Our Forever

by Elena Matthews

  I watch with eager eyes as he quickly dries his cock with a towel before ripping the condom wrapper off with his teeth and sliding the latex over his length—a move that is one part sexy, two parts fucking mind-blowing. I’m filled with excitement when he turns to me with an animalistic dark glare.

  His tall frame dominates me as he steps toward me and swoops me back into his arms with his hands clutched against my bare ass while my legs automatically wrap around his lean waist, locking me to his body. He steps into the shower, pushing me up against the wall. The chill I felt is now replaced with the glorious heat from the steaming hot shower.

  “So, where was I?” he muses innocently before his eyes wickedly dance. “Oh, yes. Destroying that pretty pussy of yours.”

  And he does just that. He destroys every inch until I’m begging for mercy.

  Sated and incredibly fucked, I’m lying in Drew’s arms with my back to his front, nuzzled between his legs, and I simply listen to his breathing while watching the sun rise through the window. The entire room is aglow with hues of gold from the sunrise looking in, and I bask in the serenity it creates. Once we returned from the shower after forty-five minutes of bathroom fun, I wondered why he began opening his curtains, but the moment I saw the hint of orange and pinks breaking through the horizon, I understood. It’s truly breathtaking.

  “You have the most amazing view. It’s beautiful,” I say on a whimsical sigh, taking in the tint of amber intermixed with the fading night sky.

  “It sure is,” Drew agrees with a soft tone to his voice.

  My eyes flutter closed, and the way my skin comes alive with goose bumps at the feel of his whisper against my ear gives me the feeling that he wasn’t talking about the sunrise.

  “It’s almost therapeutic somehow. Peaceful.”

  “It’s surprising how therapeutic it can be. Most of my lyrics come to me during the sunrise,” Drew speaks into my hair while his fingers caress along my arm in a steady motion, lulling me into a sense of pure tranquility.

  Opening my eyes, I smile as I imagine him sitting at the end of the bed, strumming along with his guitar, allowing the words to capture his beautiful soul.

  I find myself mesmerized by the fact that, every morning, I’ve woken up to the same extraordinary sky, yet it’s as if I’ve been blind to the sheer brilliance since the moment my life turned dark, and all I could see was pure black. Until now, colors didn’t seem to exist in my world. I spent the past five years just coasting through my life, barely existing.

  However, after years of being in the darkness, I’m finally seeing the light. Since Drew stumbled into my life with his loud, obnoxious music, he’s been bringing out the vibrant colors from within me, each color more brilliant than the last. Today’s the first day I’ve let myself free-fall into life’s treasures and the unknown, and it’s like experiencing my life with a new set of eyes. I haven’t felt the thrill of anything exhilarating for a long time. I didn’t realize how much of the world I was missing, how much I wasn’t feeling.

  “I can’t remember when I last appreciated the simplicity of a sunrise. I was so focused on the ugly that I forgot how beautiful the world could be.” Even though the words barely come out above a whisper, they slip off my tongue with ease. It’s being in the presence of Drew; he becomes my calm during the storm. That, and I am quite possibly delirious from the three sessions of sex that, at this point, I honestly don’t care what leaves my mouth.

  He presses his lips just below my earlobe while the hand that was gently tracing patterns on my arm is now caressing patterns along the side of my breast. “That’s the beauty of a sunrise; you can trust it to be there for you when you need it to be. It might fade, but it never dies,” he says against my ear.

  I smile as his words absorb through me, and those words confirm one thing—that I’m falling for him. Every day, he continues to chip away at my heart, healing it piece by piece, and right now, I feel another piece of my heart effortlessly slide back into place.

  A comfortable silence envelops around us, and I bask in the perfection of this moment.

  After a while of enjoying the heavenly tingles that soothe through my body at the feel of his fingers absently tracing along my naked breast, his low voice fills the silence, “We broke the number one rule of dating.”

  I tilt my head to look up at him, laughing lightly. “And what’s that?”

  “Having sex before going on a date.”

  My laughter deepens. “I’ve never been one to follow the rules.”

  “You’re telling me,” he teases. “Tattoos, whiskey, sassy attitude. You’re a fucking badass.”

  I giggle. “I kind of am a badass.”

  “Also, you turn into a raging bitch without sugar. I mean, what the hell is that? Is it some kind of off-balanced hormonal diabetic shit?”

  My elbow playfully collides with his rib cage, resulting in a deep belly laugh to rumble from him.

  “You’re an asshole,” I say with a huge grin on my face as I sit up and pivot my body to look at him.

  “An asshole whom you find sexy as hell,” he gloats with an arrogant smirk on his face.

  He’s not saying anything I don’t already know, but I decide to mess with him.

  “Nah, you’re all right, but I’m only interested in your dick.”

  In the blink of an eye, he has me on my back with his cock nestled between my naked thighs, looking down at me with a purposeful gaze, dark and forbidden.

  “Is that so, sugar?”

  I gasp in shock at the feel of his very used cock hardening against me. How he can get hard right now is beyond me.

  I burst out laughing, trying to push him off of me. “Drew, no! My vagina is too tired. You’ve worn her out. I’m probably as dry as a nun’s vagina.”

  His head falls forward, and he buries his face against my chest, shaking with hysterical laughter. I giggle with him, falling in love with his warm, velvety chuckle that resonates along my skin.

  His hilarity eventually lets up, and he looks up with a sparkle in his eyes. “That was, by far, the sexiest thing a woman has ever said to me.”

  I smile at his mockery while I run my fingers through his messy hair that’s still a little damp at the ends. “Seriously though, I need a break. I’ve gone from having zero sex to having it three times in the span of a few hours. My body needs to breathe.”

  I’m not kidding. Downstairs is definitely a little tender with the way he worked my body tonight. I’m not complaining though. I love the way my body aches, that I can still feel the aftermath of him, an erotic reminder that he’s been inside me.

  “Okay,” he simply says.

  He presses his lips to mine for the briefest of kisses before rolling onto his back. He holds his arm out for me, and I accept eagerly, engulfing myself in his warmth as I rest my head against his chest. My fingers seek out the outline of the tattoo I see along his ribs, and I make a mental note to explore his entire body and follow every weave and pattern that’s been beautifully drawn on his skin when my eyes don’t feel so heavy with exhaustion.

  “I love that I was your first since…”

  I tilt my head and look up at Drew, my fingers never slowing their rhythm along his ribs.

  “You can say his name,” I utter softly.

  He thoughtfully smiles, caressing his fingers through my damp hair. “I love that I was your first since Christopher, that I was the first to push through those hardened walls that you’d kept in place since he died. There should never be a day when you’re not worshipped, and I can imagine he thought so, too. There should never be a day when you’re not smiling because, when you do, you’re so fucking breathtaking that it literally hurts to breathe. You deserve the world and everything in it. You deserve forever.”

  I let out a long sigh while my heart constricts in my chest. “I might deserve forever, but happily ever after is bullshit because forever doesn’t exist.”

  “I’d like to put a wager on that.”

 
I stare at him with utter confusion. “A wager?”

  “That I can make you believe in forever again.”

  I cock my head to the side, smiling in spite of myself. “I didn’t realize you were such a Prince Charming.”

  “I am. I’m just a badass Prince Charming with tattoos and a big cock but one who believes that forever is possible.”

  I almost choke on my laughter at the big-cock comment. “Such the modest one, aren’t you?”

  “Never said I wasn’t.” He grins.

  “It’s a lost cause,” I add pointedly.

  “Nothing that involves you is a lost cause.”

  “So, what’s the time frame of this wager, and what do I get if I win?”

  “Six months and a lifetime’s worth of cupcakes,” he says straight off the bat, almost as if he had been prepared for my question.

  I smile before asking my next question, “And, for argument’s sake, what do you get if you win?”

  He trails his finger along my cheek. “I get you.”

  My breathing falters, and I look him directly in the eyes to see only honesty swimming through his sea-blue hues. I fall in love with his answer, and my racing heart only confirms that.

  “Okay, but it’s your loss.”

  “We’ll see, sugar.”

  I hide my grin before turning my head, resuming its comfortable position against his chest.

  After a few moments of silence while I listen to the rhythmic sound of his heart against my ear, a terrifying thought pops into my head.

  “What if Christopher was the only one for me? The one person who was made for me?” As soon as the words escape, I realize that I really am delirious and still a little strung out from the copious amount of alcohol consumed tonight.

  Of course he was the one for me. I wouldn’t have felt the kind of heartbreak I’d been feeling for years if he wasn’t.

  “With the way I’m feeling about you, I know that can’t even be a possibility.”

  And Drew’s response leaves my head spinning.

  Well…there goes another piece of my damn heart.

  As a soothing calm liquefies through me, I close my eyes with a soft smile, and with the way Drew’s fingers caress through the locks of my hair, I find myself falling into a peaceful sleep with only one question in my mind.

  Is forever with Drew a possibility?

  I wake for the second time, but when my eyes flutter open, instead of being greeted with hungry eyes, like I did hours earlier, I find myself alone. I stretch my sore limbs for a moment, letting out a relaxed yawn, and find myself smiling for absolutely no reason, other than I’m ridiculously happy right now. My first thoughts in the morning are usually of Christopher, but this morning, my mind is solely dedicated to one person—the person whose bed I’m waking up in.

  Last night was beyond anything I’d thought I could ever feel again.

  If last night is a sample of what’s to come, then I’m excited to see where this could possibly go. It’s still in its early days. I mean, we haven’t even gone on a date yet, but there is no denying that my heart is already in deep with him, so deep that it’s already at a depth that I can’t even comprehend. The reminder of the incredible night Drew and I shared tells me not to question it but to just go with the flow, go with what feels natural.

  I peel the sheets off my naked body, and when I can’t see a single stitch of my clothes anywhere, I go in search of a T-shirt. I open the top drawer of Drew’s dresser, and I gently laugh to myself when I see on top of the pile a dark blue Captain America T-shirt with the original Steve Rogers running with his shield. I take it out and slip the cool material over me, unable to resist inhaling the incredible smell that radiates from it—a pure citrus, musky smell that belongs to Drew—as it falls just below my thighs. I quickly head to the bathroom to relieve myself and brush my teeth with a spare toothbrush I found still in its packaging in the cabinet.

  Minutes later, I’m padding my bare feet out of the bedroom, and an aroma of something delicious coming from the kitchen hits my senses. I make my way down the hall until I’m halted to the spot at the vision of Drew standing in front of the stove in only a pair of sweatpants that perfectly hug his ass as he’s singing the lyrics of a song I’m struggling to pinpoint.

  However, when I hear the words, “ice cream,” and, “peaches and cream,” my smile grows when I realize he’s singing “Peaches and Cream” by 112.

  “Interesting song choice,” I flirtatiously announce, alerting him to my presence.

  His singing comes to an abrupt stop as he shifts on the spot, turning to me with a slanted smile on his face. His warm eyes lock on me, and the smile he was wearing seemingly falters the moment he takes in my attire. I feel nervous under his intense stare, and my hands anxiously move to the hem of the T-shirt, fidgeting with the cotton through my fingers.

  I’m about to ask him if he wants me to change into another T-shirt, worried that he might not approve or that I might look completely hideous with bed hair, when his husky voice says, “Holy fuck. That T-shirt looks better on you than it does on me.”

  I break out an award-winning smile. “So, you don’t want me to change into something else then?”

  The horrified look he throws my way tells me no. “Unless you were thinking of changing into your birthday suit, then hell fucking no.”

  I softly laugh as I step toward him until I’m only inches from him. “Well, since you ruined the only underwear I had on me, that can be arranged.”

  He grunts with approval, heat smoking in the rich blues of his eyes. “Sugar, as much as I want to see that sexy body of yours, I don’t want a trip to the emergency room because I burned myself on the stove.”

  “You started it, sugar,” I mock before leaning against the countertop. “So, ‘Peaches and Cream,’ huh? Your playlist is becoming more eclectic by the day.”

  He turns his attention back toward the stove and stirs what looks to be scrambled eggs. “What can I say?” he begins, glancing toward me with a wicked smile. “I can’t seem to get last night out of my head.”

  “Me neither,” I respond honestly.

  It’s not just because the sex was mind-blowingly amazing, but it’s also because he’s becoming my game changer, and I feel so unbelievably alive than I ever have. He’s altering the course of my life, and I couldn’t fight it even if I wanted to. He seems to be the light in my dark, and I’m finally learning how to bask in the light. I’m no longer buried under the pain-wrenching depression that consumed me for a long time.

  “You didn’t have to make me breakfast,” I state even though a small part of me loves that he’s making me breakfast. It’s been a long time since anybody has made me breakfast.

  “You sleep in my bed, and I make you breakfast. It’s a deal-breaker for me.”

  “You had many sleepovers that required breakfast?” The curiosity piques my interest, but the question has my stomach tightening.

  “Yeah, but you’re my favorite.” He winks.

  I immediately pale at his comment. I can sense the humor in his words, but the thought of him cooking breakfast for every single girl who has lain between the sheets with him makes me feel nauseous. It’s my own fault, as I shouldn’t have asked the question, knowing girls like Barbie Girl, who I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting, is just one in a long line of women.

  Oh my God, what if I’m one of those women?

  He must see the obvious panic on my face, and his jesting demeanor drops. He turns the burner off, sets the spatula down, and turns to me, bringing me into his arms. “Sugar, I was joking,” he states gently, determining my reaction with a careful gaze. “I’ve only ever cooked breakfast for three women. My mom, my sister, and well…you,” he says with a cute smile tugging along his lips.

  “Really?” I ask, a little shocked while my insides are currently doing a happy dance.

  “Yes, really. Jeez, how many women do you think I’ve slept with?”

  I blush and duck my head int
o the crook of his shoulder. “Do I really have to answer that question?”

  “Yes. I’m interested to see how much of a man-whore you think I am.” He gives me a stern look, but the slight twitch of his lips tells me he finds this amusing.

  I roll my eyes. “Drew, you hardly painted a good picture of yourself when I first moved in. Does Bendy Barbie ring any bells?”

  His eyes crinkle, and his lips twitch again, almost as if he’s trying to hold back his laughter. “Okay, so maybe I’ve allowed myself to be a bit loose with whom I’ve chosen to share my bed with, but the number you’re thinking in your head right now must be way off the mark.”

  “How do you know how many I’m thinking?”

  “Because you wouldn’t be looking at me as if you were my latest flavor of the month.”

  Another blush flushes along my cheeks, and I desperately want to slap my inner curiosity senseless right now for starting this shameless conversation. “Okay. Tell me, is it less or more than thirty?”

  He raises his brow, smiling with disbelief, before shaking his head. “Less.”

  “Less or more than twenty?”

  “Less.”

  I find myself pleasantly surprised with the number drop yet unpleasantly humiliated all at the same time for judging so incorrectly. “Less or more than fifteen?”

  “Less,” he states with a smug look on his face.

  “Fourteen?”

  “Nope.” He shakes his head.

  “Thirteen?” I’m clutching at straws right now.

  “You’re getting closer.”

  “Twelve?”

  “Bingo.”

  I let out a breath of relief just as his fingers smooth along my hips before he glides his hands over my T-shirt-covered ass.

  “You’ve only slept with twelve people?” I clarify, my breath a little choppy from the magical touch of his incredible hands.

  “Yes. You being the twelfth and hopefully the last,” he says without an ounce of hesitation.