Can't Fix Cupid

He comes with a hard thrust inside me, my name on his lips.

Perfection.

It takes a long time for our breathing to even out and our bodies to return to the ground, but even then, I don’t want to let go. I’m so scared that this will all end. That it will all be ripped away from me again.

I think he senses my hesitation, because his eyes soften. “You’re mine. I’m never letting you go, understand?”

I nod with a hard swallow.

“Good. Let me take care of you.”

He carefully helps my legs disentangle from his body, and then he slips out of me. I make a noise of protest at his departure, and he chuckles. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m not through with you tonight. I’m going to fuck you again and again and again. I’m going to make you come so many times you’ll lose count.”

I shiver. “That sounds acceptable.”

With a grin, he starts lathering up soap to wash my hair. I watch him quietly as he concentrates, his fingers digging into my scalp and stroking my strands. It’s almost as pleasurable as the orgasm he just gave me.

When he’s done with my hair, he washes my entire body, and he’s so incredibly gentle and attentive that it makes my heart swell.

When we’re done, he turns off the shower and wraps me in a towel, helping to dry me off. He pauses when he sees my back. “Damn. I liked it before, but this looks sexy too.”

Frowning, I turn to look over my shoulder and see that, instead of the full red wings tattooed on my back, some of the feathers are now pure, angelic white. Luckily, they’re all flat, no plucking needed.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I’ll get used to the hair too,” he murmurs, fingering a blonde strand.

I step away with a shrug, dropping the towel as I strut into his bedroom. I can feel his eyes on my ass as I go.

“I’m going to dye it back,” I say, before lying down on his bed with a smirk. “After all, pink’s always been my color. I’m a cupid at heart.”

He’s on me in a second, his body draped above me. “You’re my heart, my darling Valentine.”

I beam, my happiness shining out of me. “And you’re mine.”

THE END

Epilogue

Warren

Six months later

“Would you stop fidgeting?”

I look over at Trix and drop the finger from my collar that I’ve been pulling on for the past half hour.

“There are fucking dicks everywhere,” I tell her, as if she didn’t already know.

She turns her head to look, and I immediately reach up to cover her eyes. “Don’t look directly at them,” I snap. “You’ll make them excited. Besides, the only dick I want you looking at is mine.”

She laughs and yanks my hand away, threading her fingers through mine as she settles against my chest. “It’s not so bad.”

I give her a look. She just keeps grinning. She’s enjoying this way too much.

“How do they not get sunburned?” I murmur as I watch the concert. If you can even call it a concert. I honestly don’t know that they’re making music with those instruments they’re holding. It’s just a lot of noise and body parts jiggling.

“I wear coconut oil,” one dude behind me says, answering my question. He leans forward towards me so he can be heard over the cacophony of hand chimes and drums. “It has natural SPF.”