Denny
I do exactly what she tells me. By the time I slip between our sheets and press her pillow to my face, I want her so badly I can barely think.
I don't know what's going on with me lately. I mean, I always want her, all the time. But this is a desperate want, closer to a need than anything else. Maybe it's because she said yes to my proposal. Ever since she did, this whole future I've imagined for us has been unfurling in my mind, and I can't wait to experience it.
I was sick for so long that I thought my life was over. Even when I realized that I wasn't sick anymore, I didn't think I'd find someone willing to take a chance on me. But she did. She took a chance on me so fast that it made my head spin.
I know she's afraid sometimes, but she's never looked back.
Her pillow is covered in her scent. She uses shampoo that smells like strawberries. There's also a hint of mixed baked goods; the aroma of cookies and cakes and breads always lingers when she comes home from the bakery.
I miss her every second that she's gone.
My phone makes a sound and I grab it from the nightstand. It's her.
Are you touching yourself yet?
I groan, throwing the phone aside and reaching between my legs to grasp my hard length. I'm so frustrated that I can't even decide what to think about as I start to stroke myself.
She flickers through my thoughts in flashes.
Her soft brown hair fanned out over the pillow when she's underneath me. Her warm hazel eyes staring at me, completely full of love and adoration. The way she bites down on her plump lower lip as she throws her head back, begging me to move faster, harder. The curve of her neck when her body arches, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly. Her soft breasts and slightly rounded belly rubbing against me as I bury myself deep inside her.
I think of how hot and tight she always is around me, briefly remembering our first time. My stomach had flipped when she'd shyly told me she had never been with another man, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about that every time we're together.
She's only ever been mine, and she'll be mine for the rest of my life.
I turn over onto my back, pushing the blankets down so I won't make a mess. I let my other hand rest on my chest, right over my scar. She always kisses my scar when we make love. I haven't told her how much I like it, but knowing that she isn't afraid of it makes me happy.
I rock my hips upward, panting as I recall the way her toes dig into my thighs when we're tangled together. The sounds she makes are always completely intoxicating. She starts off quiet and breathy, and then, as she gets closer, she also gets louder; eventually she loses all of the inhibitions she has left and screams my name.
I feel myself slipping over the edge, and I fling my arm over my face, biting down as I finish.
It feels good.
But not as good as when she's with me.
After I clean myself up, I wait for her in the bed just like she asked me to. I try to sleep, but I mostly just toss fitfully, her pillow pressed tightly against my face and chest. I just... ache for her. I want her home.
I finally fall asleep at some point, because when I groggily open my eyes, it's dark outside and she's crawling into the bed with me. I roll over onto my back and she straddles my hips, burying her hands in my hair and leaning down so her breasts are pressed against my chest. I get hard instantly and she chuckles, kissing my scar lightly.
