Samantha

“I wanted to thank you,” you throw a quiet, indebted smile at Sam, who is so casually leaned against the hallway wall of his mess of a home you’d think he might be falling into a nap if he wasn’t eyeing you so watchfully.

It’s lush here, with green vining plants spidering from any and every container that will hold soil - look! there’s a mug with variegated ivy lazing its way down ceramic strangely on the bathroom counter - and, dogs. Dogs everywhere, making Rose look as weary and annoyed as a face as sweet as hers is capable of looking.

Sheet music is scattered about in the strangest places. Nowhere near the pianos they are meant to be played on. Art, yet to be placed, leaned carefully against walls…much like he is now. It smells of weed, and incense. Teakwood and odd the spices he adds too much of into recipes that turnout delectably nonetheless.

And again, dogs — everywhere. Driving Rosebud crazy and keeping her in great company all at once. They love him endlessly, and he receives that love with equal enthusiasm. Angelic, kind soul that he is and has always been.

There’s a garden, producing in abundance that he proudly guided you through earlier in the evening, insisting you carry a basket to pluck whatever bounty you saw fit as the sky shifted into brushstrokes of amber and amethyst. It had filled your heart with happiness until it positively ached…all that love. Sam, eager to feed his family. You are family.

And they had constricted your throat, those happy tears, knowing that soon, Jake would carve out a corner in this gorgeous world just for you, and fruit to burst in the mouths of your babies would grow there, too.

Everywhere. Every corner, every chaotic nook and cranny, is Sam, and you adore it inch by inch.

“Thank me?” He shakes his head with a kiszka smirk as the boys break into wild, animated laughter in the front room. “What for, doll? My charm? Wit? Beauty?” He leans in close, conspiracy lighting his eyes, “It’s the beauty, isn’t it?”

A laugh, so honest and full of innocuous light it could only be brought forth from your gentle Sammy, trips off your lips like bubbles popping in a champagne flute, “Your beauty, yes of course! I should’ve brought you a brand new crown.”

“Poor planning.” He mockingly scolds, “However, that’s a first for you, so I’ll let it slide.”

Swatting at him, you swim back into serious territory “But also, thank you for telling him.”

Elaboration, you know, isn’t needed.

His cheeks grow pink, painting him even prettier. “Fuckin’ shut up. Don’t thank me. One of them would’ve told him, I just like being the first to blurt big news. Wanna throw some teacups at the wall again? That was a rush…”

“Leave the lady alone, Sammy,” Danny admonishes as he strides by the hall on his way to the kitchen, all legs and untamed curls on a mission seeking libations, “Let her off the hook. Jake is libel to cause chaos if you keep her away much longer, anyway. He’s agitated already.”

Daniel’s voice trails off as your hand finds Sam’s arm, when what you’d really love to do is pull him into a fierce and grateful embrace, “No, Sammy…they wouldn’t have told him. They didn’t. You did. And I couldn’t find the courage. I was so lost…we both were, and you guided us back to one another. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. Not ever, Sammy.”

Running his palm over the back of his neck he glances toward the voices you both know so well, ensuring you're still truly alone, “Don’t ever make me watch him try to live without you again. Don’t ever hurt him, and don't ever go away. Never again.”

His love for his brother, so deep and wild it feels nearly like a palpable storm, is more evident now than ever

“No,” you agree with a vehement shake of your head, “never again.”

”No,” he parrots back with an intensity that would rattle you if you didn’t understand its roots reside firmly within love, “I hated you once, do you know that? I never would have thought I could…but I did. He was lying in his bunk one night crying for you. Calling out for you like a child for his mother. A wounded child. Inconsolable. He couldn't be calmed down no matter what we did or said. It was like - I don't know, I can’t describe the…agony. The entire bus was choked with it.. I hated you that night. Don’t ever make me hate you again.”

The thought of Jake despairingly mourning is enough to break you into a million splintered pieces, even now that you have soothed those wounds.

“I only did what I thought was best.” You offer weakly, “I thought I was saving them…that it meant more. Them, I mean. What they have. I thought it meant more than however badly it would break my heart to leave.”

A look of shock flashes in his eyes, “It does mean more, doll. That’s why this works…Josh knew. I can’t be sure, but I figure he felt it — Jake's love for you, and it just wiped the slate clean. This works because of this crazy untouchable connection they share, not in spite of it.”

You’re staring off, soaking it all in, and he allows you a moment to digest before coming in swinging with something that has always been the truth, you just failed to notice, “You can’t break them. You wouldn’t have then, and you won’t now. They are soulmates in a way none of us will ever be able to understand. Does that make sense?”

And yes, it does make sense… but you aren’t quite sure why it took this moment, and their little brother spelling it out, for you to grasp it.

After a stretch of silence, weighed down with contemplation, your fingers tug at his shirt, pulling him close for a hug - oh, how you've missed him “Thank you, Sammy. I will owe my whole, happy life to you. But don’t you get too smug about it.”

His lanky arms snake around you, yanking you closer still, “Too fuckin’ late. Be extra kind to Josh, his heart broke the hardest for Jake.”

Tears threaten anew, but a voice - familiar as the sun, and every bit as warm - interrupts, “it’s rude to talk about people behind their backs, Samuel, and I could swear I heard my name.”

Without waiting for a response Josh leans in with a peck to your cheek, “Why would you let him tell lies about me, sweetheart?”

Holding him near within a gentle hug you whisper, “Was it a lie?”

“Absolutely not.” He murmurs back, “I couldn’t stand to watch him. Don’t do it again.”

“You don’t have to whisper,” Sammy pushes himself away from the wall with a casual shoulder before sauntering off, as cool as you please, “I know I’m immeasurably incredible.”

“This guy,” Josh’s volume kicks up, eager to be heard, “‘immeasurably incredible’, pretentious dick.”

“Fuck you.” You can hear the smile in Sam’s words as he disappears.

Alone now, you fight to own your vulnerability, “I’m sorry, Josh. That you had to see him that way. That I left the way I did. That—”

The last apology gets caught in your throat painfully, but, of course, he rescues you. “That what, sweet girl? That you chose him? Don’t you dare be sorry for that. Thank you for that. You two? Jesus Christ, never seen anything like it.”

“Yes, but…”

“You give me nieces and nephews to spoil as penance, right?”

“Right?” You giggle, “you’re starting to sound like Jacob with his bullshit British inflection.”

“He’s such an asshole.”

His smile, so infectious, draws one out of you to match.

“I loved you. You know that, right? I loved you so much.”

“I know,” he nods, still grinning, “and you love me still, it’s just changed. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

His embrace, the reassurance in his tone, his easy explanation of things that should seem complicated…they all soothe your frazzled nerves. “Yes, Josh…that’s okay.”

“Good.” After what seems like ages - it has been so, so long - his eyes truly find yours again for just a moment, “I loved you, too. You’ll never know how madly. My sweet girl.”

He cups your cheek so carefully you could weep, “But this right here? You and Jake? This is right and I want to tell you goodbye. I never got to really say it. I’ll see you constantly, but I want to tell you goodbye. I’m sorry if I shouldn’t.”

“No,” your palm searches out his cheek to match his touch, so soft, so him, “no…you should. I mean, I’m glad you said it, I doubt I’d have ever had the nerve. I don’t have very much of it, it seems.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” there’s that kiszka wink…those bastards, “You’re very brave. Very. Now, off I go, and off you go to find my stupid brother.”

“Maybe I’ve changed things.” A gentle hand on his chest keeps him in place. Your honesty shocks even yourself. “Maybe he’s changed in ways we can’t see. Maybe he truly hates us both underneath it all?”

“Well, he’s always hated me, love.” He scrunches his face up and mimics Jake strangling him with his umbilical cord as his twin so often jokes he should have done. “But you’ve always been his muse. Listen to all those songs he penned after you’d gone. You. Are. His. Heart.”

“He wrote them for me?” Whose voice is this? All breaks and cracks.

A smile, like he can’t believe you couldn’t see it for yourself, squints his eyes “Everything is for you.”

With a lingering kiss to your forehead, he’s vanished. Leaving your heart pulsing in admiration and your mind reeling at the marvel of their devotion to one another.

Wandering into the guest room that has been assigned to you, your fingertips trail along the door frame, reliving memories with a wistful upturn playing on your lips.

“Well,” he hums, startling you out of your quiet reverie from his lazy place stretched across the bed. Ankles crossed, hands folded behind his head, grin threatening…he looks like sin come to life, “My sugar looks like she has a secret.”

“No secret, Jakey.” Your heart is full — chalked to the brim with him. If you could store him away in your pocket, safe from the world and all of its misery, you’d be happy to do it. “God, I love you.”

“Baby,” his cheeks color so endearingly your chest could crack wide open, “I love you more.”

With a shake of your head while you close the door and flip the lock, you challenge, “Impossible. Too drunk to drive your girl back to our place, Jacob? Not very rock and roll.”

He jerks his chin at you in lieu of a response “C’mere.”

Climbing onto the bed, you hitch your dress up around your thighs, and in a blink, his palm -the prettiest necklace you’ve ever seen- is wrapped around your throat.

“You think just because I worship at your feet I won’t fuck you through this mattress like a fucking whore groupie until you ruin my brother’s sheets?”

Cocking an eyebrow, you goad him on in a rasped whisper, “you’re goddamn right you worship at my feet, Jacob. You pray to me tonight.”

His eyes, so warm and drowning in devotion, turn black as oil slick…dilated pupils inking his gaze feral as he recalls the first time those words were spoken between the two of you.

The first time he was allowed the gift of knowing how perfect you felt in his arms. How wholly your body, your beautiful soul that he had yearned to know for so long, accepted and laced around him like you never wanted it to end.

How you changed him and calmed that aching storm of unrelenting need that had raged through his veins since the night you’d walked into his life like a wicked angel. Eyes that seared through him until he feared he might turn to ash on the very barstool upon which he sat. All wild hair and glossed lips he positively burned to touch. An aura that glittered and called his name. A breathtaking siren beckoning him into raging waves. He’d have been happy to drown.

Hand tighter still, his forehead touches your shoulder, nodding against it in tender defeat “I have always prayed to you, sugar. Carve the heart from my chest, you’ll find your name engraved there. I am a branded man.”

It spins your head and robs you of thought, all that love he holds out in his hands for you. Leaving the only syllables you can currently call upon to fall in line inside a breathy, “Jakey….”

“Right here, baby. Your Jakey’s right here. What do you want?” He presses slow, wet kisses against your neck, lingering at your pulse point when words fail you. “Tell me, pretty girl. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Let me give it to you.”

You catch his stare with a pure and absolute veneration to match his own, “Down you go, baby. Be a good boy and pray.”

They’re obscene, lascivious and filth laden, those words dripping off your tongue like syrup sent to make his teeth ache, but he hears everything inside them - everything you are. Everything he is. everything you are together.

“Yeah?” There’s that evil, cocky grin you would wage wars to earn, “Pretty little girl wants my mouth, does she?”

With a firm grip curled into the buttoned satin he’s barely wearing, you guide him down, down, down, until his eyes are searching yours, cast upward with a devotion that makes the knots in your stomach cinch tight.

“Yes, pretty girl does,” you’re trying so desperately to remain in control, but you’re sure he clocks the tremor in your demand “but ask nicely first.”

“Yeah? You want me to beg you to feed it to me? C’mon, love, where’s my sweet sugar? All whimpers and moans and big beautiful doll eyes?”

His mouth finds the insides of your thighs slick and perfumed in the sweet and earthy scent that is you, kissing and mouthing, licking through pleas of muffled “Let me taste you. Need it so badly…” and a murmured against your skin, “God, I swear I think I’d actually kill for it. You smell so good..you smell like my fucking girl,”

“Say please.” Your taunts are drenched in love, hands twisting in his hair, dragging him away when he moves in too closely, when he tries to take what he wants.

“Please, sugar,” he sounds despondent, proving how desperately he wants to devour you. His eyes, widened almost submissively, and swimming with hunger, stare up at you through kisses, willing you to grant him the permission he so deeply longs for. “Please baby, let me have you. Right in my mouth pretty girl. I just wanna kiss and lick and suck on you until—”

“Shut up,” your order is fat full of love as you cut him off and bury him in, “just let me fuck your mouth…it’s so good, baby..feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He tugs your panties to the side with the softest laugh. Cocky fuck “you like it that much? Filthy girl. You want me to eat this pretty pink cunt so badly you’re willing to get all pouty and mean for it?”

“Do it,” you whine through your authority, “Jake, please…”

He groans against you, vibrations reverberating through your swollen clit like an obscene sonnet. With words, muffled and slurred into your dripping pussy, quiet he remains, eyes blazing up at you as you writhe and claw at the pillow beneath your head…he doesn’t need you to hear him anyway, he needs you to feel.

Spoiling you with his soft, wet tongue, he spreads you open tenderly and sends you reeling with a gentle suck, slipping two fingers inside.

“Shh, I know, baby girl..I know.” he hushes when you grow needier and just a smidge too noisy. “Tastes so fucking good. So pretty with your sweet little pussy in my mouth. My baby, all wet and gorgeous, fuck.”

You twist in the sheets, thighs trembling around him, tickled by his tangled locks.

“C’mon sugar,” his voice is so soft you scarcely register it, “be my good little fuck doll and give it to me.”

He seeks out that perfect, tucked away place inside of you, curling into it just right to steal your breath. “That’s it, isn’t it, sweetheart? Right there. There we go. Almost there, aren’t we? Good girl. Good fucking girl, baby, yes…”

Mindlessly, you nod feverishly, eyes squeezed tightly shut, mouth fallen open, reminding him he’d like to fuck it. “Just like that,” he sighs, happy to watch his favorite show, “soak my fucking fingers for me, little girl. Come on, do as you're told.”

With that, you break, grabbing at him and yanking his hair into your shaking fists as you thrust and grind greedily against him while he nuzzles in ever further…hopeful that it might last forever while his hand darts up to quiet your cries.

When you’re pushing him off, fighting through overstimulation, he snaps “I’m not done tasting this pretty fucking cunt. You’re gonna lie back and let me lick you as long as I want to. Do you understand? You’re gonna be a good little girl for me, and you’re gonna let me take what’s mine. Don’t fucking whine.”

He pecks and sucks at you softly, careful of how swollen and sensitive you are. Making love to your pussy and thighs with his searching tongue and kisses until you exhale a deep breath of bliss.

“Good boy,” you breathe down at him, a sated smile playing on your lips when you find yourself with a parting lick against his palm which never left your mouth.

He merely narrows his eyes, tongue tracing that beautiful mouth that has always owned a special place in your heart.

“Fuck you, sugar.” A grin tugs at the corner of the very mouth that stole your soul. “Don’t you ever good boy me. Have you forgotten who owns this pretty cunt?” His lips find your chest, fingers popping the buttons of your dress deftly, “or this lovely heart?” Now his kiss is resting upon yours, barely there at all as he taps your temple, “or this incredible mind? I own you, sweetheart…same as you own me.”

“My jakey…” your smile reaches into your eyes, making them glitter for him, “still not ‘some crybaby bottom’.”

His breath catches in his chest with a shake of his head that sends his hair tossing about messily, “you think about that, baby? When you made me the fuck doll?”

“Jake,” you caress his cheek, soft and nearly trembling with adoration, “I think about everything.”

“I need to be inside you.” He sounds as if bitten back tears are threatening to break him.

“We’ll have to be quiet.” Your fingers toy softly through his waves while your flippant gaze flicks towards the door “loud and drunk or not, your brothers are nosy.”

“Sugar,” god, the way he touches you. As if you’re sacred, as if you might disappear into glimmering nothing if he moves too quickly, “they listened to me cry for you for years. They can listen to me fuck you for a night.”

He pulls a laugh from your lungs, glittering and beautiful, “You’re fucking perverse.”

“I’m perverse?” He laughs back, brushing the hair away from your face, “You fucked brothers, you fucking degenerate.”

“Two down, one to go.”

“Your math is shit, sugar. Danny’s a brother.”

You raise a brow and fire the winning shot, “Oh, did I forget to tell you about Daniel and I?”

“Vile fucking woman,” he smirks wildly and nips at your cheek with his perfect teeth, “I should’ve left you in the suburbs.”

You grin back, but the moment suddenly feels heavy, “You know I was never really there, don’t you? My heart was always with you. I was just a shell. A living, breathing mannequin pretending to be something real. I was nothing.”

His hand finds your cheek and strokes over it as though you are holy, “You could never be nothing, pretty girl. Never.”

Shying away from his praise, you yank his shirt down his shoulders, popping a button or two. “Fuck your fuck doll, jakey. Want it so bad.”

“I love you,” his breath shakes against your throat as he showers warm kisses of devotion into your skin until you shiver. “You’re my gorgeous fucking fuck doll and I love you. My sugar. My sugar, baby, you’re my sugar.”

He tilts his face upwards to soak in your reaction as he bites into you, and clenches your lungs with the worshipful shine you find dancing in his eyes “you’re so beautiful, jake. Thank you for loving me.”

“I don’t love you,” his fingers trace your lips, “love isn’t the word. No one has ever felt the way I feel about you. Not about someone else, not about music, not about god. No one. Ever. My heart met yours and something brand new was born into this great and ancient universe.”

His brow, serious and slightly furrowed, smooths with a nearly silent chuckle, “How’s that for trying to get into your pants?”

“Didn’t work at all.” You giggle back, grip curling into the soft warmth of his hair once again, “I don’t even like you.”

“I can’t stand you either,” he shakes his head emphatically. “You’re obnoxious, and trite, and loathsome to be around. Take the hint, darling. I’ve far better things to do.”

A moan bursts through your smile when he nips into your bottom lip, and with you still tucked between his teeth, he warns, “Quiet down, pretty girl..shh,”

“Jake,” your legs tighten around his waist, yanking his body close to your own, “please, baby.”

Groaning like he is suffering through great pain, his forehead touches your chest as you fight with his belt and reach inside to free his cock “when you beg for me…I, I just…fuck. I’m so hard for you. I just need to be inside. Let me be inside you, sugar. Just let me slide it in and make you feel good. I promise, I’ll be so fucking good for you.”

He is balancing on the edge of soft and the Jake you’ve always known tonight. Grateful to have you here beneath him, desperate to stake his claim. Longing to anoint your body with his kiss, eager to defile you with his cock until tears spill onto your blushing cheeks.

You are his saintly mother of grace, and you are his poisonous whore of filth. He would have you no other way.

“Beg for me, sweetheart…” his hips are rocking now, sending his cock slipping back and forth against you. If he angled his thrust just right, his cock would push right in and god, you want it so badly. “All pretty with that delicious voice of yours, beg for your jakey.”

“Please,” your nails rake over his shoulders until he hisses and sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, “please…I want you to fuck me. Wanna cum. Want you to make me cum. Please, please, please…”

With a finger pressed to your mouth, he hushes you, “there’s my good girl. There she is. Perfect, beautiful, filthy. My little wet doll.”

His fingers tease inside you, drawing the blissful misery out just a little longer for you both “So fucking tight, sugar. Warm and snug. Perfect piece of silken heaven, and all for me. Soaked pretty baby, pouting for my cock.”

“Stop making me wait,” your attempts to temper the whine in your tone fall terribly short.

A swift push fills you completely and he hurries to quiet you a moment too late. “Hush, baby…I know it feels good. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Yeah?You feel me stretching out that little cunt?”

Nodding against his hand, your eyes burn into his…you never want to look away. You long to live here forever, lost in him. Every sense nothing but Jake.

His palm drops away from your mouth and finds your stomach as he kisses you quiet. “I’m going to put a little us right here someday, sugar. A tiny you and me.I want her to have your eyes.”

Lifting your hips, you press your belly into his touch “What if it’s a boy?”

He doesn’t hesitate, “then I want him to have your eyes.”

“Jake,” you’re nearly breathless with the ache in your chest, “I love you so much.”

A slick wink is his reply, bringing you both back around from the daydream, “Obviously. Tell me I’m pretty and that you love my cock, instead.”

“Fuck you!” You squeal with laughter, fighting him off when his fingers curl into your sides, tickling you while he’s still buried within you.

Stealing the thoughts from your head, he begins fucking into you, driving in deeply before pulling almost completely out. He rocks against that perfect spot inside with the pillowy tip of his cock until you’re positively trembling with anticipation, “Please more,” it shakes out of you pathetically, “please…”

Your head drags away from the pillow to rest your cheek against his chest as you fight to stay as silent as you can, and instantly you’re met with his cradling embrace, “I’ve got you, sugar. I’ve got you. Pretty pretty girl…my angel, my baby. I’ve got you. My girl.”

He wants to ask again if you’ll be his girl forever, if you’ll let him watch you walk toward him, bathed in ivory silk, if you’ll take his name because at the end of the day he’s more traditional than he’s ever known. If you’ll give him the babies you’ve imagined together. If you’ll love him when he deserves it, and if you’ll love him harder still when he doesn’t…

But it’s all there in the soft breaths fluttering from your kiss swollen lips…it’s all there.

“You’re close already, sugar.” He tries and fails to hide the smug smile tugging at his lips, “Go ahead baby, you cum pretty for me. You cum on this cock. Cum all over my dick. It’s yours.”

“H—“ the plea stutters in your throat for a blink before you find your bearings, “harder,”

Slamming into you, he gives you exactly what you’ve asked for, hitching your thigh so high you could kiss your knee if he asked to see it, “Let it go, sugar.” His eyes are frantic and wild as they search your own, “c’mon, let it go, give it to me. That’s it…shake for me, gorgeous, right around my cock.”

You’re breaking apart. Exploding silently into pleasure points of light like stars in his sky as he fucks you through it so savagely he is forced to hold you down to keep you from slipping upward and away. Palm cradling the crown of your head to protect it from the headboard.

You hear him, murmuring words of praise, dirty and colored with adoration…you do, you hear him - but you can’t make sense of those beautiful words as your eyes roll and drift closed. And he’s right, you’re shaking for him. Thighs quivering and jerking as you claw at the shirt that’s still somehow hanging from him where you abandoned it.

“Stop,” tears are threatening, the bliss too great. Your heart and cunt too full.

“Color?” His question grits out through his teeth as he fucks and fucks and fucks into you.

“S’too much…” slurs out of you appropriately, as you are so very drunk on him.

“Color?” He is demanding an answer now, and so he shall have it.

“Green, baby…” you yank at his shirt harder still. “Green green green, fuck me.”

His mouth, so soft and searching, suckles your neck sweetly in such contrast to the ruthless snaps of his hips, “you’re the sweetest little thing just before you cum, aren’t you? Squeezing my cock, pulling me in close, whining for me…I love you, sugar. God, I fucking love you.”

“Keep talking,” your plea is shameless…he sounds like a rasping, gravelly god above you, “talk to me, Jake…talk to me.”

With a grind of his hips, he gives you what you want “I’ll talk to you. Until I die. I fucking love you. You’re my whole heart and you’re my pretty little fuck doll and I fucking love you. My pretty girl. You're my sweetness, you’re my sugar.”

“I’m gonna cum,” it chokes out of you soft as a breath, but he hears you and covers your mouth to gently quiet you.

“Me too. Can you feel me?” His brows raise and then lower as he offers you a dirty wink, “all hot and hard inside this perfect cunt? Can you feel this cock throbbing? It’s all yours, sugar. That’s your cock. Yours.”

The longing for him is aching, no matter that he’s pressed against you, that he’s inside you. All those nights you mourned him won’t leave you alone so easily, “I wish we could live like this. Your cock inside me…so deep…so perfect.”

“Yeah?” It huffs out on a hushed laugh “you want me to to live inside this pretty pussy? All safe and warm? Making you cum over and over like you’re about to right now?”

“Yes,” you’re nodding like a mindless puppet “live inside me…make me cum.”

The pads of his fingers find your clit, swirling over it cashmere-soft like he’s trying to coax notes from his beloved. “Let’s go then, pretty girl. Show me how hard you can cum.”

Again, you shatter…nails raking over his scalp as you fall apart as silently as you can.

“Oh, look at you,” his voice drips with restrained need, “quiet as a mouse. Good girl.”

He soothes you further when you begin to whimper and twist beneath him, “Shh, you’re okay. You just breathe for me and let’s bring you back down, sugar. Down down down, just like a feather. That’s so good, baby, just like that…shh.”

Your fingers find his cock, toying with the slick skin as it slips in and out of you, “I want it in my mouth, and in my cunt, and in my ass all at once. Cum inside me, jakey…fill me up.”

“Fuck doll,” he falters, hips halting and pressing, “you love it that much? You love my cock that fucking much? You’re just the dirtiest girl, aren’t you?”

“Your cock,” words struggle through your pants for air, “your face. Your heart. Your mind. Everything. Cum for your good girl. Really deep, baby, fill me up.

“Filthy,” he pants, fucking away at you so fervently he can scarcely breathe. “Can we cum together?”

“Yes yes yes,” breathes out of your chest like his very favorite song.

“Can you give it to me, little girl? Will you?” His inflection is hushed, so inquisitive, stare bathing in you as though he wants to call your name so loudly the whole world will know he’s finally exactly where he belongs.

There’s a hunger there, in those eyes. And you are so unconditionally loved and accepted inside his stare. With him you are adored, and seen, and safe. With him you feel like the whole world and everything inside it.

“Please cum, sugar.” It’s an ordered plea, hushed into your ear. “I need it. I need to feel you. Cum on this cock, fuck doll…it’s yours baby, that’s your cock. Use it. Fuck me back. Hips, baby girl. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

He is lost, panting and whimpering…crying your name and whispering words that make no sense. Eyes darting between your gaze and your mouth before glancing down to where you’re swallowing him up before beginning the dance all over again.

Tighter and tighter you grip his cock. A slick, silken fist sent to render him impossibly hard and helpless.

His name ghosts from from your lips, but he nods frantically, as if you’ve screamed it into the night, “I know, baby. Sugar—” a tremor shakes his shoulders, “I don’t want to cum yet. It’s too good…I don’t want,” he falters, hanging his head against your chest, “I don’t want to stop. You feel so good. You feel so fucking good. I can feel you throbbing around me.”

Your lips find his neck, pressing warm kisses into his warm, glistening skin. “I’m gonna take it all, baby. Every drop…give it to me. Give it to your girl.”

Knocking the tip of your nose with his own. “I love you, pretty girl. I love you so fucking much. I love you so fucking much.”

Eyes drifting closed, you sink under the spell he so easily casts over you and reach upward blindly to slip a finger into his mouth, gasping when his sinful tongue wraps around it.

“Can you feel my cock pulsing?” It slurs around your finger and he sounds lazily drunk on the heavy red wine he favors, “I’m right there, sugar. Tell me where my favorite girl wants it. Where does pretty girl want my cum?”

You clench down on him, ripping a growl from his throat, “Inside, jakey, right fucking inside.”

Fucking you so frantically now, the headboard is sailing into the wall faster and faster, he grabs a fist full of your hair, staring down at you with wild, feral, nearly frightening eyes, “I’m cumming, sugar. Take it, fucking take it. Take it like a good girl. Are you my good girl?”

“I’m your good girl.” You gaze up at him as though he is the only thing anchoring your soul to this world…because he is. “I’m your girl.”

So quietly, with his perfect face buried in the crook of your neck, he finds his end, shaking and panting into your skin until you’re certain he could melt you with a single sweep of his lips.

Holding him tightly against your body, you soothe your palms down his arms and back up again, offering gentle kisses into his hair until you're sure he’s fallen asleep…but he suddenly startles you with a hushed laugh.

“Goddamn, I’m so happy.”

“Baby,” your smile flips your belly and curls your toes. “I’m happy, too. But also you’re crushing me, so get off.”

With another rasping chuckle, he rolls to his side and pulls you close, taking care that he is lying in the mess you’ve both made, and you are resting upon unscathed linens, “What would you like to do tomorrow? Anything you want. Anything at all.”

Fingertips tickling along his forearm you shrug, “This. Lots more of this.”

“Well we can’t just fuck all the time, pervert.” He teases, “Have some self control. How about I take you to breakfast in the morning looking hungover and a mess? Then we’ll go home, shower…fuck. I’ll make some of that coffee you like? The Italian blend? We can look through Zillow and you can pick out your favorite things in your favorite houses. We’ll draw up blueprints that will make no fucking sense, since we have no idea what we’re doing. Fuck some more.”

“Moving awfully quickly, there, Mr. Kiszka.” You sigh with a smile you can’t erase.

“Sugar, were it up to me, I’d knock you up and marry you tomorrow.”

“Ooooh, shotgun wedding!” you giggle, rolling to face him. “How romantic!”

“Well, if there’s no shotgun involved, I’m going to have to rethink this whole thing.” He sighs, “I like my freedom you know, woman. Who needs a ball and chain?”

“Not me.”

He pecks a kiss to your forehead, “Me neither. But something about you makes me so soft, and so 1950’s. I want you to be my wife, pretty girl.”

It steals your breath for a moment, but you find your footing quickly, “Is that a proposal, Jake?”