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"I'm on the pill, and I'm clean."
"I am too," I said, recalling the test I’d had to take after I’d learned about my ex's tendency to sleep with anything that had a wizardly staff.
"Then come back," she said, a smile in her voice that matched the one dancing in her eyes.
I didn't need to be asked twice. I slid back over her, my weight on my forearms as the end of my cock notched between her legs. "God, April. You're…" I slid in just an inch, the tight wetness enveloping the sensitive tip of my dick and overwhelming my senses. "You're fucking perfect. You're…" Another couple inches, and words were beginning to fail me. "God, so tight. So hot, so…"
She returned something unintelligible, and then we abandoned words altogether, letting our bodies communicate everything we felt.
I worked to maintain a slow patient rhythm, but April's cries spurred me on until I was thrusting into her helplessly, flexing every muscle in my body as the sheer pleasure of feeling her wrapped around me, hot and tight and welcoming, took over every sense I possessed.
I came spectacularly, stars and then blackness washing through my vision at the end, and as I panted, trying not to crush her as I collapsed, I wondered absently if maybe I’d been screaming. The garland was draped over me, and I realized it must have fallen as I finished. "Was I yelling some kind of wizard chant at the end there?" I asked.
April's eyes held a strange look, but a happy smile hid in the corners of her mouth as she pushed the greenery from my head. "No," she said, her hand stroking my neck. "You did say some other stuff though."
I drew my head back. Oh shit. “What?" I wondered what I might have said in a purely unguarded moment that I didn't know about now.
"You said you loved me." Her voice was quiet, and there was a question in it.
I cringed inwardly. I would have liked to have had more control over that particular sentiment. But its spontaneity didn't make it less true. "I think I do," I said simply.
April kissed him softly. "I didn't know it was possible in such a short time," she said. "But I think I do too."
I wrapped her in my arms, burying my face in her soft hair, a kind of happiness washing through me that I hadn’t known was possible.
I slept that night in a deep dark cocoon of warmth and belonging, the kind of sleep that I’d previously thought only saints must be able to achieve. Free from worry, free from pain. And filled with a kind of whole satisfaction I had never experienced before.
19
Sex Swings are Festive … Right?
April
Iawoke early, turning my head to see the comforting side of Callan's broad strong back beside me. I pressed myself into him, tucking my knees behind the hollow of his legs and absorbing the warmth of his skin with my chest as my arm wrapped over him. He grunted in pleasure, but didn't wake up fully, and after a few moments, his breathing was deep and steady again. But I couldn't sleep any more.
The previous night had been overwhelming in some ways, and when Callan had said he loved me, happiness had bloomed in me like a field coming to life after years of drought. But the release I felt at his words was chased by a rapid and fierce worry. I didn't know how a long-distance relationship would work, if it would work. It wasn't something I’d ever tried or wanted. And more than that, I didn't want to leave him. The more I thought about my life in Los Angeles, the more empty and hollow it felt. Lynn was there, and my mother, but aside from them, my life was an endless run of take-out, television, and loneliness. The town of Singletree had filled my days with warmth, humor, and friendship. How could I ever go back and feel like my life was what it was supposed to be, even if Callan was a part of it?
Suddenly the job I’d worried so much about losing was barely a blip on my radar. The job was what would require me to go back, the job I had been so concerned being with Callan might ruin was something I no longer felt like I even wanted.
I scooted quietly from the bed, pulling on a T-shirt and sweatpants, and popped open my laptop. Filming would resume the next day, assuming Uncle Rob didn't have any bad news to impart as a result of viewing the initial footage. I had only two more houses to do—a small cottage near the town square, and Callan's.
I scanned my email, seeing nothing too worrying until I found Uncle Rob's name in the list of waiting messages.
To: April Hall
From: Robert Hall
Re: Holiday Homes Wrap up
April:
You've done an excellent job. The footage so far is perfect. Nice work.
Please call me Sunday to discuss the showplace home. I have a few thoughts.
-Rob
The showplace home was Callan's. I shook my head, trying to imagine what Uncle Rob's 'thoughts' might entail.
