Page 65 of Forever Then

A mumbled curse escapes me. “Gretch, it’s like you were made for me. Every goddamn inch of you is perfect. I swear to God it’s never been this good.” My hooded gaze finds hers, satisfaction gleaming, a moment before she spreads her knees wider and grinds down into me, hard.

She slaps a palm on the headboard, leveraging her weight, before she does it again. Her chest hovers above me and I suck her nipple between my teeth, kneading the flesh with my hand. She gasps and it’s my undoing.

The sounds between us are feral: curses clouded by heavy breaths, groans parsed with the sounds of skin slapping skin, I love yous sung to the rhythmic pulse of the bed frame hitting the wall.

Every bit of my need spurs Gretchen on and I hold nothing back. I tell her how good she feels. I kiss her until she yanks her mouth away for air, and when her cries get louder, I’m right there with her.

Her hair tumbles across her face, falling like a curtain around us. I delicately tuck the strands behind her ear then lean all my weight against the headboard and launch my hips up, harder than I’ve dared to try thus far.

“Oh God, yes! There!” she cries as she rocks forward to meet my pace, nails digging into my shoulder. Everything’s faster, harder now, both of us chasing more.

Heat rushes through me. Like gasoline thrown onto a raging fire, shameless lust breathes new life into this love that’s brought us here, leaving me hopelessly, recklessly at her mercy, fully committed to giving her everything— anything —she wants.

Our tempo grows frantic as I arch up into her and she matches me point for point, the weight of our bodies pressing into the headboard to maintain this rhythm. Wood rattles and the bed frame shakes as we close in.

Heavy breaths turn to shouts as she pushes in and down seeking more and I dig my heels into the mattress to give it to her, braced for my own release that is so damn close.

Her orgasm takes her and she shatters. Her fragmented moan splits into a million pieces as it fills every inch of this room, this whole apartment.

She’s a goddamn masterpiece. Stunning and shameless in how she rides out her climax to the very end.

Body tense, thighs clenching, she cries out her agreement over and over and I crest right along with her, coming on a loud groan.

She writhes, rolling her hips to milk every last drop until we reach the other side together, sated, breathless, and completely spent.

Wrecked in the most incredible, life-altering way.

I take her face in my hands and lower her lips to mine. I kiss her with purpose and intensity because no words are good enough.

When I was a kid, well-meaning authority figures waxed poetic about sex being special when you love the other person.

Then, I became a hormonal teenage boy and convinced myself that those people only wanted to make me miserable by telling me to wait.

Soon enough, sex was just…sex. This thing that feels good in the moment, but can leave you feeling empty when it’s over.

But this…

If I had known it could feel like this with the right person, I would have waited my entire life for it .

I would have waited for her .

“I love you so much,” are the only words I manage. They’re everything I want to say and not enough all at once.

“I love you, too, old man.”

After I dispose of the condom and clean Gretchen up with a warm washcloth, we move to the shower. I don’t say anything and neither does she, both of us content to stand and sway in each other’s arms as the warm water rains down over us.

We don’t talk about the fact that she just lost her virginity. Doing so would minimize what we did to nothing more than a milestone checked off a list, something that’s shaped and remembered by the event itself with no regard for the before and after of it all.

That doesn’t do us justice.

Making love to Gretchen wasn’t a milestone.

It wasn’t a bucket-list item. It was the culmination of a thousand puzzle pieces falling into place, a galaxy of stars in perfect alignment, dislodging a trapped coin in a vending machine to finally hear the plink of metal drop into the chamber—all of it adding up to being exactly where you’re supposed to be with exactly the right person.

An hour later we’re in the kitchen. I’m making another batch of pesto mozzarella grilled cheese sandwiches as Gretchen looks on from her perch on the kitchen counter.

Glasses on, her hair is braided over one shoulder.

The sleeves of my college sweatshirt are tugged down past her fingertips, knees tucked into her chest, arms wrapped around them, as her fuzzy socked feet rest on the countertop.

I pull out my phone and snap a picture of her.

“Why’d you do that?” she asks .

Someday I want to show our kids that you’ve always been this beautiful.

“You look hot,” is what I say instead.

We spent the rest of yesterday tangled up in each other, making love as many times as Gretchen’s sore body could handle. Only stopping to nap or eat, we were too consumed with one another to care about watching the fireworks.

Gretchen thrums her fingers on the dining table as she waits for her computer to boot up. I step up beside her and bend low for a kiss.

The selfish part of me wishes I was going with her to talk to her parents, but my brave girl knows her strength and wants to do it on her own, so I put my desire to hold her hand through it aside. Her family deserves this time to themselves to unpack and process everything she’s about to tell them.

“Text me before you leave so I know you’re on the road,” I say with another soft kiss.

“Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up on Sunday?”

She nods against my lips before sweeping back in. When she angles her body toward me to deepen the kiss, I let her because I’m just that weak around her.

“Don’t go to work,” she whines with a pout. “Stay here with me.”

If she didn’t have a pre-interview video-call in ten minutes and I didn’t have an important meeting with my boss first thing at the office, I’d stay in a second.

I bop her on the nose. “I have to go to work”—I flick my eyes to her computer screen—“and so do you.”

She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Whatever. Fine. Buzzkill.”

I swipe my phone and keys from the counter, grab her chin between my fingers, and plant a loud, smacking kiss on her lips. “Beautiful.”