It might have seemed odd to some people that we’d been together this long without saying I love you, but even though I’d known it for a long time, I didn’t feel right using those words until we were old enough for it to truly have meaning and promise.
“Do you love me, Gracie?” I asked when she continued to sit in silence.
That seemed to snap her out of her trance, and she threw herself at me. “Yes! Yes, I love you!” I’d known she would say yes, yet I still felt a sigh of relief trickle out.
I reached into the pocket of my suit coat—we were all dressed up from a fancy dinner—and took out a box I’d been trying to find the right time to give her.
Gracie gasped when I held the box out and looked at it with utter disbelief while her brow furrowed, telling me she was also apprehensive. I knew what was on her mind and strived to settle it.
“I’m not proposing, baby.” Yet. “Just open it.”
Her worry dissipated, and she opened the lid, suddenly vibrating with excitement.
An Irish Claddagh ring was nestled inside, except I’d had the emerald heart replaced with a sapphire because of her eyes. “I’m not proposing tonight. But I am asking you to promise to always be mine. To say yes when the day comes that I ask you to be my wife.”
She bobbed her head, and tears streamed down her face as I slipped the ring on her finger. Once again, she practically fell on top of me, sealing her mouth over mine.
I hugged her tight and didn’t fight her when she kissed me, her hunger clear in the way she tried to devour my mouth. Then one of her hands slid down my shirt, headed for my groin, and I caught it as I gently pushed her away.
Gracie and I were both virgins, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t learned things about myself, about my preferences and needs during sex. And with Gracie, it seemed as if they were magnified. I wanted to dominate her, to make her submit and cry out my name as she came, reminding us both that she belonged to me. And while she screamed in ecstasy, I’d be making sure everyone else knew she was mine too by filling her with my come and putting my baby in her belly.
We’d only ever done some heavy petting and I’d given her orgasms by rubbing her over her clothes—with my hand or the bulge of my very large cock through my pants. I hadn’t let things progress because I didn’t trust myself not to do more. But we’d said I love you. She’d promised to be mine forever. To say yes when I finally proposed. It was finally time to start preparing her.
Holding her hand in an iron grip, I looked straight into her eyes. “I’m in charge when we fuck. Don’t touch, don’t speak, don’t breathe unless I tell you to. And you especially don’t orgasm until I tell you to. Is that clear?” Gracie’s eyes were wide again, but heat had sparked in them and I could tell my words interested her. My jaw firmed, and I narrowed my eyes in warning. “And baby, that includes getting yourself off.” Her mouth fell open a little more, and I used two fingers to gently shut it.
“If you disobey, you’re going to find yourself bent over my knee while I spank you until your ass is cherry red so you remember who you belong to every time you sit.”
I released her hand only to shackle her wrist in my own. “Or maybe I’ll tie you to the bed and show you who’s in control by teasing you until you can’t remember your own name before I decide whether to let you come.”
Gracie panted and squirmed in her seat, and a wicked smile stole across my face. “Does that make you hot, baby?”
She blushed, but after a moment of hesitation, she nodded.
“That’s because you were made for me, Gracie. We’re two halves of one soul.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too, Gracie.”
* * *
18 years old
Graduation Day.
Finally.
I’d waited, been a gentleman—mostly—because I wanted everything to be perfect for my Gracie. She’d almost managed to make me capitulate a few times while we were hot and heavy. I deserved a fucking medal for waiting until we turned eighteen.
My birthday had been several months ago, but Gracie’s was tomorrow. Today, we’d walk across the stage and leave our childhood behind, finally able to be the adults we’d grown into long ago.
Honestly, I could have graduated from high school my freshman year if I’d agreed when they asked me to skip three grades. But I’d refused to leave Gracie. I’d put up such a fit—I was only seven—that my parents had finally realized they’d never be able to separate us, and from that point on, no one tried.