“They’re fireworks,” I say as if he can’t see them himself. Vibrant colours streak across my skin, imitating three bursts close together. Loren did an incredible job bringing it to life.
“Fireworks,” Grady repeats. His thumb caresses the spot.
“New Year’s Eve fireworks.” Only we’ll know what they are, what they mean.
Grady’s touch stutters. “Lake…”
“I never want to forget.” The first night we met. Our first kiss. It’s a celebration of where we began, the first day that I knew he existed. I’ll never again be who I was before that night.
He tugs my head to the side, kissing me with renewed urgency. He starts moving inside me again, thrusting more erratically, frenzied. His answer to my gesture: our love language of touchand passionate greed. This is our cornerstone, everything else between us feeding from it.
A hand sneaks around to stroke my cock, and my toes curl, lust rising in my groin, pushing and pulsing.
“I love you,” he rasps, lips against my ear.
I reach back, wrapping my arms around his neck, stretching my chest and changing the angle of his thrusts.
He’s all around me, my only oxygen, when I come. He groans when I clench his cock with my ass and cry out so hard it echoes around the small room. My soul leaves my body, dancing with his, and I know nothing else will ever be like this. Nothing will ever fit the way we do. A lock and key unique to us.
He continues thrusting lazily even though he’s already come too. I’m sensitive, and I twitch from the hold on my cock. But I’m in no hurry to move either.
Three weeks felt like a lifetime without him, and I need to stay close to him, soak his presence in so I can sustain myself.
Eventually, we leave the shower, for water conservation if nothing else. We dry each other off and kiss slowly, taking our time touching, skin to skin.
We don’t make it out of the bathroom for the second round, Grady bending me over the sink while I watch in the mirror as he turns me inside out.
Chapter twenty-seven
Grady
Saturdayeveningcomestoosoon and with it, nerves I can’t quite shake. It doesn’t help that Lake is currently in the bedroom getting ready to go out with his friends and brother for his buck’s night. Even after almost a week of him being home, I still feel strange being apart from him outside of work hours. During work hours can be a little iffy too. How long does it take for us to re-settle? I don’t know that number. Hopefully soon.
I opted out of doing my own buck’s night, simply because I don’t understand them. While Lake’s buck’s night is really just an excuse for him to hang out with his friends and socialise, most of them are an excuse to drink and do things that make me question the couple’s decision to get married in the first place.If a man is so miserable with his spousal choice that he needs “one last night of freedom,” which often involves stripping—and in some cases, cheating—then maybe he needs to rethink his life and set his fiancé free. I’m not interested in getting blind drunk the night before one of the biggest days of my life or in seeing a man get naked who isn’t my fiancé, or taking drugs, or whatever the fuck else they do. I’d rather stay home.
Riley and I have a night of movies and ice cream planned. Well, I do. He can do whatever he wants. He’s probably still sorting through the mountains of shit that Lake went overboard buying him today.
“How do I look?” Lake bounces into the room and twirls. He looks the same as he always does, in jeans and a SpongeBob T-shirt. There’s something comforting about it. Familiar.
“Great.” I’ll never think otherwise, no matter what he’s wearing.
He jumps on me, settling in my lap. “Yeah? Would you put me on top of a Christmas tree?”
“A sturdy one.” It’s hard enough getting a regular star on the flimsy top, whether it’s fake or real. A flawed design.
He smiles wide and cradles my face, stroking my beard lightly. “I’ll be home by curfew. Will you wait up for me, naked?”
My cock twitches at just the thought of greeting him that way when he gets home, and just what we’ll get up to afterward. “And what’s curfew?”
He kisses me, lips lingering. “Hmm, midnight?”
“Eleven.” I lift my chin, chasing him as he teases me.
“Eleven fifteen.” This time the kiss is firmer, tongue flicking my bottom lip.
“Eleven seventeen,” I negotiate, not paying much attention to the words at this point. Only where he keeps moving his mouth.
Lake glides a hand over my head, lips hovering. “Eleven sixteen.”
