We stare deeply into each other’s eyes. I love it when he fucks me. Relish feeling him throb inside me. Adore it when he holds my gaze as he sinks inside of me. And yet, this is more romantic. This, when he’s holding me close enough for our bodies to touch from torso to thigh, and his arms are a steel band around me, promising me that he’ll never let me go.
When the expression on his face is one of reverence, and devotion, and also, captivation.
When every line of his body, every angle of his face insists that I’m his. And he’s mine.
Only mine
I melt into him further. "I love you."
"I love you." His reply is instant. The moonlight illuminates his glittering eyes, picks out the hollows under his cheekbones, and turns him into a dashing god. Equal parts angel and devil. Who can make me orgasm until I’m faint. Who can make me feel so special, until it feels my heart is going to burst.
"Only you. My entire life has led up to this moment. Has led to you. It was always you, Lark. Always."
People begin to trickle out of the house.
“Ready to welcome in the new year?” Nathan calls out to us.
“You bet.” My husband nods back.
Then he twines his fingers through mine, moving us away from the house and into the shadows.
We reach the tree line that borders the property.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He leads me down a path between the trees, and away from the house.
A few minutes later, we enter a clearing. We’re shielded from being seen by those at the house and in the garden. There’s a bench in the center, facing the slope of Primrose Hill. Beyond that, the city lights shimmer in the distance.
He leads me toward the bench.
We sink down, and he wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. For a few seconds, we enjoy the view.
Then, as one, we turn to each other. He lowers his head as I raise mine. His jacket slides off my shoulders. Our mouths meet. Our lips cling. Our tongues marry.
The kiss is soft and deep. Sweet and sexy. Arrogant and affectionate. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s my sun and moon, and the stars. It’s him. I’m surrounded by him, and it feels right. Like I’ve come home. Like this is the start of my life.
All the heartaches and uncertainty, and the woman I was, so very different from who I’m going to be. With him. There’s a completeness. A rightness. A springboard to where I want to go. Our future stretching out before us.
Him and me.And our love. And the life we’ll build together.
I feel so happy, I think I’m going to burst.
And when he finally ends the kiss and presses his forehead into mine, his breath brushes my cheek, and I can feel his heart thudding as fast as mine.
"Wow," I whisper.
"Wow, indeed." He chuckles.
Then I chuckle too, and we hold each other, laughing.
If our joy had a color, it would be a fuchsia pink.
The air between us sparks, heat simmering between the molecules. This…shift from love to joy to lust. It’s the complete spectrum of feelings that characterizes our relationship.
“It’s almost midnight.” His eyes gleam.
“It is.” I swallow.
