Fourteen
His touch is urgent, rushed, trying to tug and pull at the lingerie covering me. He's pushing through the door that's been held shut on him for so long now.
That mouth works its magic down my neck, sucking and nipping. The pleasure ripples up my spine.
"I've been waiting months to taste your skin again. This stupid contraption won't give it to me," he pulls roughly at the material, moving me beneath him, making me giggle.
I push him up and away, onto his back so I'm once again on top. Looking down at him, I thank the stars I'm in this moment again. Something I'd convinced myself I'd never get to experience. He and I in our most intimate forms.
"Maybe if you ask nicely," I tilt my head.
"Please let me bury my face permanently in your boobs," He runs his hands up my hips, "super glue me."
"You missed them that much?" I reach behind me to work the clips open.
"You can't begin to understand," he says.
I pull the lingerie down so my body slowly becomes revealed to him. He can't contain his need to touch, tracing newly exposed skin, his mouth opening in an amazed excitement.
"You're the hottest woman on earth. How did I get you?" He shakes his head.
"I'm a sucker for a man in uniform," I shrug.
He smacks my ass playfully, grinding up into me, physical appreciation of the flirty back and forth.
I've never known two people to get completely naked so quickly. Yet he has his face between my thighs making me moan before I know it.
"Yes," I huff out, my fingers wrapping through his hair.
Both my legs are thrown over his shoulders, tongue punishing my clit, eyes shut as he focuses. The sight is sensational. As he sucks, licks, scrapes his teeth I feel slight concern my eyes will roll into the back of my head permanently. I can't keep them open but I don't want to miss watching him for a second.
He stops my attempts to buck with a firm but gentle hold on my pelvis, his other arm stroking affectionately up and down my thigh.
"Fuck, I love you," I moan out.
His cheeks widen, grinning into my skin.
I'm not mad he doesn't say it back. He doesn't need to. Because he shows me by including his fingers.
"Holy moly," I whisper.
"Stop saying silly things. I'm trying to focus," he kisses my inner thigh, as his fingers pump in and out of me, at expert pace, "I missed your dirty talk. It's adorable."
Adorable? I'd need to smack him for that later. I was aiming for sexy.
"I can't help it," I breathe.
"I really want to savour this. It's been a while," he moves to hover over me, his fingers continuing their deep assault, turning faster with each pump.
Moving my hands up I cup his face and look into his eyes, trying to thrust toward his hand, spurring forth my orgasm.
"Let me hear it, baby," he leans down burying his face in my neck, pressing his body against mine.
His mouth in the sweet spot only he has ever been able to find, the reach of his fingers taking charge of my g-spot. It all sends me spiralling in a climax that ticks the box of earth shattering. I hold onto him, wrapping my arms around him, clinging to him tightly as I cry out his name.
I watch as he looks me over with pride. That he was able to make me do that.
"You're such a dirty cop," I say between chest heaving pants, "that was not very nice cop at all."
"I like to be a combo of both," he presses a soft kiss to my mouth.
"I tried to tell myself my vibrator could do what you do. But it can't," I shake my head.
"Flattery won't get you anywhere," he chuckles.
"What will get you inside me then?" I challenge.
"Honestly not much," he reaches across to his pants, digging through his pockets to fish out his wallet.
"You have a condom on hand?" I raise an eyebrow.
"You think I lost hope that this little holiday my brother booked would lead to this moment? I was prepared the second he said you would be coming. Now I get to make that happen literally," he slides the rubber on.
"I want to say gross. But I'm too horny," I scrunch my nose up.
It's weird. But this was what I missed most about us. We spoke total crap to one another during sex. We joked, laughed, asked random questions. Once he stopped to Google something to prove me wrong.
He was the love of my life.
I hate to imagine what I would have lost had I not come here.
"The feeling is very mutual," he pushes my legs apart.
I stretch my hand out, grabbing his forearm as it tenses. His fists are tight against the mattress either side of me as he penetrates me. As he sinks in I watch him. The way his brows knit together, his mouth tightens, his shoulders hunch.
He's all man. All mine.
"It's like coming home," he whispers looking up at me, "you are home. I love you."
"I love you," I nod, leaning up to take his face in my hands, "you'll always be home for me too."
He twists his face to kiss my open palm, before beginning to move. I anticipated our usual fast and hard romps. But he moves with more passion this time. Slow and deep, taking his time to kiss me and breathe me in.
We work up a sweat slowly, breathy moans echoing one another's. Each move of his hips propelling me higher.
"I love you," I'm overwhelmed.
This is all so new.
He takes my hand, holding it against the fabric of the sheets beneath us, squeezing my fingers between his calloused ones.
Old Rosalie would probably push him off and take charge. She'd force her way to a faster, harder and dirtier rhythm. But this Rosalie is treasuring the slow build up.
This Rosalie wishes she hadn't waited so long to experience making love.
It's glorious. It's like living love in slow motion. Blocking the world out to focus on just him and how he is moving inside of me.
I've never experienced something so intimate.
He keeps his eyes on mine, furthering the connection between us. Communicating with his gaze in a language only we know.
"I'll marry you too," I whisper out, before letting out a low moan.
"Huh?" He stops missing what I said.
Why'd I stop him? Ugh.
"You said I'd be the one you'll marry," I say, "when you ask it'll be a yes."
The smile on his face sends me to the moon. It's never shined that bright before. He leans down and kisses me tightly. Moving our lips as he moves his hips slightly.
When he pulls back he looks down at me.
"I'd ask you this second but stealing Shrivel's thunder would land me in a graveyard," he says, "I want to live this life beside you. I want to watch you walk down an aisle to me all in white, I want to put babies in that stomach, I want to smack your ass in front of the nurses at the retirement home. Then we'll die together in the bed like they did in the movie."
"I should have never shown you The Notebook," I roll my eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes at me," he smacks my thigh.
Here we go. Bad cop is back.
"Or what? You'll arrest me," I arch any eyebrow.
"You're way too pretty for jail," he shakes his head, "I'll have to punish you myself."
I open my mouth for a smart ass reply but he's too quick. He chases offenders for blocks of New York without breaking a sweat. I never stand a chance in a match with him in bed.
He flips me onto my stomach, smacking me hard across the ass. My gasps turn to giggles and he pulls my hips up slightly off the bed.
But those giggles turn to shocked moans as he pushes into me, straddling the backs of my legs.
"I wanted to make love to you. You ruin all my plans," he spanks me again.
Every so often his hand comes down, squeezing and spanking my flesh. He's not just an ass man or a boob man. He can't pick one. He's a 'Rosalie's entire body' man. I'm glad to have the reminder back.
Between thrusts that alternate from slow to a fast drilling which I have to smother my loud moans in a pillow.
I give him another orgasm in return for the pleasure he is providing me. It comes without warning ripping through me. Grasping the bed sheets beneath me, I arch my back up into him, driving him deeper.
"Shit," he groans out.
Wordlessly I convulse, limbs tight until my body goes limp. He doesn't slow. He rides through my pleasure until he reaches his own.
The thrusts pack punch with short sharp bursts, until he's growling out. When he collapses onto me, his chest against my back I sigh in contentment.
"We have to do that again," he mutters out.
"I ruined it," I turn my head to the side to look at him, relishing the feel of his weight still party over me.
"You did," he nods, "I wanted it to be romantic."
"It was," I smile, "but we can do it again."
"I only had the one condom," he winces.
"I'm protected," I shrug.
"I am too. They tested me the other week at work," he smirks.
"Then it's settled. Make more love to me," I smile at him.
So he does. And I ruined it twice more so he can claim 'we have to do it again'. When he wakes me up early to try it again I don't ruin it. I let him show me how much I mean.
When it's time for him to 'return from the hotel' he leaves me breathless with a kiss.
"I'll be home for good soon," he says, "I love you."
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him in close, kissing his face.
"Marry me?" I ask.
"We already said -" he looks at me amused.
"No. After all this is through you get on the plane with me and we go," I interrupt, "we fly to Vegas."
"Isn't that a little spontaneous," he tilts his head.
"You're the king of that," I scoff, "put that bitch in a cell and let's go find an Elvis."
He looks at me for a moment. Contemplating. I don't know if it's my idea or if I'm insane that he's weighing up in that marvellous mind.
"Okay," he nods with a convinced smile, "my answer is yes."
He leaves and I grin. Sitting back on the bed with a goofy expression, filled to the brim with love.
The girl terrified of commitment just proposed and she scored a yes.
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