“And I’m yours.” I thrust in and out. “That’s your freedom out there, Lucy De Courcy. I bought you hundreds of acres to roam freely, but I assure you...” I grunt when her inner walls spasm. “I’ll never let you leave me again.”
The intensity of her moan makes me lightheaded. My balls cramp. Her spine arcs, and she rotates her cheek so searching eyes find mine. “It’s my choice to stay. I could never leave you.” The words flow with every pant for air. “You’ve captured my heart. I love you.”
Time and space blur around us. I’m lost in the sensation of her body and how my heart slams, accepting our newfound love that deepens as every day passes.
We kiss.
We lose control.
We surrender with ragged breathing and satisfied groans.
I no longer hunt pain to replace pleasure, seek alcohol to numb reality or cower in remorse. Lucy is the new beginning and the only ending. My love and my hope.
In the aftermath of a heart stopping orgasm, her torso pivots fully, and she joins her forehead to mine. “I guess after that performance, I should show you what I’ve been working on.”
Taking my hand, she leads me around the large canvas. Air locks in my lungs. I knew she was talented, but this is remarkable. I’m instantly in awe of the likeness, how she’s structured my face with skillful sweeps and true to life shades. How she’s captured Tilly’s character through a single smile and how her own stunning face depicts happiness and freedom in her prime position beside us.
“It’s family, Brett. You, Tilly and me.” She eyes my reaction. “Do you like it?”
“It’s…” I’m speechless. The painting transcends adoption papers, wedding certificates, and pointless DNA tests. This woman isn’t just family. The vein tracks deeper. Blood runs thicker. Our connection surpasses chemistry.
“I love you, Lucy De Courcy. So fucking much.”
