Disclaimer: Not mine.

Carvings, Confessions, & Coitus

I pull in a deep breath and sigh. Warmth rests against my cheek and strong arms anchor me in place. "Morning," I mumble, tracing the lines of his tattoo with my finger. I want to ask him about it again, but so far he's avoided giving me more than vague answers.

"Hi." His voice sounds like melting sugar, a little rough, but oh so sweet.

I shift my leg, my eyes falling shut when I brush against his morning wood. My mind drifts to last night, and my face heats with embarrassment.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, trailing his fingers up the length of my back.

"Last night," I admit, a shudder running up my spine as goose bumps break across my skin.

He hums but doesn't comment. I wonder if he's mad at me for my little stunt. I open my mouth to ask just that, but he speaks before I get the chance.

"Do you have to work today?"

I goan, and lift my head to get a peek at my alarm clock. "Yes. I actually need to get up or I'm going to be late."

He tightens his arms around me. Dropping a kiss to the top of my head, he loosens his hold and shifts to face me. "I have a pretty short day. Do you think you could duck out a little early."

I smile when he lifts his hand to my face and ghosts his thumb across my cheek. I let out the most pathetic fake cough ever and poke out my bottom lip. "I think I might be too sick to go into work at all. Maybe I should just stay here in bed, with you, all day."

He chuckles and props his head on his hand. It's ridiculous how sexy he looks at six in the morning. "Are you this tenacious about everything?"

I furrow my brow when I realize the answer. "No. Not really. I'm actually pretty lazy. This must be your fault. You and this," I say, giving a pointed stare to dick.

He ignores my comment. "You didn't answer my question."

I roll to my back and sigh. He's going to have to give it up sooner or later. No way he can continue this celibacy bullshit. It's going to kill us both. "Yeah, I can probably cut out around noon. Why?"

"Because I want to show you something."

I peek at him and lift my brow. "Oh, yeah?"

He pinches my side and rolls off the bed. "Relentless. Now go shower. I'm going to head out so I'll have time to stop by my place to shower and change. I'll meet you here at one." He leans over the bed and presses his lips to mine. His kiss is soft, sweet, and makes my skin heat.

"Okay," I say. I'm kind of dazed. I blink and try to focus. When I do, I'm met with his smirking face. I scowl. "Stop doing that."

He looks at me, innocent. "Doing what?"

I narrow my eyes and throw the sheets away from my body. Without breaking our gaze, I twist and stand from the bed. Naked. I stretch my arms overhead and arch my back. He can't take his eyes off me. "Doing things that make me look at you like you're looking at me right now." I brush past him, pausing to press a kiss to his cheek and push my tits against his bare chest.

"Frustrating isn't it?" I don't wait for an answer as I move toward the bathroom. His groan makes me smile. "See you at one," I sing, shutting the bathroom door behind me.

I eye my tub before turning on the shower and letting a nice steam build over the mirrors. I can't think about what happened last night with him still in the apartment. I might attack him. I shake my head and step under the spray. Who am I kidding? I would totally attack him.

He's gone when I finish in the bathroom, and it causes my stomach to do some weird flip thing. Maybe I'm just hungry. Or have gas. Whatever the reason, I push it to the back of my mind and finish getting ready for work.

I refrain from harassing Slick when I get to work. If I want to leave work without having to fake some kind of emergency, I need to focus on the stack of work I left sitting from the day before because all I ended up doing was doodling pictures of Edward's dick. With my head in the game, I actually managed to work through my work from yesterday as well as put a dent in the things I needed to finish today. Who knew if I actually worked and didn't play Candy Crush or exchange dirty pictures with Alice all day, I could actually be productive?

It's not something I plan to make a habit. Dirty pictures are far too important. I shut down my computer at half past noon and give Slick a salute before racing out of the building. Okay, maybe race isn't the right word. It was more of a Richard Simmons fast walk, but whatever.

Edward is leaning against my front door when I step out of the elevator. He legs are crossed at the ankle, his jeans hanging loose on his hips, and his shirt looks like it's seen better days. He lifts his hat covered head when I move closer and a smile breaks across his face.

"You look nice."

"And you look fucking delicious," I say before I can stop myself. I need a muzzle. Seriously.

He laughs and pushes away from my door as I roll my eyes. I'm not going to even bother trying to explain why I can't control the things that come out of my mouth. If he wants to be with me, he needs to get used to the fact that I am a mess.

"Is that so?" He's laughing at me. His eyes give him away even though no sound escapes his mouth.

I push him out of the way and shove my key into the lock with a little more force than necessary. He's behind me immediately. His arms wrap around my waist, and he presses his lips to the side of my neck. "You look pretty fucking delicious yourself, Isabella."

I do that melt thing again. My entire body sags and my skin tingles. I've never had a man affect me this way. With every day that passes, I'm beginning to realize I probably won't again. We shuffle into the apartment since he doesn't release me. I can't be bothered to care. "What is it that you want to show me?" I ask. My voice is low and soft. Everything feels intimate, and I don't want to do anything to break the moment that I'm loving so much.

He squeezes me against him and drops his face to my neck. His body feels stiff, like he's tensing. It makes me uneasy. "Are you okay?"

He releases a heavy breath and kisses me just below my ear before he whispers against my ear. "I'm better than I've been in a long time. I don't know what you've done to me, but I don't want it to ever end."

My eyes prick, and I feel like such a fucking girl. I turn in his arms and wrap mine around his neck. Dropping my forehead to his, I say the most idiotic thing possible. "I drugged you. It won't last forever, but since you're being so compliant it will make future doses easier."

His entire body shakes when he laughs. "I'm so fucking happy I met you."

"Me too," I sigh. "We should send your ex a thank you card for having sex in public and getting arrested. Her stupidity led you to me."

"Fruit basket?" He's joking. I hope.

"As long as the fruit is rotten, I'm game."

"Go change," he chuckles. "Something comfortable. Are you hungry? We can eat first if you want?"

I shake my head. I'm too curious about what he wants to show me to worry about such trivial things as food. "We can grab something later. I'll be right back."

For the first time in hours, I actually don't act like a girl. I grab the first pair of jeans I find and pull a shirt out of my dresser. Snatching a hair tie from the top of my dresser, I wrap it around my wrist and head back to the living room. I push my feet into my shoes and move to stand in front of where he's reclined on my sofa.


He looks shocked. "You're ready?"

"I can go undress and redress. Fix my hair and redo my makeup if you'd like. But if you want to get going, then yes. I'm ready."

"You just keep getting better." He smirks and stands. Pulling me against him he kisses me until I don't remember what we were talking about, but I want to talk about it always and forever if it garners that kind of reaction.

"Yup." I have no idea what I just agreed.

He pulls away and threads our fingers. "C'mon. I have something I want to show you."

He looks nervous. It makes me nervous. I say stupid shit when I'm nervous. "It's not illegal is it? Like, you're not going to confess to being a serial killer and show me the bodies of your victims are you?" See? Stupid shit.

He looks at me like I'm crazy. I return his stare. It's not like I'm the one with dead bodies lying around my apartment.

"It's not illegal," he says, still eying me like I'm unstable.

"And the dead bodies?"

He shakes his head and pulls me from the apartment. "Only their ghosts," he mumbles. It doesn't make me feel better. Not even a little.

We drive in silence as he turns down unfamiliar roads. Anxiety makes me fidget. I'm not worried about him, but I am nervous about whatever it is that he wants to show me. We pull onto a dirt road leading to only God knows where. Well, God and Edward. And a few ghosts apparently.

The road narrows, the trees becoming denser. "Where are we going?"

"We're almost there." As soon as he speaks, we round a corner and a cabin comes into view. My brows dip in confusion, and I'm ready to make a ridiculous comment about evil liars, but when I turn toward him, the look on his face stops me. He looks so fucking sad.

"Are you okay?"

He nods and gives me a small smile. "Yeah. Come on, I want to show you my place."

I look between him and the cabin feeling utterly confused. "You live here?" I'm not trying to be snobby or anything, but it doesn't actually give a vibe of home. There are stacks of wood on pallets and large blue tarps covering who knows what. I think there's a PortaPotty around the side of the house. "I'm going to need a little more information."

He chuckles and steps out of the car. Moving around to my side, he meets me as I shut my door.

"Do you remember when you asked me about my tattoo?"

I perk up at the mention of his tattoo and nod. Typically the thought of the ink on his chest makes me act like a horney school girl, but the look on his face stops me.

"My father. This was his. Well, he started it. But he'll never finish it."

My stomach drops when his words register. "Is he…" I leave the words hanging in the air, not wanting to say them out loud.

"Yes. A little over a ago. Heart attack."

"I'm sorry." I feel so lame.

He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. "It wasn't unexpected. It was his third one. Stubborn bastard."

He pulls me toward the cabin and guides me up the stairs. When he opens the front door I stop breathing. Like full on dramatic movie star gasp. It's like nothing I've ever seen. While the outside is nothing special, the inside is a different story.

What appears to be tree trunks act as support beams for the loft above. Stairs twist in a circle from one of the trees, the branches running under each step almost as if you're walking out of a tree. Large panes of glass in the ceiling allow rays of sunshine to flood the room. There's no furniture, except for a couple of camping chairs in what I assume will be the kitchen. Dust swirls in the air when I step forward, my mouth still hanging open like an idiot.

"This is beautiful," I whisper.

"Thanks. I still have a lot of work to do."

I spin to face him. "You did this?"

He shrugs and reaches out, trailing his fingers along the knots of the tree closest to him. "My dad started it, but he never had time to really work on it. I helped when I could. I should have done more."

"How did you find these?" I ask, moving to where he's standing.

He chuckles and I assume I've said something stupid. Color no one surprised. "What?"

"I didn't find them. I made them."

I give him a blank stare because I can't even think of something stupid to say. When he notices he takes pity and continues. Thank god.

"Maybe I should start from the beginning."

I nod. "That'd be great. Thanks."

He laughs at my smartass tone and walks us to the wall by the door. Once I see it, really see it, I'm distracted all over again. I do a quick check around the room and realize that every wall is the same. Dates and phrases are carved into the wood. The letters tip and swirl and if I didn't know better, I'd swear they'd always been there and not carved by someone.

"Wow." That's all I've got. Wow.

"My great grandfather was an architect. He started a small firm with a few other men, and after many years and struggles, they finally had some success. My grandfather followed in his footsteps, eventually buying out the other guys and taking full ownership of the company. It was his life. I still wonder how he found the time to get married and start a family when I hear stories about him.

"My Dad," he sighs, his face sad again. I really hate that face. "He was expected to follow in their footsteps. Go to school, get his degree, and eventually take over the company. But he didn't want to design structures, he wanted to build them. He hated the idea of running a company. Bullshit politics, budgets, paperwork, he wanted nothing to do with them. When he was a junior in college he met my mom. With her support, he finally told my grandfather he had no intention of taking over. My grandfather refused to listen, even threatened to cut him off. Dad didn't care, at least not until he found out my mother was pregnant."

He runs his fingers over a date carved in the wood. It's the year he was born, but seven months earlier. Realization hits me that it must be the date his parents found out they were having a baby. I'm suddenly overcome with emotion and my eyes prick as I scan the walls again. All of the dates, the phrases; they're memories. Moments in time encapsulated forever in the grains of wood.

He takes my hand and tugs me forward, moving along the length of the room. I touch the words "I Do" and smile at the date two months before Edward's birth.

"Everything changed after that. He finished school and fell in line just like my grandfather wanted. Mom said after a while, it was almost like he didn't even remember the dreams he had when they'd met. He was so focused on providing a good life for us that what he once wanted wasn't important anymore. Then he had his first heart attack." He points at a date on the lower section of a beam and I can only assume it's the date of when it happened.

"It was the summer after my freshman year. I decided to come home and help him out around the house while he recovered. He was different. One day he wakes me and tells me to get dressed, he wants to take me somewhere. I did what he said, and then he brought me here. It was nothing but a clearing. He told me we were going to build something." He laughs and moves toward the back of the room.

"I thought he was crazy. We didn't build things. We were the designers. The creators. The mind behind the muscle." He shakes his head. "God, I was such an idiot. Never had it crossed my mind that I would do anything other than go to college, get my degree, and then work for the company. It was expected. My life was all planned out for me."

He looks at me and I get it then. I understand the significance of his tattoo. The fact that he's telling me all of this solidifies something inside me about him. I just can't force myself to say it. Not yet. I blink back the traitorous tears trying to escape, but my face feels like it's on fire. There's no hiding it. I probably look terrifying.

"You don't?" he whispers with a smile, and I let out an embarrassed laugh. The moment gives me a chance to get my girly emotions under control, and for once I'm thankful for my word vomit.

"So what happened?"

"This place happened. It changed everything. I spent the summer here. I watched it go up piece by piece, and every day things became clearer. I didn't want to become my father. I didn't want to be trapped in an office behind a desk. He saw it, too. He stopped coming out here when I was around. Told me he had more important things to do with my time and so did I. That was when he really started riding me about school. He worked more, slept less, and gave himself another stress induced heart attack. We stopped speaking. I finished school, but we both knew I had no intention of going to work for him.

"About a year and a half ago I started coming here again. He'd added so much. That's when I saw the dates. The memories. Right before he died, I asked him why he did it, why he gave up doing something he clearly loved. I understood his reasoning in the beginning, but he could have left later, yet he stayed. He just shrugged and said it was expected. He died three months later."

"I'm so sorry." I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him as tight as I can. He mimics my position and rests his chin on the top of my head.

"I got my tattoo the day after we buried him. A way to remember him. A reminder of what happens when others are allowed to make decisions about how your life plays out. When you do what others believe is right."

Silence settles around us, and he shifts his weight before releasing me. When I look at him he seems nervous, hesitant. For reasons I can't explain, I know he's worried he just unloaded too much on me. That I'm going to bolt because shit just got real. I'm not having any of that, so I'm going to do what I do best: dazzle him with my charming personality. And by dazzle, I mean say stupid shit.

"Huh." I kinda hum and give him the once over. "I hate to break it to you, but you're not following your advice very well."

He furrows his brows, but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when he sees my mischievous grin. "Is that so?" he asks and steps closer.

I hum and step back. He advances. It makes my stomach drop. I flatten my palm against the wall and step back again, letting the rough and smooth parts of the wood scratch against my skin. "Well," I say, my heart pounding when my back bumps against the wall and I realize I've backed myself into a corner. Literally. "For someone who has every reason to not let what is and isn't considered acceptable and basically gave a big fuck you to the man, or in this case your grandfather, you sure are hung up on the hows and whens of the progression of our relationship."

He tsks and shakes his head. "Here I am, pouring my heart out, and all you can think about is sex."

"It's your own fault. You created this monster." I wave my hands dramatically toward myself before propping my fists on my hips and smirking. "You could always shut me up. I have a few suggestions." I'm such a shameless huzzy.

He laughs and reaches for my hand. "Let me show you the rest of the place."

I take his hand, since it's currently the only thing he's offering, and follow behind him. He points out the kitchen and what he has planned before showing me the bathroom and spare bedroom. When we reach the master bedroom I'm more than a little stunned. The entire back of the cabin is glass. From the vaulted ceiling, branches descend over the highest windows, creeping across the surface like a barren ivy vine. Through the glass I see a wide open space and what I think is a river bank. I never want to leave.

"Can we stay?" I ask. Even I can hear the awe in my voice.

"I take it you approve?" He moves behind me and wraps his arms around my middle. His chin rests on the top of my head, and I think this has become my favorite position. Clothed anyway. Possibly without clothes as well. But that's a thought for another time.

"I can't believe you did all this. Well, you and your dad. It's really amazing."

"Thank you." The pride in his voice is unmistakable.

I turn in his arms and drap mine over his shoulders. "All joking aside, you did the right thing. This place is proof of that. I'm sorry that your dad didn't figure it out sooner, didn't support you more. But there's no way he isn't proud of you." My eyes prick and I look away. I don't cry. I'm the girl that yells at people for crying, or makes fun of them. I'm the "there's no crying in baseball" kind of girl, not the blubbering mess everyone mocks.

"You really don't want to stay here," he says. I'm pretty sure he knows I'm being girly, but like the gentleman he's trying so desperately to be, he doesn't comment.

"I do." I really do.

"There's no power. All I have is a small generator to run the tools and a mini fridge that has nothing but beer and a jar of pickles."

"I like beer and pickles."

"I only have an air mattress," he argues. Bless him. He'll figure out sooner or later that arguing with me is an act in futility.

"Sounds perfect."

He pulls back and cocks his brow, a full blow smirk on his kissable lips. Ugh. I'm not going to like whatever he's about to say. I just know it. "There's no plumbing."

And there it is. Damnit. I wrinkle my nose and look around the room. "What do you do when you stay up here? How to you pee and shower and stuff?"

He chuckles and leans closer. "I don't have the same needs as you when I pee." Ah yes. Super cock. How could I forget?

"And showers?" There's no way he stays here for days at a time without a shower. I hope. Gross.

"I only recently started staying here more than a night. That's because the weather is warmer." He jerks his head toward the window and I follow his gaze. "I jump in the river."

I picture his perfectly toned body, free of clothes, diving head first into the water. It makes my heart speed and my lips part. I want to see that. I need to see that. "You skinny dip?" Did my voice just squeak? I look at Edward, who's grinning like the cat who ate the canary. I totally squeaked.

He hums in acknowledgement and moves his face until his nose brushes mine. His lips are soft as he ghosts them over mine and they part when he exhales a shuddering breath. When he pulls me closer, I feel his heart racing against my chest. Mine starts to accelerate as well, like it's trying to catch up to his. It doesn't take much.

I twist my fingers in his hair and tilt my head so I can kiss him fully. He squeezes me tighter when our lips part and our tongues touch. I've never been kissed the way he kisses me. I've never had a kiss affect me the way his do. I breath through my nose, because I don't want to stop. A moan builds in my throat when his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, but comes out like a groan when he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine.

"You make being good very difficult."

A breathy laugh escapes me as butterflies flutter in my stomach. "Why couldn't you have said hard instead of difficult? I would have made the best jokes ever."

He chuckles and drops his hands to my ass. "I'm learning."

"Boo. You're no fun. My jokes are awesome." My jokes are ridiculous. And mostly bad, juvenile. Whatever. He likes them. Maybe. I narrow my eyes and pout a little.

He lifts a hand to my ponytail and slides my hair though his hand, draping it over my shoulder. "Do you really wanna stay?"

My pout disappears almost as fast as my panties do when he's around. "Yes!" I bounce on my toes, and for once it's not because I'm trying to get him to look at my tits, which he does of course, but that wasn't my intention.

"There's a PortaPotty outside. You'll have to use that, but it's clean. I had it delivered when I was here a couple of days ago."

"You came here? I thought you were working."

"I was. On the house. I met with the plumbers. I was going to wait to bring you here after the power and plumbing was installed, but being here, I just―" He rakes his hand through his hair, and I can tell he's frustrated. Poor guy. He shouldn't beat himself up. Not everyone can be as eloquent as me. "I couldn't wait to show you."

His words cause that melty feeling again. I'd pee in the woods to stay here with him. But I don't have to. Because there's a PortaPotty. Thank God. "I'm really glad you didn't wait."

"Me, too," he whispers, leaning in for another kiss. "I think I have some beef jerky and trail mix in my car. Let me go look. I'll be right back."

I nod and step back. When he disappears out of the room, I move to the wall closest to me. I drag my hand along the wall, surprised to find it mostly untouched. There are maybe ten dates, dashes, and three to five word descriptions carved into the wood. They're all more recent than the others, the phrases seemingly random. Lighter. Happy. I move toward the glass and freeze when I see a date carved into the wood that's only a few weeks ago. My heart beats faster and I have to count backward on my fingers because my mind is racing at the possibility of what the date signifies. When I figure it out, I can't even breathe.

It's the night we met.

With trembling fingers, I trace the date, stopping when I get to the dash. I hear his boots against the wood flooring as he approaches, but I can't move. I'm frozen. He places his hands on my hips and I feel like I'm on fire.

"Does it bother you?" His voice is low, gruff.

I shake my head because I need a moment to find my voice. Which never happens. At least it didn't until I met him. He's a words thief. I press my thumb into the wood over the dash and pull it back, staring at the indention. "Why haven't you written anything after the dash?" My words are choked and for once I can't find it in me to care.

His hands slide under my shirt and a shiver runs up my spine. "Because I don't know what to write yet."

"When will you know?"

"That depends on you." His thumb brushes under the edge of my bra and it causes my muscles to clench.

I swallow and remind myself it's not really possible to spontaneously combust from feeling too much. "If―" I clear my throat and try to steady my voice. "What would you write? Right now?"

His breath fans across my neck as he moves my hair to the side and lets his lips ghost against the shell of my ear. "I found her."

I'm undone. All reason is gone. I spin around, and without pause, I attack. He stumbles back, but I don't stop my advances. I fist the hem of his shirt and yank it over his head. I'm pretty sure it rips. I couldn't care less. I grip the top of his jeans and he grabs my wrists. I shake my head. No fucking way is he cockblocking the epic sex we're about to have.

"I will take you by force if I have to." I really hope I'm joking. We lock eyes and I know it then. I'm not joking. Not even a little.

His eyes darken and his grip tightens on my wrists. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to do the manhandling."

Everything tightens. His voice, it's like the night we met. When we were in the bathroom of the bar and he couldn't wait to touch me everywhere. My knees buckle a little when my legs start to shake. "Then fucking manhandle me."

He smirks, and I know I'm in the best kind of trouble. My shirt is gone before I can pull in a breath. He hoists me over his hips, and my legs wrap around his waist moments before my back collides with the wall. My bra disappears and his mouth is everywhere. He grinds against me, and I moan when I feel how hard he is.

I'm panting and clawing at his back. The only word I can form is more. He rocks against me again, and his mouth descends to my neck. Biting, licking, and sucking, he works me over until the throb between my legs echos in my ears.

"You want me to fuck you against our date until I can see its impression in your skin?"

"Yes," I groan.

He releases my legs. My feet touch the floor moments before he drops to his knees. He trails kisses across my stomach as he slides my jeans down my legs. I kick them off, dazed and panting in only my underwear as he lifts my leg over his shoulder and breathes against where I'm aching.

"You have no idea how much I've thought about your pussy," he whispers. He leans forward and bites my silk covered skin. His teeth graze my clit, and I grip the wall behind me to keep from falling. "I haven't had a wet dream since I was fourteen, you've fucking ruined me."

"I haven't cockblocked you. Any suffering you've been through, you did to yourself."

"I didn't want you to think I only wanted sex."

I look down at him and make my most incredulous face. "Did you miss the part where I said I was okay with that?"

"I wasn't." He moves both hands to one side of my panites and grips the material. When he looks at me, I have no idea how I manage to keep from coming on the spot. He tugs slightly and smirks. "I hope you're not fond of these."

I don't have to ask why. They rip and fall to the floor before I can form a single word. His fingers dig into my flesh, and my body jerks when his tongue slides over my swollen clit. I fist his hair and refrain from pushing his face further between my legs. I feel him everywhere.

He drags his fingers around my thigh and pushes one, then another, inside me. His tongue and fingers work in sync in their quest to kill me. Bite, thrust, lick, twist. He plays me like an instrument. I'm shaking and moaning. I'm pushing him away and pulling him closer before my entire body freezes and heat spreads through my body. It travels from my limbs to my center before exploding in bone jarring relief. I sag against the wall, sated but hungry for more.

Dazed, I smile down at him. I tug his hair until he pushes my leg off his shoulder and rises to his feet. "It doesn't end here," I say. My voice holds none of the sternness I intended. It's stained and needy. Luckily, it doesn't seem to matter.

"Fuck no it doesn't. It's not over until I replace the faded bruises on your inner thighs."

"God, yes." My eyes roll back when he pulls my nipple between his lips and sinks his teeth into my pebbled skin.

"I wish I could tell you that I'm going to be gentle," he rasps, tugging at the buttons of his jeans until they hang loose around his hips. "But you have tested me in ways I didn't even know was possible. I'm due some retribution."

"Take it. Take whatever you want."

The rip of the condom wrapper echos around the room. A split second of silence follows before my legs are once again around his waist and his cock is buried deep inside me. I gasp-moan and grip his shoulders. His muscles flex under my fingertips as he slams his hips against mine. His lips find mine and he palms my tit. He kneads my flesh as his tongue seduces me, and his cock punishes me with pleasure. I gasp-groan and clench around him as he takes out weeks of frustration on my body.

"What have you done to me?" he pants. I have no idea what he's talking about since I'm two seconds away from oblivion.

"Pussymatized you?" I did not just fucking say that.

His movements falter. Chuckling, he drops his sweaty forehead to my equally sweaty chest. Fuck. I said it outloud.

He pins my body against the wall and lifts both of his hands to cradle my jaw. We're hip to hip, his dick buried so deep that I have no idea where he ends and I begin.

"You're fucking insane. And perfect. Please don't change." He kisses me, soft and slow. Intimate.

I grip his biceps and shake my head when we break apart. "The sane train left a long time ago. What you see is what you get." I tighten my legs around him and grin. "Now tattoo that fucking date and dash into my back."

He grabs my hips and slams into me. "Oh, I plan to."

And he does. Twice.


Annnnddddd that concludes this segment of LL&L. Will I ever write more? I don't know. Probably? Maybe? We'll see. I have a lot of fun writing these two. It's a nice change of pace, also hoodrat Alice is awesome.

Thanks for molesting my doc, ooza. You're the best.

See you guys soon!