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“That was,” she says, “wow.”
“I think it might have been all capital letters kind of wow.” I kiss her nose, then her lips. “And I don’t want to stop. I just need a few.”
She laughs and draws patterns on my chest. “It’s one for the books.”
“It’s a three-volume novel.”
Later, we have sex again and finally fall asleep. I’m too exhausted to go again.
I wake to soft fingers tracing the tattoo on my back.
“I’ve created a monster,” I mutter.
“I’m touching, that’s all.” But she sounds satisfied. “This whole tattoo, it’s to do with your arm, isn’t it? Definitely The Divine Comedy.”
“It’s life. That man in Dante’s epic visits hell, purgatory, and paradise. One without the rest isn’t living. To appreciate things, you need to know the others.”
“All this and you really do play guitar.”
“Boarding school. I think I took up guitar as a fuck you to the old man. I’d tell him I was going to join a band, not go into business.”
She laughs. “Did he like that?”
“Not really, but he knew I wouldn’t. Piano was one thing, but the guitar he saw as a waste of time.”
“And your mom?”
“Whatever made us happy, really. But they were empty words on my part. I’m definitely not good enough. It’s the hell of the pleasure, knowing you’ll never be as good as you want to be.”
“And here I thought it was all a way to impress girls.”
I pull her over me and roll us so I’m on my back and she’s on me. It’s a position I’m fast loving with her. Any position is one I’m fast loving with her. Any at all. “There was that.” I give her a long look. “Did I impress you, Perry?”
“You got me here, so yeah.”
She leans down and kisses me and I’m hard all over again. I take her hips, moving her so her pussy slides against me. And she shivers and moans. “More?”
“Yes, Ryder, I want more.”
And I push up into her and we start all over again.
It’s gray in the morning when I get up.
Elliot’s still asleep and I watch her for a long time, just standing there. Her red hair is tangled out over the pillows on my charcoal-colored bedding and her pale skin and one rosy nipple peek out and it’s all I can do not to get back in that bed.
Instead, I go down and make coffee.
I don’t know what happened. I really don’t. But even now I can’t shake the fact it wasn’t just sex.
Sipping my espresso, I check my phone. A message from my mother stating privately everyone’s impressed. And I know I’ll probably get everything I thought I wanted because of Elliot.
Except maybe Elliot.
The best sex of my life that keeps getting better, that’s what it is. And she’s the kind of woman on the surface who is perfection for the image she created for me. The Elliot below? Actually perfect for me how I am.
Perfect, that is, if I wasn’t a fuck up in the way she’s accused me of being. I’ve never had a girlfriend. A relationship that lasted beyond the bedroom and some good times out of it. And here I am, looking at a woman built for relationships, built for the forever thing.
This sex that’s more than sex, this sex that reaches down to the marrow, to cellular level, it changes everything and nothing.
