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I lifted my eyes to his, and those golden-brown piercing orbs held me captive like they always did. When he smiled, my heart squeezed. This man was going to fucking ruin me.
“Yes?”
“Are you mine?”
The sight of him stroking his dick made my legs open and close as I nodded. “Yes,” I almost whispered. “I’m yours.”
“Because you want to be?”
“God, yes,” I moaned, lowering my fingers to my soaking pussy. As sensitive as my clit was, I wanted him so bad I would suffer.
Finally, Beethoven made his way between my legs again. Our lips connected, but I wasn’t able to kiss him back as he stretched my pussy. He didn’t seem to care. He placed kisses all over my face and neck until he was all the way inside.
He gave it to me how I wanted it—rough and slow, long strokes that allowed his head to graze my clit before he slid back inside deeply. While one hand dug into his ass and asked for more, the other clawed at the headboard to keep me from sliding up it. Each stroke rocked my body. Even if I wanted to savor it and not cum quickly, that wasn’t an option. I didn’t just cum; I gushed all over him.
As he released curses and moans of his own, Beethoven wrapped my legs around his waist and softened his strokes. They went just as deep as he picked up a medium pace, but they weren’t as hard. His tongue swirled around mine at the same pace of his strokes, being interrupted at times by moans and whimpers or me calling his name.
Somewhere around the third position, our eyes locked as he slowed his pace. Those gentle strokes had my chin and lips trembling as the sound of my wetness covering him filled the room and mixed with the jazz playlist. When I told him I wanted him to make love to me too, I hadn’t taken into consideration how that would feel within my heart. How careful he would be. How intentional he would be.
My head shook as I snapped my eyes shut and tried to push him away, but that didn’t work.
“Stay with me,” he pleaded, lifting my hands over my head with one of his. “I’m not going to let you leave me in this moment.”
As I pulled in a deep breath, a tear escaped my eye. He kissed it away before kissing my lips.
“It’s okay,” he muttered against my lips before inhaling a shaky breath of his own. “I got you, bae.”
Between his sexy voice, the sound of his pleasure, and how good he felt inside of me, I couldn’t take anymore. Our eyes locked briefly, just long enough for me to tell him I trusted him with me before I was cumming again… and again… and again.
I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone until Beethoven refilled my glass. Quickly wiping away my tears, I gave him a soft smile.
“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.
I appreciated the fact that he asked instead of assuming that just because I was clearly sad I wanted to talk.
After we went several rounds, I figured I’d be out for the night. That hadn’t been the case. I woke up around three in the morning missing my parents, especially Robert Carter, like crazy. His absence in my life was fresher than Mama’s.
Being with Beethoven was bittersweet. I loved being with a man who took care of me and made me feel safe like my father, but at times, it made me miss him even more. And knowing I wouldn’t have Beethoven forever made the low moments feel worse. He was going to be another person to leave me, and I was dreading that already.
I wanted to blame the sex and say it was so good it had me open, and maybe that was the case a little, but more than that—this was a heart issue—a heart issue that I had no clue how to fix.
“I miss my daddy,” I confessed quietly, wiping away a tear. “And my mama.” Chuckling, I sniffled. “And I’m already missing you too.”
He sat behind me on the window bench. Instead of replying right away, Beethoven wrapped me in his arms and looked out at the moon with me. The soft kiss he placed on my neck soothed me, allowing me to melt against his frame.
“I heard this Memphis author say grief is just leftover love. Love you can’t give to someone physically in that moment you miss and want them most.” My eyes closed as I buried his words in my mind and heart. “There’s nothing wrong with being sad, but instead, I think you should be grateful. Grateful that you had two loving parents for as long as you did. Grateful that you’re capable of loving them beyond the grave. I know nothing or no one can take their place, but I’m here, and I’ll hold the space for them—and that love. And I can love on you too.” As I wiped away more tears, I looked back at him. “And as far as you missing me… bae, I’m not leaving you no time soon. I don’t have to leave you ever.”
“But you said you wanted to leave Memphis.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t stay in touch. Besides, that won’t happen any time soon. If you focus on the past, you’ll be sad and depressed. If you focus on the future, you’ll be anxious and worried. All we have is right now, this very moment. And in this very moment, I got you.”
That was true, so I accepted it. Snuggling deeper against his chest, I pulled in a deep breath and tried to focus on this moment. This moment where I had him and I had others to love and be loved by, and I prayed that God would grace me to allow that to be enough.
21
Beethoven
The Next Morning
