Chapter Forty-Five

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Chapter Forty-Five

APOV

“So where are we going?” I asked.  

“You don’t know the word ‘surprise’ very well, do you?”  

I was huddled next to him in the cab, and couldn’t really decide where he might be taking me.  I was terrible with surprises; I didn’t have the patience and for anyone other than him, I probably would have been too apprehensive to even go along with it.  Still, it was exciting.  

“Tyler,” I whined.  

“Allison,” he whined back.  “We’ll be there in a few minutes.  Just chill and enjoy the ride.”

So I was forced to just wait in the damn cab for our unknown destination.  When we stopped, it didn’t really dawn on me where we were.  

We got out of the cab, and he took my hand.  “You told me once that you’d rather look up than down.  So I decided to change your opinion.”

“What?”

“When we were on your roof one time—you told me that you liked being up high, but you’d rather look up than down.  I decided we needed to give you the other side to level the opinion field.  So you have more to consider.”  

I was so lost.  One, he remembered shit that I honestly didn’t even remember telling him.  Two, he was always with the thoughtful.  Three, I had no fucking clue what that meant.  

He pointed to the building in front of us.  And I looked up, and then up, and up some more.  It was the fucking Empire State Building.  

“You said you’d never been, so…I thought we should check it out today.”  

I didn’t even know what to say.  I think I pretty much just nodded and let him lead me into the building.  He got the tickets online, so we didn’t have to wait, and even though there were a ton of people, the ride to the observation deck wasn’t really that long.  

Breathtaking.  That’s the only word for the view.  Complete 360-view of New York and from what the tour said, up to 80 miles including New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and Massachusetts.  I thought seeing it from inside was great—going outside, I don’t even have the words.  It’s really fucking windy, but that just meant Tyler held onto me the whole time, plugging endless quarters in the binocular machines so I could see things from every angle.  It started to rain when we were about to go back in, and we stayed out there a few minutes more just to see the rain fly sideways around the building.  Tyler put me in front of him, his head resting top of mine, his body like a jacket around me.  After the first observation deck, we went up to the second, on the 102nd floor and it was just baffling to me that a building could even have that many floors.  It was quieter up there, and we must have spent an hour or more just switching views.  There was almost a peaceful sense here.  Reverent was the word Tyler used.  It was odd to see New York this way without all the noise; to literally see the entire city, and understand the height and not hear any of it.  

I couldn’t even tell you what we really did after that.  We walked around a lot.  We ate hotdogs from a vendor on the street.  Tyler bought me one of those really cliché I love NY T-shirts.  We held hands like they were glued together.  We stole kisses in the middle of sidewalks.  We did nothing.  And everything.  It didn’t even matter.  He was my favorite person to spend time with, my favorite person, period.  

Before I knew it, we were getting ready to leave for the hotel; all of our shit jammed in two overnight bags.  We dressed before we left, and I think we both sort of had that moment of Wow.  I’d never seen him in a suit before, and we were both preoccupied with getting ready that it was only after were done…and seriously, Wow.  

Why did he never wear suits?  He should.  All the time.  

“You look really beautiful,” he said after we were both just kind of staring at each other.  

“Uh, likewise,” I half-stumbled, feeling tongue-tied, and already thinking about how much I really wanted him out of the suit.  

He must have been having the same thoughts, because he cleared his throat and blinked reflexively a few times before saying, “Right, should we go?”  

I nodded dumbly, still just admiring the view.  

He grabbed the bags and jerked his head for me to follow.  “Yeah, we gotta go.”  

~ooOoo~

When we pulled up to the hotel, I thought it had an old-time feel.  Maybe it was entrance and doorman—not that those were odd things in New York, but just the atmosphere seemed both classy and classic.  I liked it.   

We did the whole check-in thing, and he had them take the bags to our room so we could go straight to dinner.  

We sat at a table by the window and it was odd, but I didn’t feel out of place here.  It was what I would definitely consider “fancy” dining, but maybe it was just being with Tyler.  

I think he was more excited about eating here than I was.  He poured over the menu, suggesting things and I think I surprised him when I told him wanted oysters for an appetizer.  His eyebrows went up immediately.  “What?”

“Nothing,” he said smiling, shaking his head.  

“What?” I hissed at him through a smile.  “I like oysters.”  

He shrugged.  “Nothing.  They’re an aphrodisiac.  Just sayin’.”

“What the fu—,” I stopped myself, thinking of our surroundings, correcting, “What is an aphrodisiac?”

Tyler snorted.  “Um, well it’s something that increases desire, or is said to do that.  Like, I dunno, honey, chocolate.  Really it can be anything that someone thinks turns them on, but traditionally oysters have been on the list.  I have no idea why.”  

I smirked at him.  “Jesus, it’s just sex, sex, sex all the time with you, huh?”

“Hey, you’re the oyster girl.”

“I lived in New Orleans.  Crawfish were a food group.  Oysters are like fancy crawfish.”  

“Right, well.  Regardless—still happy we’ll be eating an aphrodisiac.”  

I went back to looking at the menu but said, “I love it when you talk dirty.”

He’d taken a drink and nearly choked and spit it out.  

I ignored him, smiling widely.  “Ohhhh, chicory.  What is this with the chicory?  Duck what?”

“Duck leg,” he said, coughing and smirking at me.  

“Oh.”  

He laughed.  “You wanna try it?  If it’s gross we won’t eat it.”  

“I like chicory.  A place I used to eat in New Orleans had this awesome chicory coffee.  I’ve never seen it on a menu anyplace else.  And especially not with duck.”  

“K.  We’ll get that, too.  What about main course?  Any ideas?”

“Um, no, not really.”  

“Mind if I decide for us?”

I loved when he did that—when I wasn’t sure of something, and really didn’t want to admit that a lot of this stuff I really had no idea what it would taste like or if I’d like it, and really didn’t want to ask about every one.  “That’d be great.”

He nodded once, smiling back at me and I actually have no idea what he ordered because there was a lot of shit in there.  He ordered some kind of wine that was called Relic; I heard that much, and it was exciting to actually be legal and able to just order shit without a fake ID.  

I was full before the main course even started; everything was so good.  Tyler had ordered the same thing for both of us, and I was in love with something other than him.  “Oh my God, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.  What’s it called again?”

“Filet mignon.”

“What is it?”

“It’s steak—beef tenderloin wrapped in bacon with a wine sauce.”

I burst out laughing.  “You sure bacon isn’t an aphrodisiac.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.  Just covering all my bases.”  

“You usually don’t need any help covering my bases.”

“Well, it’s your birthday.  It has to be extra special.  Don’t want to make any mistakes.”  

He was so sweet.  “We need to make this at home, like, all the time.  Also first the wine, now the wine sauce, you tryin’ to get me drunk?”

“Like I said, just making sure all my bases are covered, setting up the best possible outcome.”  

“I never knew you were this insecure,” I teased.  “Usually it’s pretty easy to get in my pants, or dress as the case may be tonight.  I certainly don’t need all of this.” I gestured to the room.  

His smile was soft and warm, just like the room and the lighting.  “You need everything I can give you.”  

“I was teasing.”

“I know.  I wasn’t.”  He shrugged.  “Besides, bringing you here was just part of my master plan to get you to make filet mignon at home.  My life needs more bacon.”

I grabbed his hand over the table, and I don’t even remember what else we talked about, but neither of us let go of each other’s hands until dessert.  

Dessert: needed no introduction or explanation.  It was also not optional.  Molten chocolate cake.  Vanilla ice cream.  Chocolate Sauce.  Seriously.  I was in food orgasm bliss.  And I was so fucking full.  And happy.  And warm in a really cozy way.  Our table felt cozy.  And I think I was kinda buzzed.  

He caught me completely off guard after dessert again.  There was a band playing, and we watched for a while, enjoying the music.  He turned to me suddenly and smiled, asking softly, “Do you wanna dance?”

“What?  No.”

He smiled a little wider, jerking his head a little.  “C’mon.  Dance with me.”

“Tyler, I can’t dance.  Not—not like this.”

“Bullshit.  It’s slow.  Dance with me.”  And he stood up and held out his hand.  Like what the fuck else could I do but get up and go out there with him?  I didn’t even know if this was really a dance floor.  No one else was dancing.  But the minute we started, I didn’t care anymore.  

We never danced before.  I think we were pretty good at it.  I mean, it didn’t take a lot of skill really to slow dance, but we didn’t step on each other’s toes, and…it was nice.  Honestly I couldn’t remember ever dancing with anyone like this.  

The song wasn’t one I knew.  I couldn’t really explain what type of music it was—it seemed like something that would have been played in a place like this.  It was sort of jazzy sounding, but not like a jazz song, really.  It sounded like an older type of song.  

I'm gonna love you, like nobody's loved you
Come rain or come shine
High as a mountain, deep as a river
Come rain or come shine

We started out in a sort of proper slow dance kind of position, but the longer the song went on, and the more I listened to the words, the tighter Tyler held me, and the more I wanted to just hug him back.  

I guess when you met me
It was just one of those things
But don't you ever bet me
'cause I'm gonna be true if you let me

There was no way Tyler knew it would be this song that played.  He never left the table, and I really don’t think it was a song he would have known either.  But it was so fucking perfect, it was almost creepy.  Every single ‘first thing’ in my life that was positive came from him.  

You're gonna love me, like nobody's loved me
Come rain or come shine
We'll be happy together, unhappy together
Now won't that be just fine

His cheek was resting on the top of my head, but I could hear him perfectly even though he was talking really quietly.  “I want to tell you something.”

I nuzzled into his chest, but didn’t say anything.  

“I love you.”

I smiled against him even though he couldn’t see me.  “I love you, too.”

“I know you’re going to just shove this off, too, so promise me that you won’t say anything until I’m done.”

“Ok, I promise.”  

“You’re an amazing person.  You were when I met you, and you are now just the same, but you are not the girl I met in the bar.  You’re like a heightened version of her.  And I mean that in the best possible way.  And I won’t go on and on like I’d like to because the more I say, the more you’ll be rolling your eyes and not believing me, but… I have no claim to any of it, but I just want you to know how proud I am.  Of the amazing things you’ve done and how much you’ve made my life infinitely better.  I can’t imagine you not being in my life.”  

I turned my head up to look at him.  I’m not sure why I was ever surprised anymore that he could still just do that.  Just be normal and dancing and swaying with me and holding me and making me feel like I was the only person in the world, and then just bang out something like that, that I couldn’t even begin to respond to.  I wasn’t even sure I believed it was true, the things he was saying, but knowing that he was proud of me sort of just blew everything out of the water.  “I can’t imagine you not being in my life, either.  And I think all of this is because of you.”

He smiled.  “Nah.  But I’m glad I get to be here to see it.”  

“Me, too.”  

The days may be cloudy or sunny
We're in or out of the money
But I'm with you always
I'm with you rain or shine

~ooOoo~

The view from this hotel room was completely fucking ridiculous.  If the view from the Empire State Building wasn’t enough, this was like having Central Park as your backyard.  It was unbelievable.  I couldn’t believe this day, and I certainly couldn’t believe this fucking hotel room.  

I’d been in my fair share or hotel rooms.  None were like this.  Even the classier places that I’d been in in Vegas were just not even on the same level.  Purpose probably had a lot to do with that too, but this was just so classy.  Elegant.  It felt elegant and warm.

I felt warm.  I felt loved and appreciated and cared for and I didn’t have any words to tell Tyler those things.  Thank you seemed like a really fucking poor choice of words.  It didn’t describe what I was feeling.  It couldn’t.  

He spoiled me.  

This room had to have cost a fucking fortune.  And never in a million years would I have gotten here without Tyler.  I don’t think I even wanted to know what a night here cost.  And that he dropped that amount without a second thought just because he wanted my birthday to be nice.  Nice didn’t cover this.  Special didn’t either.  More completely valueless words.  There couldn’t be a price put on this—for what it meant to me.  

So odd to look out over the city, over the park and not hear any of the noise—just like at the Empire State Building.  Like a vacuum of no noise.  The bed looked like I’d never want to get out of it again, and I didn’t even know there were seven different kinds of pillows.  Tyler urged me to check out the room while he went down to the front desk for something.  He hadn’t told me what it was, and I was too floored by the room to ask.  I hadn’t left the window yet.  I was just completely captivated by the largeness of everything; the day, Empire State, dinner, this room, the beauty here, seeing Doug and Lois tomorrow, the incredibleness of Tyler and me, of Tyler.  Of love.  Of what love was like.  Of what it did to one person, to two people.  How changing it was.  Or how much it changed things, people, everything.  Of how fucking corny and sappy I sounded to myself.  

Tyler.  

If life had a reset button, its name was Tyler.  

Everything was so quiet, and yet I didn’t hear him come back into the room.  I only noticed him because his reflection was staring back at me from where I was glued to the floor.  He had this soft smile on his face, and he was leaning on the doorframe.  Windows weren’t like mirrors, they made reflections hazy and blurry, but there wasn’t anything hazy or blurry about Tyler.  He was as clear as if he was standing in front of me.  

And I was stuck by the feeling of complete, non-overwhelming-ness.  Because good things with Tyler didn’t seem overwhelming anymore.  They seemed natural.  And I think I stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.  He loved me.  There wasn’t a part of myself, body or mind, that didn’t believe that now.  He could have tried to buy his way into my heart with this hotel room the night he met me, but he didn’t.  He used it because he could, at a time when it would be truly special.  

There wasn’t a part of me anymore that didn’t love him back, either.  

I wasn’t afraid anymore.  I stopped being afraid of my feelings.  I trusted them now.  Loving Tyler was the one thing I trusted the most.  

His reflection showed that he’d lost his suit jacket and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and his tie was slightly undone.  Pretty sure I died a little right there when he walked out of the bedroom wearing a suit.  The boy looked good.  And he was dressed up for me.  

I settled on a black, backless dress for dinner.  When he told me where we were going, it seemed silly not to have a new dress.  And a nice one.  I liked it; it was comfortable but elegant, and seemed to fit the atmosphere of this place.  

He looked relaxed, but made for that suit.  He was holding a bottle, and I watched him set it on the table by the door and then walk to the bed and sit down.  

“Did you check out the room while I was gone?”

I shook my head, still facing away from him.  “No, I kinda just stayed right here.”  

“You can check it out later.  C’mere.”

I turned and walked over to him, stepping in between his legs.  I held his face in my hands.  “I love you.  Thank you for everything today.”  

He smiled softly.  “We’re just getting started.”  

His hands started under my dress and started moving it up, his mouth following, kissing after the material; big, open-mouthed kisses that covered my skin.  I leaned into him, my fingers ruffling through his soft hair.  

The material was a little heavy, but still silky as he pushed it up, his fingers so warm and gentle.  Tyler could pour his feelings into his fingers; that’s what it felt like to me.  That every time he ran them over my skin, all the love that he said he felt for me was right there.  

He skipped the zipper on the side of the dress entirely, pushing it until he could pull it over my head, hands dropping immediately to my underwear, shimmying those down as well, adding to a growing pile of clothing on the floor.

It was funny how standing there in front of him completely naked didn’t really feel that way at all.  I think that said something about our relationship, too, that I never felt naked with him.  Or that I felt almost less naked with him like this.  If that even made any sense.  

I decided as I started removing his tie, that they were one sexy piece of clothing that he needed to wear more often.  I made short work of his shirt buttons, too, even with his extremely distracting fingers roaming all over my body.  I got as far as pushing the shirt off of his shoulders and getting his pants undone before he turned me around gently, leaving wet, kissing-licks on my back.  He started pulling me backwards into his arms as he moved back on the bed, his lips bathing my neck and shoulders in a new round of kisses.  

His chest was incredibly warm, or it could have just been that I was feeling that warm.  I loved feeling him this way—the way he seemed so much larger than me; the way I felt completely enveloped in him.  

His fingers were making lazy, unrecognizable patterns all over me, up and down my thighs, swirling around my stomach.  I felt almost light-headed, and it was like every place he touched felt completely amazing.  It tingled everywhere.  And he hadn’t even started on my tits or pussy yet.  It wasn’t like he was teasing me; I knew what he was doing, and it was working perfectly.   The tension alone was incredible.  I finally grabbed fistfuls of the material of his pants to ground myself, my breathing hiking.  I wanted him so badly.  

His mouth was right next to my ear, the feeling of his breath making me shiver.  “Touch yourself.”

I know I moaned.  Loudly.  He never asked me to do that before.  But I was so needy, I didn’t really need to be asked twice, either.  I went straight for my clit.  My nipples were burning with the need to be touched, too, but the second my finger stroked over my clit, the relief was unbelievable.  I bowed away from him slightly, but his hands pulled me back, locking me to him.

Usually, masturbating required a certain amount of fantasy, which of course Tyler himself had basically taught me.  Masturbating when the subject of the fantasies was right behind you was sort of an entirely different sort of thing.  Because I could actually feel him there.  His body was in full contact with mine; his hands were all over me.  His breathing was as choppy and panted as mine.  I pushed back against him, his fingers fanning out over my stomach as I dipped my middle finger inside me, running the pad back and forth through the gathering wetness.  

“Tyler, you make me so wet.”  

His throaty moan and the way I could feel him hardening behind me—this was really, really good shit.  And he was one smart motherfucker.  It was no wonder I loved him so much.  

“Spread your legs, baby.  I want to see you.”  

I complied without any question, throwing my legs over his because I wanted him to see just as much.  

“S’good?”

I only nodded against him in answer, curling my finger deeper inside me while rubbing around and over my clit.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his hands finally starting to massage my tits, his mouth nibbling and sucking at my neck while pinching my nipples enough to make me arch away and shove back at him.  

My hips were starting to arch like he was there between my legs.  “I want you in me,” I managed to get out around the gasps and panted breaths.  

“Come for me first.  I wanna watch you come.”  

I could physically feel the flush all over my skin, the dampness against his chest from the heat I was putting off.  

“C’mon.”

His voice was getting deeper, harsher, and my fingers rubbed faster over my clit, my body locked to him but still starting to squirm and it felt like every part of me was vibrating.  And it felt so…urgent.  The faster I came, the faster I’d have him inside me—like my body was compelling me along because it wanted it as badly as I did.  

I think it was the combination of a lot of things that tipped me over.  My finger was rubbing at a speed and pressure that was designed to make me completely fall apart, but just being with Tyler and knowing he was watching it was something completely else.  The physical part of having him there, participating but still wanting me to do it was sort of mind-blowing.  Then there was the part where his voice kept urging me on, quiet and not commanding, but just…helpfully suggestive in the fucking sexiest way.  His hands on me didn’t hurt, either.  Touching every place except my pussy—that part was my job.  

And if that wasn’t enough, the way he did it all completely tenderly, and how the second I started to come, my body tight before breaking off into a jerky orgasm, he whispered, “I love you,” right into my ear, turning my head to kiss me—I never wanted it to end.

“Fuck me.  Fuck me now,” I said the second my lips left his and my orgasm just barely done.  

I started tugging on his pants, and he lifted his hips to shove them down.  We both gave up halfway through, and he pretty much just shimmied his way out of them the rest of the way.  I felt…jittery, hurried.  I wanted it fast.  I wanted him to fuck me, but the second he started touching me again, that was not his plan tonight.  One hand stayed on my upper body, massaging, caressing; his other finally went to my pussy, his finger lazily stroking up and down the wetness there.  He was deliberate and slow, lapping at my neck, mouthing over where his tongue had been.  It just served to make me want him more.  How he held this fucking level of patience I’ll never know.  I felt like I was going to crawl out of my own skin, the want was so bad.

His fingers curled inside, the heel of his hand directly over my mound.  The constant pressure and feel of it there was exactly what I wanted, and I kept pushing myself up against him, trying to get my clit more contact.  

I tried everything to get him to lose his patience; grinding down into him, pushing up, panting, pleading, moaning until his name just became a whispered whine over and over.  

Then finally, finally he lifted my hips and started to push inside.  

And from the moment I felt my slickness coat him, it was like everything was reduced to just moments; a constant string of really amazing moments.  Maybe it was just my way or processing something so wonderful—of making sense of something that was so much greater than myself.  

My body arching away from him only to crash back against him.  

My fingers digging into the sheets.  

Shared moans, drowned in sideways kisses.  

His hands kneading my tits, rolling my nipples, his cock hard and perfect inside me.  

His mouth nibbling at my ear, breath panted and hot.  

The head of his cock rubbing through my wetness, spreading it, stroking it back and forth between my lips before pushing back inside.  

The way my thighs seemed instantly covered in wetness.  

His hands holding my legs open while he started to thrust, pulling me up, letting gravity pull me down.  

The orgasm prickling down my neck and spine, spreading all over.  Falling again, and again.  

The feeling of my muscles shuddering around him.  

His own release—hot and wet, the way he completely held me to him so the fullness was all I felt.  

Hard and fast was good; this was better.  This was so much better.  Being held, being loved.  So much better.  

Home.  He felt like home.  The only one I’d really ever known.  

Sometimes I still wondered if my need for him was normal.  If what I felt, what I wanted literally all the time was normal.  

The way I always felt wrapped in a blanket of warmth when Tyler held me.  It didn’t matter when; during or after sex was just an added bonus, but his arms meant something else entirely that I never knew was missing until I had them now.  They seemed completely necessary now.  I wouldn’t want to be without them.  The affection and tenderness and kindness; everything that made Tyler the guy I loved was just there, like a seal or mark.  

He moved slightly—more moving me than himself, shifting me so he could see more of my face, but enough that he pushed inside slightly, too.  I smiled, sighing because he was reminding me he was there.  Like his arms and himself and everything wasn’t enough of a reminder.  

I’d been holding onto his arm, but moved down to play with his fingers.  

He peppered my temple with tiny kisses before asking quietly, “Whatcha thinking about so hard down there?”

I shook my head against him, lacing our fingers together.  “Nothing.  Everything.  Mostly just you.”

“What about me?”

I shrugged this time.  “Just how much life has changed with you in it.”

“Yeah?  Better’n with Juan and Oliver and what’s-his-name?”

“Julio.”  

“Yeah, him.”

“Yes.  Much better.”  

“I fucking rock.”

I giggled.  “You really do.”  

He pressed another kiss to my temple—this one much longer and he sighed against my skin at the end of it.  “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”  Even that had changed—my response to him at the beginning would have been one of total terror and apprehension.  

He was quiet for a second.  And I didn’t know if that was because he was coming up with a way to ask it or something else.  

“What’s your favorite vegetable?”

I burst out laughing.  “You fucking dork.”  

He chuckled.  “No, I’m totally serious.”

I chewed on my lip a second.  “Um…carrots.”

“Do you have a favorite color yet?”

“No, that one still changes.”  

“Fair enough.  Favorite place?”

“Your apartment.”

“Favorite memory?”

“Hmm…I have a lot of those.  I dunno if I could narrow it to one.  I love the first night without a condom, the first night we had sex, the first time I made you dinner, the first time you slept in my bed even though it wasn’t a good night for you.  And because of all of that I love the first night we met.  I can’t just say one.”

“Favorite thing to do that’s not me?”

I laughed.  “Sleep.”

He chuckled.  

“Favorite sexual position?”

I was actually waiting for that one.  I pushed back against him, squeezing until he groaned and his eyes fluttered closed.  He swallowed and I latched onto his Adam’s Apple, smirking at the way his hands held me to him.  “Pretty much I love any position where your cock is in me, but if I had to choose, I like it when you take me from behind.  Obviously.  But I like the feeling of you on top, too.  Yeah, pretty much still with the any position where your cock is in me.”  I squeezed him again.  “What’s yours?”

“Fuck.  Same.  Same.  Definitely.”  

He touched my face and turned it up to his, kissing me sloppily.  I think the patience left momentarily, because he lifted me off of him then gently but quickly, and set me next to him on the bed, turning into me immediately and shoving his tongue in my mouth.  

It didn’t last nearly long enough, and then the patience was back.  He moved back slightly, propping his head on his bent elbow and smiled down at me.  His hand was resting between my tits and I loved that for some reason—the familiarity of it; how nonchalant it seemed.  

“Where’s your favorite place to be touched?”

His voice was coarser than it had been, and I giggled at his continued questions when we could be fucking already.  Regardless I answered, “Oh, shit, Tyler.  You have no idea.  Your hands are orgasmic themselves.”  

He laughed.  “You think so, huh?”

I nodded enthusiastically.  “Yes.  I love your hands.  All over me.”  

“But where’s your favorite?”  He watched me a second as I thought about it.  

I mean, how could I narrow it to one place?  Was that even possible?  Did I even have a favorite?  I loved his hands on me no matter where they were, no matter what we were doing.  

“Show me,” he said quietly.  And his hand came up from between my tits and was just there, waiting for me.  Oh, he was good.  Very good.  I took his hand and pressed it against my check, holding it there before moving it over to my mouth and sucking one finger in.  His eyes had been watching mine, but they moved to watch my lips around that one digit.  I smiled when his breathing picked up, although I’m not sure it really ever slowed down completely, but it was definitely noticeable.  

His other fingers tightened on my jaw, and he pushed the finger farther in my mouth.  Of course, I just adjusted and sucked him in farther.  Two could play this game.  I swallowed and scraped my teeth along his finger as I pushed it out.  

He traced my lips and then started on his own, his fingers running from my forehead, over my eyes, his middle finger following an invisible line down my nose and the dent above my lips, over my lips to my chin.  The word erotic came to mind as his hand kept going, tracing down my neck, between my tits, over my stomach.  I can’t even describe the amount of heat that was blazing with his hand.  It felt like he was writing with fire over my body.  Past my stomach his hand turned, pushing downward instead, same middle finger tracing my clit, rubbing, my hips jerking up into his hand like a fucking string was attached between us.  He stroked between my lips, then traced the single finger all the way back up, a trail of my wetness following until his hand was back at my face, same wet finger tracing my lips.  Fucking hell.  

I pulled his head down to mine, letting him taste me on my lips.  I wanted him in me again.  The need was unbelievable.  I started grabbing at him, urging him to get between my legs and he obliged, but positioned himself just low enough that he wasn’t inside me yet.  Hell, it was closer, it was progress.  

The kissing was great.  Long, and involved, our tongues caressing, his running over my teeth.  I pulled his lip between mine, nipping at him.

He pulled back slightly.  “Favorite place to be kissed?”

Ugh.  No more questions!  Instead I answered, “Duh!”

He smiled slightly.  “Which place is duh?”

“Baby, I love your mouth anywhere.  I love kissing you.  I love your lips.  I love your tongue.  I love when you run your tongue over my teeth.  I love the way my lips are always between yours when we kiss.  Does that make sense?”  I hoped it did; I wanted to move it along.  He needed to be in me.  

The smile widened.  “Of course it makes sense.  Where else?”

I whined.  “I love your mouth on my nipples.”

“Tell me why.”

I answered impulsively—but the more he asked, the more this was getting… I couldn’t think of the word.  It was basically just a different kind of foreplay.  One that we didn’t really use.  We teased a lot, we talked, but this was just something else entirely.  “Because you’re never afraid to be rough with them.  And I love that.  I love that you nip at me and take my nipples between your teeth.  Or suck them.  That’s fucking awesome.  Never thought I’d like that but it’s incredible.”  

“Favorite less obvious place.”

Well that eliminated my clit.  Fucker.  He was making me think more about this.  “I love it when you kiss the inside of my elbow, that lil bend here.”  I pointed.  And he immediately complied.  “I love when you kiss my back or the back of my neck when you take my from behind.  It’s just…I dunno, I can’t explain why.  It’s an amazing feeling.”

“I love it when you touch my thighs when we’re having sex.  When you move them or hold them.  The feeling of your thumbs digging in.  The way you kiss my shoulders.”  

I hadn’t been watching him; mostly I’d been thinking while answering, but when I looked back at him, his smile was breathtaking.  Like, seriously breathtaking.  Because it was so many things: love, mischief, pride, gentleness, affection.

He leaned in close to kiss me, hovering just over my lips and then pulled back, making me seek him out before crashing his lips into mine.   

He backed up onto his knees and scooted closer to me, tipping my hips and ran the head of his cock through my wetness again.  

I arched up into him.  “I love when you do that, too.  It’s incredibly sexy.”

“It looks… I can’t even describe to you what it looks like.  Or what it does to me.”  

“Where do you like to kiss me?”  

He smiled.  “Every place I haven’t yet.”  

He slipped inside, easy and slow, curling himself over me.  There was no better way to describe it other than it was like the reverse of what we had before.  If he could hug me from the front and make me feel completely wrapped in him, this was it.  

I felt so close to him—in every sense of that word.  

“Favorite type of foreplay?”  

He relaxed his position, not thrusting at all, and I fucking loved that.  Just having a conversation while he was inside of me—no rush, no hurry, just enjoying the feeling.  

“God anything is foreplay with us, I think.”  

He chuckled.  “Probably.”

“I like cuddling with you, and how it progresses from there.  I like jumping you when you get in the door.  I love when you put your arms around me from behind and kiss my neck.”  

He laughed.  “Sex is on then?”

“Sex is always on.”

He was making slow thrusts, but they already seemed powerful.  My hands were holding onto his neck, my thumbs running along his jaw.  “This foreplay was great.  Surprising.  But you always do that.  Very impressive.  It—”

His lips smashed into mine, our mouths virtually inseparable after he cut off my last compliment.  It all felt like that.  The way he kept his body pressed against mine, but covering me, too.   My legs against him so tightly.  His forehead resting against mine.  

“I love that, too,” I moaned out, shoving myself against him, arching my neck back at his thrust, even if it meant our foreheads wouldn’t be touching anymore.  

“What?  What do you love?”  

“When you put your head against mine like that.”

He pushed in and held it, pressing his forehead to mine again.  “I do, too.”  

He met my lips again gently before kissing my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks, my chin—all the same places his finger had traced earlier—before coming back to my mouth.  I ran my hands over his back, scraping my nails gently before latching onto him when we both came, our lips locked together in this lingering kiss that lasted as long as the orgasms—only the smallest breaths escaped in between.  

I wanted him just as close after, and instead of him holding me, I just guided his head down to rest on my chest instead.  It seemed oddly fitting.  I started combing my fingers through his hair and he started dozing almost immediately.  I loved the feeling of his weight on me, the trust.  

I pressed a kiss into his hair and whispered, “I love you, Tyler.”

He snuffled adorably, rubbing his cheek into me and nuzzling his head into my chin.  “Love you.”  ‘Happy Birthday’ came out, too, but it was half-sleep slurred and also completely adorable.  

“Thank you.”

I stayed awake for a while, just looking around the room: the warm lighting, actually noticing the completely amazingly soft sheets we were on, covering us in the fluffy comforter as much as I could with him lying on me.  I dunno which one of the seven different types of pillows my head was resting on, but I was stealing it—it was fuck-awesome.  What a completely extraordinary birthday.  

I woke up sometime around 3am.  I only know this because Tyler was kissing me awake, already slipping back inside me, and after I moaned out his name, I couldn’t stop giggling when he said, “Wake up, we can order room service 24-hours a day here.  When we’re done fucking again, we can call and order shit even though it’s 3am!”  

He certainly left nothing out.  Extraordinary indeed.

One (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine |  Thirty  |  Thirty-One  |  Thirty-Two  |  Thirty-Three  |  Thirty-Four  |  Thirty-Five  |  Thirty-Six  |  Thirty-Seven  |  Thirty-Eight  |  Thirty-Nine  |  Forty  |  Forty-One  |  Forty-Two  |  Forty-Three  |  Forty-Four  |  Forty-Five  |  Forty-Six  |