He opens his mouth, and I steal the breath that escapes it, swallowing down his groans of pleasure. He’s still pumping inside me, cock pulsing as he barrels toward his release. Lifting my hips to deepen the angle, I lock my ankles around his back.
The soft gasp of my name leaves his lips a fraction before I feel him pause, his entire body going rigid before he drops his head to my neck, pulsating as he spills inside me. The warmth of his cum fills me, his deep groans vibrating against my collarbone, hips trembling as his orgasm rushes through him.
I stroke his back, giving him time to come down from his climax, allowing myself to savor the weight of his boneless body on top of me.
“I want you to tell me that it’s never been like this with anyone else,” I whisper softly. “I want to know that I’m the only one who’s ever made you feel this way.”
“Only you, Elena. I can’t remember anything before you anymore, and I don’t want to.” He lets out a shuddering breath against my flesh. “You’re all that matters.”
I nod, sliding my hand up his neck and stroking my fingers through his soft curls. He pulls back enough that he can look at me, his hands replicating my movements as he runs them through my hair. A soft, warm glow illuminates his face from the dim lamp in the corner of the room, and his face is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You are everything,” he whispers.
Three words linger on the tip of my tongue, like the heart that escaped its cage and ended up on my sleeve. I’m too afraid to say them, though. They feel like a curse to me.
Instead, I say, “You are too.”
30
VIOLET
“AT THE BEACH, IN EVERY LIFE” - GIGI PEREZ
“This is my writing,isn’t it?” she asks, dragging her hand along my ribcage hours later.
The sun had just set when we finished, and by the time we showered together, it was late enough to have dinner. We ordered in our favorite Chinese takeout from our childhood before falling back into my bed with her favorite television show on.
I told her I hadn’t watchedVanderpump Rulessince she left, and she looked sad for a moment before realizing I had missed some huge scandal that I desperately needed to catch up on.
So, that’s what we’re doing now as she lies against my chest and brushes her hands across my skin. Over the tattoo of the filleted heart, the purple flowers, and the poem—written in Italian.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Why?”
I turn my head, finding her eyes glowing with cautious curiosity.
“I was in pain. The needle numbed it.”
She blinks, nodding before her eyes cast down, full lips forming the kind of pout that lets me know she’s thinking deeply.
“So, you kept that poem, then?”
“I’ve kept all of them,” I whisper, twirling one of her curls around my finger. “Everything of you.”
She lifts onto an elbow, tilting her head and causing her long, dark hair to drape across my chest. "Everything?” she asks. “Every poem I’ve ever written you?”
I nod.
“Why did you get that one tattooed?”
I shrug. “It was the most recent one you wrote before everything happened. It was when we were our happiest. Seemed like the words were probably worth scarring my skin with.”
She shakes her head, eyes widening. “You mean…you don’t even know what it says?”
“No. You wrote them in a language you know I can’t read. They’re encrypted. I figure, if you wanted me to know what they said, you’d have written them in English.”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
