Eighteen
It was early in the morning by the time the pleasure settled to a hum. I lay on my side and watched Christopher sleep peacefully. In his sleep, he reached for me and I came to him. It was automatic, an instinct. I was a piece in the puzzle of him. When I came into his arms, I heard the satisfying sound of all the groves and lines snapping me into place.
I watched his eyes open. When he saw my face he smiled. His lips found mine immediately. It was a light, lingering kiss. He was in no hurry to deepen it, or to end it. He simply sipped at me like I was his morning cup of coffee before a hard day’s work.
“Can I see you tonight?” he asked. “Just to hold you. You’ll probably be too sore for anything else. Now that I’ve held you the past few nights, I can’t imagine you not being the
