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“It is.”
My eyelids grow heavy. My breath evens out.
“I love you, too, babe. More than I know how to say.”
Who needs anything more? Not me.
Epilogue
GRIFF
My boots make almost no noise on the newly tiled floor. I helped lay it two weeks ago, and it’s holding up well. The hum of a blow dryer drowns out the background music. Someone’s singing about bringing someone else home. Two girls who just got their hair done pose in front of a mirror with lipstick marks. When Lauren installed that at the new shop, I nearly choked at the price, but she was right to put it in. Everyone takes a post-cut selfie there.
From the front desk, I see Lauren saying something to Weston, who just took a seat. He started coming here shortly after Lauren moved in with me, but she doesn’t cut his hair. I made—well, maybe demanded is a better word for it—a request that Lauren not cut any other man’s hair. The thought of her digging her nails against someone else’s scalp made me see red.
The day is almost over. Sun’s setting, and Lauren should be closing up shop soon. She spots me, and a smile breaks across her face.
“How’s the gym?” she asks, lifting her face for a kiss. I give her a thorough one that puts color on her cheeks.
“Busy. Mick’s getting real good. I’m bringing in a coach for him.”
“He’s taking the boxing thing seriously, then?”
“Yeah. He’s a natural.”
She sighs. “I just don’t want him to get injured.”
“I know, baby.” I rub her back. She’ll come around, but I’m not going to tell her that her concerns are crazy because they’re not.
“Your hair looks long.” She runs her fingers across the back of my head.
I lean into her touch. “Good thing my wife owns her own salon and can fit me in after hours.”
“Is that why you’re here?” With a smirk, she leads me to the back. She flips a switch, which turns the lights off and some jazz music on.
I settle into a chair and lean my head into the sink.
“Did you have a good day?” she asks.
“It’s good now.” Nails scrape across my scalp. It’s always so intensely erotic that I can’t have it done during regular hours. My hard-on grows. My jeans become tighter. I curl my hands around the arms of the chair so I don’t attack her.
She finishes and dries me off but not from behind the sink. No, she comes around to the front and begins toweling me dry. Her boobs brush my face.
“Your shirt is wet,” I note.
“Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” she lies.
I vault out of the chair and pull her pants down. She’s soaked when I reach between her legs.
“You get this horny for all the men you wash?”
“You’re the only one I’m allowed to wash,” she gasps.
“Damn straight I am.” I turn her around so that she faces the chair. “Better brace yourself, baby, because I’m going to fuck you so hard your eyes cross.”
I don’t give her more than a second before slamming into her wet cunt.
She cries out. “Geez, did you get bigger somehow?”
