”

She gives him a stern stare.

From the anxious way her mocha fingers are wiggling and her foot has been tapping the floor, it’s easy to see she’s very uneasy about being away from her baby.

“Get home safe,” I encourage before hugging them goodbye as well.

Dusty politely waves while adding it was nice meeting everyone.

Both couples exit at the same time I settle back in my seat.

Dennis almost immediately states, “I want that to be us someday, Art.”

My brother tries to hide his anxiety.

Can’t blame him with the way the two of them are constantly making up and breaking up. They’ve been together more or less since that Christmas three years ago, but have a hard time dealing with their problems directly. They’ve made a nasty habit out of trying to drag others into the situation, which is actually how I ended up meeting Gabe, Presley’s brother who eventually introduced me to his sister and her husband. Our friendship, much like the one I have with Jaye, is more casual and occasional. We’re friends who became that way through those we associated with. However, they are both incredible women, and I’m thankful for the few moments we do get to enjoy together.

Dennis drops his hand onto Art’s thigh. “What about you two? Are you thinking about kids?”

“They’ve barely been dating,” Art grunts. “Fuck, they don’t even live in the same state yet. Of course they’re not thinking about kids.”

Dusty decides to answer on our behalf. “We’ll absolutely have a family someday. A big one. With lots of kids and the need for all their uncles to come spend lots of time with ‘em.”

Excitement appears in Dennis’ expression, yet Art is clearly less amused. “We’ll see if you feel that way after you meet our parents.”

My boyfriend uncomfortably shifts beside me. “You think they’re gonna have an issue with me?”

I swiftly say, “I think I’m ready to go home and enjoy what’s left of my birthday.”

Dusty’s eyes dart to mine, completely prepared to argue until he spots my tongue wetting my lips.

The change in his demeanor is immediate. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“Brat,” Art teases.

“She’s allowed on her birthday,” my boyfriend insists.

Parting from them only takes a couple more minutes, but making our way around to tell everyone else goodbye adds at least another half an hour. Thankfully, the walk back to my apartment is brisk and filled with salacious touches as opposed to more uncomfortable questions about my parents.

I’ve barely finished locking the door behind us when Dusty’s mouth drops to the crook of my neck. His tongue languorously drags itself up to my earlobe where it lingers while one hand locates to my nipple.

He gives it a small tug, yanking an eager moan out of me. “Been waitin’ all night to hear that sound again.” He repeats the action on the other side. “Damn sure don’t think we’re makin’ it to the bed, baby.”

I press my ass firmly against his hard cock. “Then take me to the couch.”

Dusty growls, swoops me into his arms, and marches us over to my gray L couch. He drops me onto the end and blankets my body with his. Our tongues frantically crash together and even more friction begins burning me from the inside out. I push at the jacket on his shoulders, anxious to shred the clothing constraints. He breaks our kiss to exile it and rip the shirt off his torso. Sounds of buttons bouncing across my hardwood floor only further soaks my panties. Dusty doesn’t stop undressing himself after his top half is bare. He hastily lowers his pants to allow his dick the freedom it deserves. The moment for me to appreciate the gorgeous vision is instantly stolen. He slips his hands under my skirt, rips the fabric in his way, and slides himself home.

A carnal cry claws its way out of my throat at the same time my nails cling to his biceps. “Dusty!”

He groans as my pussy clenches tightly around him. “You were fuckin’ made for me, baby.”

I wind my legs around him and lift my hips to meet each tender thrust. His head lightly presses against mine, breath already ragged. Face already strained. He slowly draws out every stroke, continuously smothering his cock from root to tip. The deliberate action is torturous, yet tantalizing. Sweet, yet sexually agonizing. My muscles savagely attempt to suck him inside, to settle him at the hilt where they want him most. Our mouths hover over one another, both desiring to let our tongues tangle, both too delirious to let them. One hand drifts to curl around the back of the couch and he uses his new stability to stretch out the delicious torment even more.

“I wanna come,” my complaint, breathless.

His grin becomes devilish though his movements remain even. “That what you need, birthday girl?”

“Yes….”

“You need to come on my cock?”

The redundant question causes me to groan my disapproval.

Dustin dives his dick deeper, each push now teasing my aching clit. “Tell me you need me, baby.”

There’s no reluctance to repeat the words, “I need you.”

A guttural grunt reverberates around the room. “Again.”

My pending climax has me shutting my eyes and purring, “I need you, Dusty….”

The growl he makes sounds more animalistic than the first, and his hips follow suit in the severity of their rocking.

Like I’ve discovered a hidden orgasmic secret, I repeat the words with more intensity. “I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my life.”

His cock throbs at the proclamation and my pussy swells in anticipation.

I barely make it another minute before I’m whimpering, “I’m coming, Dusty. I’m coming….”

My body bows off the couch, and he barbarically buries himself to the brink. Pounds his essence. Pumps his entire reason for living inside of me. Screams get smothered against his chest while my nails bite unforgivingly into his skin. He hisses, yet never stops thrusting. Never stops serving. The slick muscles mercilessly squeeze, devoted to fusing our orgasms the way we fuse the rest of our existence.

All of a sudden his breathing turns erratic presenting me with the only warning I need.

Scorching spurts splash inside of me stealing another sigh of satisfaction from my lips.

Thoughtlessly, I whisper out his name again, “Dusty….”

He moans, smashes his mouth against mine, and spirals towards the pinnacle euphoria with me.

There’s not a single doubt in my mind that we were made for each other. Neither my words nor his were just sweet nothings. I do need him, in ways I never imagined I would need anyone else. That thought would terrify me if I didn’t truly believe he felt the same way. Regardless of what tragedy most likely lies ahead tomorrow, I know everything will be alright in the end because we have each other. For me? That’s honestly enough.