Boyfriend for the Summer

That will be soon. She’s been writing almost non-stop since we arrived, filling pages and pages and pages with fiction. She’s going to be brilliant.

I’ve had more gigs than I can handle, and Seph has been at every single one, listening and singing along with my songs. It’s exactly how I dreamed it would be all those years ago when I asked if she would be with me. Because no matter how big the crowd, I get the biggest thrill out of performing for her.

Things have slowed down a little, and I’ve just started to show her the city. My city. Not the touristy parts. The little places that I love. But I’ll admit that it’s a little hard to leave the apartment when she’s here. Because there’s a lot of sex.

We have a lot to make up for, and I don’t think that I’ll ever get tired of sinking into her. Every time it’s a miracle that I do not take for granted.

The song sounds so good on the radio, and the response has been really positive. But this song will never not remind me of the reason that I wrote it. I carry Seph over to the couch and lay her down, pulling up the long, loose dress that she has on.

She laughs, but it’s breathless. “What are you doing? Your song is on the radio.”

“It’s our song,” I growl. “And it’s about me taking your virginity. I think this is entirely appropriate for hearing it for the first time.”

I don’t give her a chance to protest, licking her through the dainty lace thong that she’s wearing. Such a sexy little piece of fabric, and such an annoying barrier when I’m trying to get to my favorite flavor in the world. The only reason I don’t rip them off her is because I’ve destroyed too many pairs of her panties already. I’m tempted to do it anyway, just to hear the moan she makes when I do.

Shoving them down, I ravage her clit with my tongue, diving straight into the patterns that I know that she likes best. There are a few, and I choose the one that’s fast and swirling and never fails to make her come. Loudly. Today is no exception.

“Fuck, you’re too good at that,” she says, panting and arching underneath me.

“I don’t think that there is such a thing.”

Slipping a finger, and then two, inside her pussy, I fuck her with the beat of the song, curling my fingers up and back, thrusting directly across her G-spot. She’s going to come before the end of the song. I guarantee it.

“Oooooh.” Her voice is one long exclamation, and I don’t let up or give her a moment to breathe. Straight up and over the cliff. I love that moment when she falls into climax. Her pussy gushes wetness and clenches my fingers, and I savor the taste of her. It’s always been the best fucking taste in the world.

Her cries echo off the walls of our small apartment, and I wonder for about the hundredth time since we’ve moved in if our neighbors hate us yet. We’re not quiet, and I don’t ever intend to be. I like it when Seph is loud. It lets me know that I’ve done a good job fucking my woman. My woman.

And she is my woman. The glittering ring on her hand tells me that. I proposed the day that we moved into this apartment, and she said yes. Then we fucked on every surface that we could find before we even unpacked any boxes. We’ve waited long enough to be together—no need to wait another six years to make it official. As far as we’re concerned, it already is.

While she’s still limp and shuddering, I switch out positions so I’m on the couch and she’s straddling me. It’s easy to slip inside her, and I curse loudly, because she feels so fucking good. She knows how to grip me, squeezing down on me just the way I like as I drive up into her.

The dress she’s wearing has a deep neckline that teases me with just a glimpse of her breasts, tightening and releasing as they bounce. God, I could stare at her forever.

The song is over now on the radio, but I don’t stop. This is the best celebration that there is. But Seph suddenly slows me, and settles down onto me so that she’s taken my whole cock to the hilt. “Oh fuck,” she whispers.

We don’t use this position often. I need to make sure we do it more. She’s trembling, and I like the way she’s arched back. Impaled by me. She likes it when I don’t hold back. When I take charge and pull us both along into pleasure.

Slowly, Seph rolls her hips, and this time it’s my turn to groan. I’m so deep that the way she moves—that friction and motion is mind-blowing. It brings up pleasure from a deep place. One I don’t often find.