Page 8

I press my forehead to hers and close my eyes, inhaling her subtle scent of roses, which I know comes from a lotion not aperfume. I almost stole a tube of it when I was younger and stayed at her house one winter. The smell lingered on everything when I returned home. It helped when my dad would go into a fit, to sit and inhale her scent on my sweatshirt, reminding me there are good people out there and although I may not be one of them, I know there’s good in the world outside those four walls.

“Why did you wait till now to show me how you feel? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I thought you didn’t feel the same way about me. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and make it weird to be around each other. I was scared,” she admits in a small voice. The same voice that she used to coax me out of the closet after a particularly unpleasant evening with my father. The same voice she told me silly ghost stories with during a blackout. The same voice she used to admit that one time, how much she liked me calling her Bambi.

It nearly breaks me, but I don’t allow it. Instead letting it settle in my soul, planting the roots buried deep into my being. Because Bambi was already part of my soul, I just never allowed her to spread as far as I knew she would if I let her. That doesn’t matter now, as all carefully constructed dam breaks, and she floods my veins.

“You should never be afraid of me, Bambi. Never. You can always tell me anything.”

Pulling back, I cup her jaw and relish in the way she presses into my palm, sighing in contentment, eyelashes fluttering against her freckled cheek where they rest before opening to look up at me. The vulnerability there is knee weakening.

I release a heavy breath and shake with restrained emotion for this woman. The woman I’ve been in love with for years. I know if I let this go too far, I’ll risk submitting to her fuck me golden hazel doe eyes. I’ll become weak and stay. I can’t let that happen. That doesn’t mean I can’t indulge before I leave.

I may be the delinquent and her the good girl, but for once in my miserable life I can give in. I can allow myself to experience that tiny slice of happiness I’ve been denying myself for so long. She’ll always be too good for me and me no good for her, that won’t change. But I have to have her at least once, just to know what it would be like.

Giving in to my body’s demands, I seal our mouths together again. Kissing my Bambi with leisurely and explorative strokes. Tasting every part of her and memorizing it for those long nights out at sea alone.

She whimpers and mewls in my arms and my cock strains even harder against my jeans at every sweet sound she makes. I can feel my body pulsing with anticipation and desire, and I let it. I don’t fight it, don’t suppress it. I let it flow and let myself feel for once. And when I feel the urge to pick her up by her round ass and wrap her legs around my waist I don’t hesitate. She comes willingly, latching on to me eagerly and grinding her sweet little body against mine. Her hips notching against mine and rubbing against my hard length.

Fuuuuuck me.

Stepping over to my small kitchen counter I set her ass on the edge and plant my feet, securing my body in the cradle of hers. Her heels hook around my thighs and I keep her pressed close with one hand on her ass. When I lean in, desiring the feel of her perfect tits against my body I’m met with ice cold metal nearly stinging my pec. I pull back with a hiss, growling at the buckles of her overalls.

“I have been wanting to get you out of these things for years.” I tug on the strap for emphasis. “Why must you always wear them?”

The question comes out on a growl as I begin to unlatch the offending clothing. I have the straps undone and off her shoulders, revealing the swell of her breasts under her shirt,hard little points where her nipples poke through, before she can answer.

Fucking perfect.

“My mom used to wear them when she painted. I started wearing them when I missed her and one day just decided to always wear them because I always missed her.”

Her honest and heartfelt answer has my libido slowing just enough to allow me the mental capacity to appreciate her words. She loved her parents, still does, even though they’ve been dead for sixteen years. Whereas I can’t stand mine and wish I’d never met them.

I lean in and press a soft kiss to her lips, lingering there for a moment.

“You’re always so goddamn good and sweet Bambi. I don’t know why you want me when I’m so broken, but I’ll take any bit of you I can get. Because not having you might very well kill me.”

My confession must surprise her because her eyes go wide as I stare deep into them, practically drowning me in the golden orbs, although I don’t know why. Hasn’t it always been so obvious how much she means to me?

“Warren.”

My name is a breathy whisper on her lips and I wish I could hear it every night in my bed while I sink myself inside her. That’ll never happen. All I have is tonight.

The boat sways under a small wave, probably from a passing boat, and Bambi reaches up to hold on to one of the many ropes dangling from the ceiling. The sight of the smooth white fibers twisting around her wrists and fingers reignites my urgent need for her. Watching them slide tightly over her skin and leave a small impression has me groaning out loud.

All sweet and good thoughts are gone as they’re replaced with images of Bambi wrapped in my rope, eyes trusting and accepting, mouth open and waiting for her reward. A.K.A. mycock. The mental picture has said cock twitching and thickening to a painful hardness. My fingers dig into her meaty ass and I lift her, pulling the overalls off and down her body, exposing creamy pale skin, blue and white striped boy shorts, and more freckles.

The overalls and her shoes are disposed of quickly. I don’t want them anywhere near my Bambi while I worship her body and show her what pleasures I can offer her.

I’m back between her legs and pressing my mouth hard to hers, slipping my tongue down her throat and tasting her sweetness. Her arms start to lower from the ropes, but I reach up and thread my fingers through hers, locking them in place within the rope. The combined sensation of feeling her skin and the rope in my hand nearly sends me over the edge. My breathing is labored and I can feel myself shaking. The need to wrap the rope around her perfect fucking body, and keep her immobile and at my will, is nearly overpowering.

“I need you to pick a safe word Bambi,” I manage to say while trying to control my breathing, my face pressed against her shoulder as I fight for control.

I need her to be safe, I need her to know she’s safe with me and I would never do anything to her she didn’t enjoy.

“A what?”

“A safe word. Something you can say in case I get too…rough.”