“Is it weird if I don’t want to do anything?” I ask as I run my finger through the divots of his abs. “I mean, it’s just a day.”
“It’s not just a day, Ang,” he scolds.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. In fact, I’m claiming May twenty-second as National Angela Claire Taylor Day.”
I stop my tracing and look up at the serious expression on his face. “You’re not joking.”
“Nope,” he says and slides his hands under my arms, pulling me on top of him. “I love birthdays, so you might as well tell me something that you’d want to do.”
My legs fall to each side of him, and I lean down to bury my face in his neck. “Okay. In an ideal world, I’d wake upwith you, have breakfast, and then get on a train to head to New York for the weekend. There we’d do the touristy things like walk around the park, do a nice dinner, and then see if the symphony is in the city, before heading back to the hotel. And then the next morning, get a cup of some shop's famous coffee before heading back home,” I sigh and place a kiss on his neck. “Like I said, in an ideal world, that would be what I’d want to do. But I am also more than happy to spend the day with you. And if that includes naked things, it’s no contest.”
His body shakes with laughter. “We could do naked things every day.”
“Yeah,” I whisper and then nip at his neck, “but I’ve heard there’s nothing better than naked things on your birthday.”
“This has a birthday suit joke written all over it.”
“I don’t know,” I muse with another kiss, but this one’s closer to the fluttering pulse in his neck. “I quite like you in your birthday suit.”
His hands slide up my thighs and land on my hips, squeezing lightly. “What else do you like me in?” he asks, voice all gravelly.
“Your khakis,” I tell him and begin to slide his pajama bottoms down his hips.
“Yeah?” Curiosity coats his question as he reaches between us and runs his finger through my opening, groaning when he feels how wet I am. “What else do you like me in?”
I whimper as he teases my clit before reaching behind me, fisting his cock. Brandon moves his hand as I swipe the head of his dick through my opening. “What else do I like you in?” I ask, looking at him and repeating his question. “Me,” I answer as I sit back on his length.
Brandon’s responding groan as I move my hips over his cock is euphoric. His hands slide up my body and into my hair, holding me steady as he fuses our lips together and ruts his hips up in time with mine. Sweat begins to coat my skin as we move faster. The sounds of our skin slapping and moans echoing throughout the room cause my toes to curl as I climb the hill to my orgasm. I gasp into the kiss as Brandon sits us up. I put my hand behind me and move my hips, taking my pleasure as he moves in and out of me.
“God, you look beautiful like this,” Brandon says as he breaks the kiss. My head is thrown back in bliss and my hair falls down my back in tangled waves. His hands slide under my shirt and I bite my bottom lip, holding in a moan as his thumbs rub teasing circles over my nipples. “Losing yourself as you ride my dick. Taking your own pleasure.” If it’s possible, I get wetter as he continues to praise me. “That’s it, Angie.”
I sit back up and drape my arms over his shoulders. Brandon places his hands on my hips and moves me over his dick while our mouths take on a slower pace. Our tongues tangle as our bodies slowly move together, dancing to a song that we’ve somehow perfected in the short time we’ve been together. And when my orgasm gently rolls over me, causing me to gasp into Brandon’s mouth as tears leak from the corners of my eyes, I know this is it. That he’s the one I choose above anyone and anything. Our bodies continue to move as Brandon’s comes with a muted groan, his dick swelling before his cum paints my walls.
He rolls us to the side, still buried inside me as our kiss continues. I could kiss him all day. With his equally plump lips and skillful tongue, combined with who he is as an overall person, it’s only made me fall deeper in love with him.
“Hi,” I say when the kiss breaks.
“Hi, Angel.”
27
BRANDON
THREE MONTHS LATER
My bouncing leg vibrates the bench in the park that Angie and I have dubbed ours. She may not live with her parents anymore, but this park and bench will always be for us. It’s where we’d sneak away and enjoy being in public before finally coming clean to our loved ones.
“B, you’re kind of giving me motion sickness,” Angie says softly and lays her hand on my bouncing knee.
“Sorry,” I apologize and stop bouncing.
“Don’t be. I’m nervous too.”
I lean over, kissing her on the tip of her pinkened nose from our weekends spent at the golf course, and then turn to look back out over the park. We both reached out to our parents and asked them to meet us here. Angie and I expected to be ignored like we had repeatedly before, but to both of our surprises, they agreed to meet us.
We’ve been together for just about a year, and while to some it may seem fast, slow no longer applies to us when it comes to our relationship. While kids may not be in our future, a life as a married couple is. And this, clearing the air with our parents, is the next step.
