“How long have you been planning this,” I asked.
He repositioned himself over me, his face directly over mine, all our body parts perfectly aligned. “You mean proposing?”
“Yes.” I ran my fingers through his hair.
“Since high school.”
I snorted. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I. When I stole your poem, I was hoping to impress you. Maybe I wasn’t thinking about marriage then, but I’d finally gotten the courage to let you know how I felt. Of course, it didn’t go so well.”
“You could have just asked me.”
“I could have. You could have told me how you felt about the song too.” He arched a brow at me, telling me I was at fault too. And I was. I’d gone off half-cocked as I often did.
“But,” he continued. “No sense in worrying about could haves or should haves. We’re here now.”
I smiled, but inside, I still felt a whole lot of guilt at how my fears and prickly behavior, as he called it, kept me from having all this for so long.
“Of course, I got tired of waiting for my charm to wear you down, so I did have to finagle things a bit.”
“Oh?” I widened my legs, wanting to feel the velvety tip of his cock against my aching pussy lips.
“The first time we went to the senior center, I arranged for you to be there as well.”
“You did?” My eyes narrowed. “Sinclair let you do that?”
“Sinclair loves me. And you.” He rocked his hips, his dick rubbing against my clit.
I sighed as it sent delicious sensations coursing through my blood.
“I didn’t arrange the bet, but I did agree with you on your premise knowing you and Sinclair would dig in, and eventually, she’d challenge you to prove your side. I wanted to be the guy you proved it with.”
I laughed. “You’re sneaky.”
“I was a desperate man wanting to be noticed by you.”
I grinned. “We did prove our points though, didn’t we? Being fake married wasn’t hard. Not for me anyway. I know I’m not the easiest to live with—”
He thrust, his dick sliding inside of me until he was fully steeped in my body. “I don’t know, you seem easy to me.”
“God, I love your dick,” I said as I grabbed his ass and held him deep inside me.
“I love your pussy.” He kissed me, taking my hands in his and holding them over my head. His blue eyes looked into mine. “If I hadn’t already knocked you up, I’d want to make a baby right now.”
“Before we were married?”
“We’re not married?” he joked. At the same time, I understood he was also saying that even without a ceremony or a legal document, our hearts and souls were merged.
I squeezed his hands and wrapped my legs around his hips. “I’m yours Ryder. Only yours.”
His eyes turned emotional. “You make me so fucking happy when you say that.” He kissed me, and as his tongue danced with mine, his body moved, his dick massaging my pussy walls, building pleasure upon pleasure.
I still wasn’t sure how I’d won his heart, but I knew I’d do anything to keep it. Including continuing my counseling and work to improve myself and my ability to trust, not him, because I trusted him implicitly, but trust myself.
We took our time, resisting the urge to give in to our bodies' need to rush to release. Instead, our pleasure built in slow degrees, higher and higher and higher. His dick felt bigger, the friction more intense with each slow stroke.
As our bodies moved together, I savored the feel of love emanating between us and around us. We were one. I wasn’t alone. I was complete. I was blissfully happy.