“Okay.” I hook my arms around him and drag him onto me, so I can watch his eyes close up. “Then who’s your hall-pass fuck I’m supposed to be so magnanimous about sharing you with?”
He smirks. “Deadpool himself.”
“I’m guessing you mean Ryan Reynolds?” Now I know he’s not serious, and it takes a little emotional pressure off me.
“Absolutely.”
“What about his wife?”
He shrugs. “I’m not doing her. Even though pussy would normally wilt me, for the ole’ Double-R, I’d gladly let her watch me bang him like a screen door. Or him bang me. I’d be good either way, in that case. Or both.”
I sigh. “You realize there is effectively zero chance of that ever happening, right?”
“Right.” He reaches up and plays with my hair. “But Ican, however, change my answer at any future point.” His gaze finally settles on mine. “So can you.” He takes a deep breath. “The fuckability factor still comes into play, though. The HPF is all about what and who youwoulddo, given the chance. Not the odds of it happening in the first place.”
“Well, if you had the chance to bang R-Squared, I guess I wouldn’t blame you. In fact, I’d probably change my answer right then and there and do him with you. The cum gutters on that man’s abs are completely lickable.”
He grins. “Right? That’s whatI’msaying. And, FYI, that would be fucking haaawwt!” He kisses me. “Not that you aren’t a delicious hunk of prime rib yourself, Master, but…” He shrugs.
“You love his snark.”
“I fuckinglovehis snark. Some people would jump at the chance to have Morgan Freeman narrate their life. Me? I want RyRey.”
“You hear the red verses in his voice, don’t you?That’swhy you practically giggle in bible study every time we’re working on a New Testament chapter and there’s Jesus quotes!”
I cannotbelieve it took me this long to figure it out, but it only makes sense.
He snickers and buries his face against my chest. “Guilty,” he mumbles. “And Moses, and angels, and the Holy Spirit.”
My God, my boy can still make me laugh and surprise me.
He lightens my soul and lifts the darkness.
He is the closest thing ever to me exorcising my ghost. Maybe the closest I’ll ever get. “Marry me,” I whisper, almost shocking myself.
He freezes in my arms and finally, slowly, lifts his head until our gazes are locked again. “What?”
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to be brave. This man lets me beat and mark his body, lets me fuck his mouth and ass, lets me do deeply depraved things to him on a regular basis.
Including during church.
The least I can do is make an honest man out of him. We’re living together now, anyway. I mean, technically, we are. I never let him spend a night alone, unless it’s for work. We might be at my place or his, or even a hotel, but we’re together nearly every night.
“Marry me, baby. I love you, and if you’re willing to still love and want me even knowing what a fucked-up wreck I am and probably always will be, I’d be stupid to let you slip away.”
He sits up, all serious now. “You know how I feel about marriage.”
I nod. “I do.”
“And yet, you’re still asking me.”
I slowly nod again. “I am.”
He stares at me for a long moment but I don’t rush to fill the silence.
With him, I never have to, anddamnhow I’d missed that feeling.
“There’s no one else, and no do-overs,” he finally says, then bobs his head from side to side, eyebrows arched. “I mean, other than the hall-pass fuck rules,obviously.”
