Whispered Prayers of a Girl

I drop my head in the crook of her neck and give myself a moment to calm the fuck down. Her muscles clamp around me, and I groan.

“Shit, Gwen, you can’t do that,” I growl at her.

“Please move,” she moans in response, shifting her legs against my hips. “I need you to move.”

Pulling in a deep breath for restraint, I get to my elbows. I keep my eyes locked on her as I slowly pull my hips back, then rock forward again. Dropping my lips to hers, I kiss her as I keep a steady rhythm with my hips. Her whimpers against my mouth and the tightening of her pussy tell me she’s already close, and I thank fuck for that, because I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. We’ve barely begun, but with us both going so long without, it’s impossible for either to last.

I speed up my thrusts and she cries against my lips as I hit a particularly sensitive spot. I home in on it and lift my head so I can see the pure rapture on her face. Her eyes are bright and unfocused, her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink, and her lips are swollen from my kisses and form an O as she pants.

When she tips over the edge and strangles my dick with her channel, I swear I’ve reached heaven. Starting in the base of my shaft, my orgasm hits me hard and fast and has me yelling to the ceiling. My thrusts become frantic as we both ride waves of orgasmic pleasure.

I drop my chest back to hers, making sure my weight doesn’t crush her. We lie there silently, simply trying to catch our breath. Her hands lazily rub up and down my slick back.

After a moment, I lift my chest a few inches and gaze down at her. Sweat dampens her forehead and I push the wet strands away from her cheeks.

“Hi,” she whispers with a shy smile.

The look warms my heart, and I smile. “Hey.”

I kiss her lips, then roll to my side and turn her to face me. Tangling my legs with hers, I put my arm around her waist and tug her a bit closer to me. I know my cum must be leaking out of her, and I’m sure it probably feels awkward, but I’m not ready to let her go just yet. I’ll grab a rag and clean her in a few minutes.

As I lie there in the aftermath of one of the best moments of my life, I wonder how I got so lucky as to meet this incredible woman. This feeling I have deep in my gut is something I never want to relinquish. It’s not the sex talking. It’s something I felt the first moment I saw her, something I didn’t recognize at the time and still have a hard time naming even now.

Love isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for Gwen. It doesn’t even come close. What I feel for her is soul-deep and everlasting, a feeling that scares the ever-lovin’ hell out of me, but something I can’t deny any longer and will hold on to forever.

Chapter 19

Gwendolyn

“Will you tell me about her?” I ask nervously.

The hand caressing my hip stops, and I want to suck the words back in my mouth. I shouldn’t have asked. Now isn’t the time, and even if it was, he may not be ready. Although it’s been four years since they passed, the pain is still very raw. And for all I know, he may not ever want to talk to me about her.

We’re still in bed after our lovemaking. The rain’s still pouring down and the wind has picked up, the former making a soothing rhythm against the roof. I’ve always loved the sound of rain hitting the roof.

I lie with my head on his chest and my hand under my cheek. It’s been thirty minutes since we made love, and I’m still feeling the effects of pure bliss.

I open my mouth to apologize and tell him he doesn’t need to talk about her, but he stops me before I can. His hand starts languidly rubbing circles on my hip again when he starts talking.

“Clara was one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met. She was kindhearted and giving, and so beautiful.”

I remember the picture from his drawer. She wasn’t beautiful, she was gorgeous.

“She had these quirks. Like twirling her hair around her finger. Sometimes I’d find it annoying. Like when we were watching a movie. Her hand would keep going in and out of view, which was distracting. Other times, it would be endearing. She’d be doing it and for some reason, my eyes would catch on it, and I’d sit there for several minutes watching. She could do this thing where she could tie a strand of hair into a knot with just three fingers on the same hand.”

My eyes drift up to him and I see a small smile playing on his face. His expression says he’s far away, lost in memories.

“It was a habit she picked up from her mom and hoped our daughter would pick up as well.”

The smile slowly drops from his face.

“She was cold all the time and always had to have something on her feet. You’d never catch her without at least socks, but most times she had on some form of shoes. She and her family were from Florida, so it was a big adjustment for her when they moved here. I don’t think her body ever adjusted. She hated to be cold. At night, in bed, she’d always warm her icy feet by laying them flat against my calves.” He laughs at the memory.

I love hearing him talking about her. She was such a big part of his life for so long. And I love that their love was so strong.

“She loved cherry filling, like in a pie, but hated real cherries. It was the opposite with coconut. She hated anything with the flavor coconut, but loved coconut itself. She loved altering words. Instead of potato, she’d say tater, and for spaghetti, it was sketti.” His chuckle is quiet when he continues. “She’d get her words mixed up in the funniest of ways too. Like, she would try to say, I’m going to wash the car, and it would come out as I’m going to car the wash. Some were pretty entertaining.”

I laugh lightly and tip my head back so I can see him. “She seems like she’d be fun to be around.”