“Have you ever killed a man with your bare hands?”

“Stacy, I --”

“Oh, oh, and have you ever jumped out from a plane?”

“I don’t think that --”

“And secret missions? Do you go on secrets missions?”

Leaning into me, Sanders does the only sensible thing he could possible do and shuts me up by pressing his lips against mine. I smile as we kiss, feeling the taste of his lips and tongue, and nibble gently at his lower lip.

“I’m making too many questions, I know,” I chuckle, looking into his eyes and laying my hand on top of his.

“Not at all,” Sanders replies, smiling softly. “I just don’t know if I can answer so many questions at once.”

We’re sitting in Central Park, a picnic towel resting over the grass in front of us. It’s been a week since I found out about Sanders’ true identity, and it feels good to be out of the house, you know? When we left the studio that day, Sanders drove me back to my apartment and we barely left ever since. We’ve been terribly busy, if you can imagine that. The dirty, sweaty kind of busy.

What? It’s not like I can restrain myself, you know? Don’t tell me you’d do any differently if you had the most perfect man you have ever met telling you that he loves you, his cock hard and ready to unleash a storm of pleasure all over your body... You’d never leave the house, that much I can guarantee you.

Even now, sitting just a few feet across from him, I have to take deep breaths from time to time just so I can keep myself in check. I just want to jump on top of him, rip his shirt out and kiss my way down his hard abs until I brush my lips against his hard and extremely thick -- ahem, and here I go again. See, I told you: it’s really hard to restrain myself. I’m trying, though.

“What? You’re looking at me all weird,” Sanders laughs, and I bite on my lower lip, staring at him and feeling my thong becoming all damp and messy.

“I just can’t wait to get back to the apartment,” I say, my voice already heavy with anticipation.

“We’ve barely left,” he laughs, plucking a tiny slice of cheese from one of the plates in the towel and bringing it to his mouth. He grabs another and then gives it to me; I take it between my teeth even though I’m not hungry. Well, I’m not hungry for food - I sure as hell wouldn’t mind having his cock for lunch.

Jesus, what the hell happened to me, right? I liked men before, of course, but ever since Sanders and I crossed paths that I have turned into some kind of sex addict. Seriously, I don’t think a minute goes by without me thinking of his naked body and his huge cock. It’s like I’m having the best dream anyone could ever have, except that it’s real.

But don’t think it’s all about the sex. There’s more to it than that. Now that I know who Sanders really is, and that he was by my side to protect me all along… Well, it turns all this from a wet dream into a fairy tale of sorts.

Back when I was in college, I used to have these crushes on the hottest men in my classes, and I thought that I knew what love was. As I grew up, the notion of love kinda started to fade away. Now, I realize that I’ve been a fool along - I never had a clue about what love truly is, and I sure as hell was an idiot to give up on it altogether. But now that Sanders is by my side I’ve found that not everything nice and sweet about life is a mirage; love is real… Very, very real.

“I love you, Sanders,” I whisper at him, feeling Central Park’s gentle breeze whip at my hair. He gazes into my eyes for a few heartbeats, and then caresses my face with the back of his hand, his fingers settling on my chin.

“I love you too.” With that he leans into me, gently brushing his lips on my own. Our tongues dance around one another, and that damp spot in my thong starts to grow and grow until there’s a wet mess between my thighs. Unable to control myself, I place one hand on his knee and let my fingers trail up all the way to his crotch; I’m not surprised when I find a bulging shape there, his cock already hard and standing at attention.

“Back to the apartment?” I ask him, my lips curling upward into a mischievous grin.

“Back to the apartment,” he agrees. It takes us just a few seconds to pack everything up and be on our way, walking in a rush out of Central Park. Around us the world keeps on turning; happy couples, kids, joggers, and all manners of people passes us by, New York City feeling as alive as I’ve ever felt it.

I reach for his hand with mine and lace my fingers on his. He squeezes, and I squeeze right back; we exchange a timid glance, and then hurry our step.

You know what’s the best part in all of this? This isn’t just lust or love. It’s something that goes way deeper than that. Somehow, even though our relationship has just started, I can tell that we’re not going to drift away from each other anytime soon - or ever. The bond we have is everlasting and, whatever the world may throw in our way, what we have simply won’t break.

I can see it all unfolding in front of my eyes, too. A marriage, kids, a small cabin in the woods where we can hide from New York’s busyness… Just like something out of a fairy tale.

And, hell, I deserve it. After all, every girl deserves her happy ending.