We chased each other onto the battlefield, neither of us soft and both of us violent, feeding into one another a certain kind of anger that I didn’t understand. A thread of fear I couldn’t unravel and a whisper of uncertainty that made my legs quake and voice vanish.
We clashed on that battlefield, riding each other, driving each other, and when we came, we did it together with a tattered groan from him and a breathless moan from me, rippling and falling for long, blistering moments.
Only once we remembered how to breathe and blink did he push onto his elbows, cup my cheeks with strong fingers, and ask his first question: “Do you like living on the sea in the Phantom or would you like to live on land in the house on the hill in Monte Carlo?”
I hadn’t expected such a thing.
I had no reply.
I loved living on the Phantom, but I also wouldn’t be adverse to spending time in the house on the hill. I still remembered how homely it made me feel. How calm and curious I’d been to step inside. The memories were somewhat tainted thanks to his mother, but I could visualise us living there far too easily.
I squirmed beneath him as he quickly hardened once again inside me, his body preparing for another round thanks to certain chemicals in his brain.
“Answer me, Pimlico. It’s important that you answer me.”
He didn’t need to explain why it was important.
His OCD appeared in the most unlikely of places, and sometimes, vanished altogether.
After his cleaning malfunction at the Mercer’s, he couldn’t care less about a little clutter or mess caused by Spot. Some nights, he would play his cello for a few minutes, and others, he’d play for hours. And some nights, he would hold me close and never need a smoke from the marijuana he kept in his bedside drawer while others he’d stand outside smoking for hours.
He truly was an anomaly and totally unpredictable.
Running my fingers through the sweaty hair at his temples, I answered as honestly as I could. “I could live in both. What’s to say we can’t spend a few months on the Phantom and a few months there? Do I truly have to decide?”
He smiled, kissing me. “That’s good enough. I’m of the same opinion.”
Then, as if the conversation hadn’t existed, he thrust up, catching me unaware, making me clench around him.
He didn’t speak anymore—his body did that for him.
He flipped me onto my stomach and climbed inside again, driving me into the mattress with every stroke. His teeth latched onto the back of my neck as his hips arched harder, faster.
I bowed beneath him, my clit pressed against the sheets, finding delicious friction to heat and spindle a second time.
It wasn’t often I came with him for his second release—my body wasn’t nearly as potent as his. But this time, driven upward by his intensity and burning up with questions of my own, I cried out as he bit me harder and spilled inside me.
My pussy clutched his cock, over and over, turning me boneless as well as sweat-misted.
As if he didn’t want to drag out each question, his lips landed on my ear, his chest sticking to my back as I lay on my belly pinned beneath him.
“My second question demands a direct answer, Pim.”
“Okay,” I breathed as he put more weight on me. The heaviness of his body seemed to add heaviness to his question, electrifying the air with anticipation.
Running the tip of his tongue around my lobe, he murmured, “Will you marry me?”
My eyes snapped open. All languidness gone.
I was awake and vibrating and more alive than I’d ever been.
“What?” If I wasn’t pinned beneath him, I would’ve jolted and spun to face him. I needed to see his features, to dive into his gaze, to see if this was truly, truly real. But all I could do was tremble as tears shot into existence. “What did you just say?”
“I said…” He kissed the back of my neck, nuzzling. “Will you marry me?”
“Are-are you serious?”
His teeth latched into my skin, biting sharp in warning. “Deadly. And I need an answer immediately. Don’t make me ask again.”
The commitment in his voice. The utmost pledge in his tone.
It’s real.
I wouldn’t deny I’d been living in a dream and enjoying all my fantasies in one incredible adventure for months. That was more than enough, but some evenings, when lip locked in bed or skinny-dipping in the sea, I did wonder if he’d ever ask me.
If he’d ever feel the need to bind us together officially even though it’d happened organically without the need for a piece of paper or name change.
I’d already sewed my life to his in every way I could. My soul was his whether he wanted it or not. I didn’t need this question but it was also the only thing I’d ever wanted.