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“Younger men really are virile.” She shakes her head in wonder, her smile evident on her pretty, flushed face.
“Yup. We can go all night, too.” I hiss when she moves her head down my body and starts to lick my torso, heading down to my dick.
This woman is perfect in every single way.
18
ESTELLE
I’ve no idea how I stumbled upon this man, but I’m not complaining.
We showered after our fuckfest, and he ended up taking me from behind doggy-style, hard and fast.
He’s like the goddamn energizer bunny. His dick never goes down.
Even now, as he sleeps on his back, my fingers tracing small circles over his chest, I can see the sheet tenting down below. He’s beautiful in all his glory. Not only that, he’s been doing everything he said to help me, without hesitation. I’m not the kind of woman that falls in love, or falls hard, but I know that I could fall for him, and that in itself is a breakthrough. Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe I have my head in the clouds, but when he looks at me, it’s like he really sees me. It’s like for the first time ever in a relationship — not that I’d call this one — I’ve finally met my match. And here I was making all kinds of excuses why a younger man was a bad idea. What was I thinking?
I didn’t honestly think that Nevada would be emotionally mature enough, because a lot of men his age aren’t. But there’s a lot more to him than meets the eye. I trace around his body idly, wondering what the future might look like should the road take us that way, and I try to imagine myself as a kept woman. I wait for that trapped feeling to cave in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Remembering all the things about my ex that had me sworn off men for eternity. I try not to think of that asshole for too long, but sometimes the memories come flooding back. He was the first man I really gave my heart to; I trusted him, and he took that trust and crushed it, along with my heart. When he struck me, a piece of my soul slowly slipped away, and even though I promised myself I’d never be that woman, I thought that was all I deserved. A part of me stayed for way too long thinking I could change him, or that I could change to fit his needs. But as I soon found out, it was never me that was the problem.
I stop my tracing to slide my arm out from his body, needing to go pee, but as I do, his hand tightens on my wrist. “That feels nice.”
I wasn’t even aware he was awake, or maybe I woke him up. “I thought you were sleeping,” I whisper.
“I was. Where are you goin’?”
“To pee.”
He lets me go and I slide out of bed, naked, and make my way to the bathroom. Nevada wouldn’t let me slide my pjs on or even his t-shirt, though he did tell me he’d get great enjoyment out of seeing me in his clothes.
I do my business and return to bed. He’s rolled on his side, his head in his hand as he rests on one arm. He’s fully awake now and pats the space in front of him. “It’s cold without you.”
See. It’s shit like that that just gets to the heart of me. I know I should distance myself from him to avoid falling in too deep, but I’ve already jumped in with both feet. We both know this isn’t just sex, though I haven’t admitted anything back to him about any of that, even when he made that admission that it was only me. Did he just say that because we were having sex? Or did he mean it?
I slide under the duvet and tuck it under my arm. I turn to face him. “Sorry if I woke you.”
He smirks. “You don’t ever have to be sorry, Mama. You can wake me up touchin’ my body anytime.” I stare at him, prompting him to ask, “What is it?”
What the fuck happened to the smart-mouthed, lippy broad who kicked his ass at the Whiskey Straight? Why is it when I’m around him all I seem to want to do is tell him everything.
“When you said those things before,” I clear my throat, “did you mean them? Or was it just because you had your dick inside me?”
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You might need to elaborate because I said a lot of shit, all of which I meant.”
I look down. “The part where you said I was yours and you wanted to mark me… by not wearing a condom… And all that stuff about not being with another woman since we met.”
He cups one side of my face. “Want the truth?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Of course.”
“All of it’s true. I am yours. I did mark you — which felt fuckin’ amazin’, by the way — and I don’t tell lies. If I’ve had another woman in between, I would’ve told you. You’re no fool, Estelle. I’m fairly sure you’d be able to tell if I were bullshittin’ you.”
I stare at him, wanting to believe it so much. “You don’t understand,” I whisper. “Why I’m the way I am.”
“So tell me.”
So help me, he straddles one leg over mine, and it feels… like home. I close my eyes and breathe him in, knowing that if I tell him my sob story, he’ll only feel sorry for me and I don’t want that. I don’t want his sympathy, but I do want him to know that I wasn’t always like this. “Let’s just say I had a bad relationship. The guy… hit me, and though I did get away, I stayed for far too long. I may have been able to fight back, but I just didn’t have the confidence to try. He took my trust, the way I viewed men… He took all of that and smashed it to smithereens.” I take a breath. “I believed him when he said I was useless and good for nothing. I’d been hearing that most of my life, even from my mom. I know she lost her marbles in the end, but the bar she set for me growing up to measure men against, wasn’t very high. So I learned to be tough all on my own. I had to be to survive.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “The bastard that did that to you?—”
