Perfect Love

by Addison Moore

  “Skyla,” it barely crests my lips in a whisper as I consume myself just staring at her body. I had spent a large part of the past two years getting myself off night after night to her likeness, my mind filling in the gaps of what her body might look like, and I’m damn pleased to see I was spot on, except for the fact she’s infinitely more beautiful naked than I ever could have imagined. I force my eyes shut and let out a groan, trying not to lose it right here before we ever formally get to second base. If I had any pure intent, I left it back on Paragon. Hell, I’ve never had any pure intent with Skyla.

  She unbuckles my jeans, and I muscle both them and my boxers right off my body. I toss the wet mess onto the floor as Skyla’s heated skin grazes over mine. It feels electric as if she’s branding me with her searing flesh. I imagine her name in sizzling letters, flaming across my chest, and I wholeheartedly approve of the burn.

  I sit up and straddle her with my knees, venerating her from this vantage point. The candlelight dances over her skin, enlivening her in a series of golden flames—her skin flickering in spasms like Christmas lights. I trace my finger over her chest all the way down to her belly. She’s here, so perfect in every way, and it takes far more restraint than I ever thought possible to keep myself from weeping like a pussy. I’m losing it on the inside. This is far more than I can take—way more than I ever deserve. I’m the one who cost us everything. I’m the reason we won’t be replicating this effort next week. I’ve got no one else to blame.

  It takes everything in me to push the self-hatred away, shelve it for another day. Instead, I focus in on the last stitch of clothing left lingering between us and run my thumbs along the inside of her panties in an effort to evict them from the scene. Skyla reaches down and helps wiggle them off, her eyes never breaking their gaze with mine. It’s electrifying. You can see the damn sparks flying around the room as the air charges around us. It snaps and crackles as if the flames were cheering us on, applauding our efforts.

  “Come here.” She pulls me down until my bare flesh seals over hers, inch by erotic inch, and I let out a soft groan. Skyla coils her fingers through my hair, pulling and tugging as if it were all she can do to hold on one minute more. She plunges her tongue into my mouth hot and viral, letting me know this party is just getting started. Her breathing grows erratic. She chokes a groan from her throat as if this is too much to bear.

  I’m greedy for him, all of him. The world stills around us as our bodies sway in a rhythm all their own—Logan and I dancing to the beat of our special brand of love.

  I smile through our kisses as I listen in on her thoughts. My dick is ready to burst through its casing, it’s that fucking hard.

  I reach over and grab a condom from Dudley’s pornographic care package, although there’s not one pornographic implication about anything that’s about to go down. This is love. This is beauty in the most perfect sense. I rip it open with my teeth and roll it over myself, slow and easy. Skyla hikes up on her elbows and watches the show. I’d say something stupid, but I don’t dare ruin the moment. If she wants to watch, I’m all for it. Heck, if she wants to help roll it on, I’d be down for that, too—so long as she’s with me, excited as hell to be here like I am.

  Skyla wraps her legs around me as I lower myself onto her body.

  “I love you so damn much,” I pant the words directly into her ear, my chest raging against hers as if we were fighting a war.

  I brush my palms over her chest, down her smooth hips. I don’t hesitate. I sink my hand to where it’s been waiting to be and run my fingers over that heated slick between her legs, warm and wet.

  Fuck. I lurch into her as if I were in pain. I’m touching Skyla. Touching her. I soak in the moment, just letting my fingers swim around in their new playground. I linger there as if this is my sole vocation on this planet, and I wish to God it were.

  A part of me registers this as a fantasy—as some highly tactile wet dream that I’m going to wake up from in a pool of sweat and come, but it’s far from some nocturnal wandering. This is the real deal in the best way possible.

  Skyla is wet and hot, and I’m dying because I don’t want anything else but to bury myself inside her, my mouth, my head, my dick all at once. I run my fingers over her, slow and steady, and her body writhes beneath me as she chokes out a breath. I feel her folds—memorize how they slip over my fingers, how they touch me as if they’re exploring me, too. I cup her with my hand and let her writhe over me, heated and rushed. My fingers glide over her again before moving down lower. I’m tempted as hell to plunge deep inside her, but the first thing I want penetrating Skyla’s perfect body is another part of my anatomy, one far more worthy to land there in the first place—and eager as hell.

  Our kisses pick up pace as I reach down and guide myself to her. Skyla rakes her nails gently over my back just as I insert the tip. All of gravity presses down over me, demanding I push into her body. Skyla is a magnetic force I can’t fight, one that I’ve been begging to swallow me whole right from the beginning. She presses me in by the small of my back, letting me know she wants this, that she wants it now.

  I push in with a groan that rips from my gut as I penetrate her inch by inch. Somewhere an angelic choir sings, an entire fleet of shooting stars disintegrate into flames over the earth in our honor, so beautiful for a few brief moments just like Skyla and me.

  Her heated body molds over me, tight as a vise, it feels as if I’m ripping my way inside. Her hips rise into me, and she doesn’t scream out in pain, so I go with it.

  Holy fuck. I plunge in deeper, careful and slow while her body does it’s best to choke the life out of my dick, but I don’t mind. I’d give every ounce of my blood to the Counts just to have Skyla choke the hell out of my dick night after night. A brilliant shock of pain grips me as her body squeezes mine. To say she’s tight would be like saying the sun is a little hot or the ocean a little wet. I press in deeper until her body won’t take another inch, and groan into her ear. Skyla lets out a choking sound, and I imagine the tip of my dick touching her vocal cords. I relent a little, and she gives a lazy smile, her fingers digging into my thighs, pushing me deeper still. This is heaven. This is ecstasy.

  “Skyla,” I give it in a heated whisper right into her mouth. My body shakes as I burrow inside her. I let the moment soak in. Here we are, husband and wife, in the truest sense. We’ve created a bond that only God himself can pull asunder. This is it, the apex of our perfect love, our bodies joined as one for the very first time. It was worth the wait, worth every damn thing we went through. She winces, and I pull back an inch. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No,” she chokes it out as if maybe I am. I pull out just enough and glide back, slow and steady. She’s so tight I can’t imagine I’m not killing her on some level. But I want her to like this, to like me inside her, hell—I want her to love it, to crave it. This feels downright amazing for me, and I want it to feel just the same for her. I pull in and out laboriously slow until I feel her body relax beneath me. It’s as if the entire room, the world inhales and exhales around us, all of time bends and shifts with each one of my thrusts.

  “God, I love you.” I pepper her face with kisses as my chest detonates each heartbeat like a nuclear explosion. Swear to God, if I weren’t already dead, this would have long since killed me. I’m losing it, thrust after thrust, picking up steam. My fingers dig into her hips as I release every primal urge within me and let my body go in for the kill like it wants. “Oh shit.” I reach down and roll her soft folds through my fingers, creating small circles over her until she’s right there with me. Her body rocks beneath me as her fingers fly wild through my hair. The room fills with the strangled sound of our breathing, her sweet moans, the cry of pleasure building on her lips.

  Skyla bucks into me, her fingernails digging into my back. She lets out a series of small cries as her breathing grows heavy.

  “Logan.” She knifes her way down my back like long, smooth tracks of razors slitting my skin open, o
ffering my body the relief it needs—the lancing of our love. Every nerve ending is alive, every last part of me demands to be shred to ribbons, and I groan from the sweet pain she’s eliciting. Her body quivers into mine, and I’m right there enjoying the journey.

  “Fuck.” I plunge in one last time and tremble over her, my fingers still trying to lure her into that orgasmic oblivion.

  Skyla seizes. Her body rockets into a series of violent jolts as she wraps her limbs around me, immovable. Her eyes fly open for a moment, clear as a summer sky. Her legs lock over my waist, so fucking tight, it feels like the best damn hug I’ve ever had. We did it. Skyla hit her zenith right along with me, and it was a thing of beauty. I fall over her with my full weight, breathless, exhausted, and ready for anything else she’s willing to gift me. Sweat drips from my brow as we fuse our heated flesh like candles melting together. I wish we were fused. That God himself couldn’t pull us apart. But our souls already are, and I’m not sure how the universe plans on pulling off my death when half of me will still be roaming around this earth, seeing the world through Skyla’s eyes.

  I roll off just enough and try to catch my breath as I settle my gaze over my beautiful wife. The moon washes her pale as paper, and I marvel at the fact she looks like a marble version of herself.

  “Are you okay?” I hike up on my elbows and linger above her. I like this view. I like everything this vantage point affords me. Her hourglass curves, her nipples like proud cherries on top of whipped cream, shouting for my mouth to devour them.

  “Better than okay.” She bites down playfully on her lip. “You made me sneeze.”

  “You did? Bless you.” I press in a quick kiss.

  “My body did.” She wrinkles her nose as if she weren’t too anxious to get into the details. Skyla lifts me gently by the chin and steadies her eyes over mine. “We should have been doing that this entire time.” Her chest vibrates with a laugh, but she won’t give it.

  Skyla’s right. This was love beyond comprehension. Words are too simple to describe the magic that just took place. This was something so incredible, even we had to experience it firsthand to believe.

  I shake my head at the idea. “This was right. The right time.” I pick up the mirrored heart from her chest and land a careful kiss onto it. I press it to her lips, and she does the same. “I want you to remember tonight. When you look at this heart, think of me—of us.” Ironically my heart breaks because I won’t be there to replicate this act time and time again to keep it fresh in her mind. This is it for us—the end of the road—the shooting star that burned up too fast, leaving a trail of dusty memories. When the honeymoon ends, so will we. I already know that, and she claims to know it, too. I hope she truly does understand because I’ll be the last to tell her my days are numbered and that the number can be counted on one hand with digits left over.

  “I won’t have to.” Skyla clasps onto the mirrored heart and touches it to her lips again. I wish I could live in that glass heart, look up at her beauty day after day. At least that way I’d still be with her. “I’ll have you around to remind me.”

  “Skyla,” it presses from me with more than a touch of grief.

  She pulls me up by the chin again and locks those pale, stone eyes over mine. Her hips swivel into my stomach as she rises to meet me, and I withhold the smile waiting to take over. Instead, my hard-on ticks back to life, ready and willing for round two, three, four, and five fucking hundred if she’ll let me. Maybe that’s why the universe is ripping me away to paradise—because I’d never let Skyla get out of my bed. Maybe my death is nothing more than one long fornicating time out.

  “This is just the beginning of our happily ever after, Logan,” she gives it in a broken whisper. “And I won’t hear of anything else.”

  “Happily ever after.” The smile I’ve been holding back stretches over my lips, easy as breathing. “Right here, right now.”

  That was our battle cry right from the moment I saw her. It was instated in that cloistered pool house of Ellis’s, and it’s coming to fruition right here, right now in the best way possible.

  She sighs. And with those words, we exit the end of a very long journey, straight into another.

  I couldn’t agree more. I brush the hair from her face, exposing the rosy glow on her cheeks, and I’m damn glad I put it there. At the same time I’m cracking because as the night progresses, my grief builds like a wave ready crash over Skyla and me and drown us both in the process. I wonder if other newly married men feel this way, feel their impending doom straddling them like an oversized demon ready knock them into eternity and leave their wives a widow far too young.

  Skyla lands her hot mouth over mine, and the demons disappear. Her hand reaches down and strokes through my curls, down to the base of my balls, and I groan. I want to feel her tightness around me again, her loving chokehold that I’ll forever crave. She gives my balls a little tickle.

  I pant a dull laugh into her mouth.

  “Good move.” I dot a kiss over her lips.

  “I’ve got a million, and I plan on using them all.”

  “I’m going to hold you to it.”

  “You should.” She gurgles out a laugh. Her nipples rub over my chest as if campaigning for my attention. “You should hold a lot of things to me.”

  I reach down and pluck the condom off, landing it in a small trashcan by the bed.

  Skyla pulls the sheet over us and climbs up onto my chest. I hold her like that for a very long time in a comfortable silence as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “I love you even more now,” she whispers it into my neck like a secret. She glides up until we’re eye to eye. “I didn’t think that was possible. I feel like we’re connected—that we belong together for all of time.”

  My hand glides up and down her arm. “That’s exactly how I feel.” My lips land over the top of her head. “I wish we had a thousand tomorrows.” Crap. And there I go, bleeding all of my misery around the room.

  “Shh…” She touches her finger to my mouth. “We will. We’re eternal beings.” She shakes her head as if to shake away the grief.

  “Hey, we have right now.” I gently spin her onto her back, straddling her body until my mouth lingers over hers. “Did you enjoy yourself?” I smooth my hands over her perfect tits and gently mold my fingers into them. My insides clench because this is competing for the best feeling in the world.

  “Yes—hell, yes.” Her chest rumbles with a laugh, and I can feel the echo vibrate through my hands. “The question is, did you enjoy yourself?” She bites down on her lower lip, resisting the urge to giggle.

  “Hell fucking yes.” I lean down and take a soft bite out of her nipple before lashing at it with my tongue. I land my mouth over Skyla and lounge there for a small eternity loving her like that before moving on to its twin and repeating the effort. My hard-on ticks back to life, and I want nothing more than to thrust myself inside her—to hear her urgent breathing as she comes again over my body. “You ready for round two?”

  “Are you kidding? I was beginning to think you lost interest in me.” She reaches down to guide me in.

  I catch her wrist and stroke the inside of her palm with my thumb. “I’m not properly suited up for the play.”

  “And that’s what this is for.” She twirls a foil packet between her fingers like it’s been there all along.

  “Are you sore?”

  “Nope.” She winces. “Just a little, but I’m totally not bothered by it at all.” Her expression grows all too serious. “I swear, if you deny me, I will go back in time and kick the crap out of you every single day that we have ever known each other.”

  “Into threats tonight, are we?” I whisper it with a laugh right into her mouth. I’d welcome a beating from Skyla, so long as she’s touching me I’m pretty damn content.

  “Why do I get the feeling that’s the kind of thing that gets you going?” She tweaks my ribs, and I jerk.

  “Everything about you ge
ts me going.” True story. I run my fingers down her belly, then lower still over her sweet spot only to find it hot and wet for me. “I’m in.”

  I take the condom from her, and she snatches it back. Her eyes glow like a cat’s as they catch the flames.

  “I want to.” She rips it open with her teeth as if she were mimicking me, but, holy hell, my dick just turned to granite at the effort. “Like this?” She lays it over me and slowly works it down. My body grinds. My gut twists like a dishrag just watching her touch me.

  “That’s perfect.”

  “This is obscenely tight on you,” she muses, dragging her finger up the back of my dick. “I guess that means you’re packing extra-large equipment.” She bats her lashes up at me, and I can’t tell if she’s being serious or trying to stroke my ego.

  “I like how you think.” I’m not up for correcting her. If she wants to believe I’m exceptionally well hung, I’ll be happy to foster the delusion. “Come here.” I pull her up until we’re sitting side by side. I lean in and plant a lingering kiss over her lips that stretches out far longer than I anticipate. My eyes slit open, and we stare at one another in this dreamy state for a moment. “Get on your knees.”

  “What?” Her eyes widen. “I don’t know.” She shakes her head as if I just suggested we impale ourselves with a burning wick.

  “It’s just a different position. It might help if you’re sore. I swear I’m visiting the same location.”

  She tilts her head. “Okay, but I’m not above serving an eviction if things move in the wrong direction.”

  “I’ll hold strong right where I’m supposed to be—I swear.” I spike two fingers in the air as if to testify.

  Skyla lands a wet kiss over my lips and drags her tongue across my cheek on the way to her knees.

  Hot fucking damn.