Page 18 of Tower (Post-Apocalyptic Fairy Tales #1)

Levi’s expression softens at my earnest declaration. He believes me.

He pulls me into a kiss that starts light and brief. But I grab his head with both hands and hold it in place so I can deepen the kiss.

The kiss lasts so long it eventually gets me going again, despite the intensity of my climax from the spankings. Levi came hard not too long ago, however, so he’s not going to be up for sex again anytime soon.

That doesn’t bother me. I’m mostly just happy to be with him. Exactly like this.

“Okay,” he says after several minutes of kissing, easing me away gently.

“Okay what?”

“Your birthday’s not over yet, and I got an idea.”

Perking up again, I’m smiling as I ask, “What is it?”

He manages to extricate our bodies, lifting me up and repositioning me on his big armchair in his place. Then he strides over to the old sink vanity where I keep the hand towels. He wets one down and grabs the lotion.

I’m staring as he approaches. “You want a foot rub?” I ask rather foolishly since he just told me he was doing something else for my birthday.

He frowns at me as he lowers himself to his knees at my feet. “No.”

I squeal as he grabs one of my bare feet. “Levi!”

“Levi, what?” He’s holding my foot in both hands and smiling up at me endearingly.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t you tell me earlier that you wanted to make me feel good? You think I don’t feel the same thing?”

“I… I…” I’m flushed and gaping. My mind is a giddy whirl. “You already made me feel good with the spankings.”

“So now I’m going to make you feel good in another way.” He shoots me a glance of teasing impatience. “So sit there like a good girl and take it.”

I giggle. Scoot to rearrange myself more comfortably in the big chair. My bottom is definitely sore, and I wince slightly at the friction on my skin.

I forget it soon enough as Levi wipes down one foot and then another with the towel. Then he takes a palmful of lotion and rubs it into the skin on my foot and up my ankle. Then he starts massaging it.

It feels so good I moan uninhibitedly.

“That’s right,” he says. “You relax and let me do this for you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He continues on the first foot, rubbing and pushing into tender spots with his thumbs.

I give quite an embarrassing performance as my body softens.

Soon I’m slouching awkwardly with my leg extended, holding on to the armrest to keep myself on the chair and lolling my head to one side as I groan in pleasure.

When he’s done both feet, he moves up my legs, and that feels even better.

I’ve grown fully aroused again without even realizing it. My hips are grinding on the seat cushion as he works my thighs.

“Slide forward, girl,” he says gruffly.

I don’t actually know what he’s saying or why he’s saying it, but I do as he says, letting him pull me farther forward on the chair until I’m right on the edge.

Then he pushes my thighs apart to expose me intimately to his eyes and the air of the room. He leans forward, nuzzling my groin with his nose and then using his fingers to open me all the way.

I stare down at him, astounded since he’s never done this before. He asked a couple of times early on, and I said no. Not because I don’t enjoy it but because I didn’t think our relationship really allowed it.

But he’s doing it now, using his fingers and lips and tongue to pleasure me.

Despite his gentle mood, he’s actually quite energetic with his mouth. He really goes at it, and it feels so good I collapse backward and cling to the armrests as I moan and babble out about how good it is.

He’s got his tongue all the way into my pussy—thrusting it like his cock—when I grab for his head and hold it in place with a fierce grip. My orgasm is building quickly now. I’m almost there.

He’s making low humming sounds as he works me over, so he’s clearly enjoying it too. He moves back to my clit, sucking hard as he edges one finger inside me. Curls it against my G-spot.

I come hard and loud, clenching all around the one finger. He keeps sucking and pushing until I come a second time.

Then he rears up, grinning ferally as he rises to his feet and then lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him as he carries me over to the bed. When I go down, I pull him with me, and soon he’s gotten his hard cock inside me and is fucking me fast and wild sideways on the bed.

I might come again, but everything is feeling so good I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference. We’re both making loud, choppy sounds as we rut, and I’m crying out with what feels like victory as he freezes and shakes and moans through a powerful climax.

He comes inside me with several hard spurts, and I love it.

I love everything.

When he’s ground his way through every last surge of his release, he collapses on top of me. I collapse too.

We’re wheezing and clinging to each other, and both of us are so sweaty it’s ridiculous.

But nothing could have given me a better birthday than this.

It takes a while for us to recover, but we eventually get up to go downstairs to the bathroom before we settle for the night.

Levi is worried because he came inside me accidentally, but it’s not the time of month where it should be a problem, and our lovemaking meant too much to me for me to regret a single part of it.

I sleep for hours without waking up, and then when I do, Levi is sound asleep on his side of the bed with both arms out of the covers. One hand is clutching the coverlet in his sleep, and the other is slung haphazardly above his head.

For some reason, the sight of him sleeping like that constricts my chest with feeling. I smile over at him like a sap for a while until I scoot over and fit myself against his side.

He mutters something incomprehensible and lowers his arm to wrap around me, pulling me tighter against him. After a minute, he does that under-the-breath muttering again. This time I recognize a word.

Sweetheart.

I’m still smiling as I fall asleep again.

The next time I wake up, it feels like it’s been several more hours. I blink a few times and sense a difference in the room.

The difference is Levi. He’s awake. I know it even before I tilt my head to peer at him groggily.

His eyes are open and gazing at me.

I smile, and he smiles back.

“Good mornin’,” he drawls, using his arm to nestle me against him again.

“Hi. Is it already morning?”

“Just about. We got forty minutes or so till it’ll start getting’ light.”

“Did you sleep good?”

“You know I did. I didn’t snore, did I? Slept like the dead.”

“No. You didn’t snore. You did a little bit of muttering but not much.”

“Muttering, huh? What was I sayin’?”

“I couldn’t get many words.” I pause before I add, “Although I did hear sweetheart at one point.”

“Musta misheard that.”

“I don’t think so. I think you must’ve been dreaming about me.”

“Not likely. Think I was dreamin’ of my Harley, not my Hailey.”

I giggle at his dry tone and the wordplay. I love when he’s in this mood. And I love that he’s only this way with me. “You call your motorcycle sweetheart?”

“Sometimes. When she’s real good.”

I spill over with fond amusement, hiding my face against the side of his chest as I laugh. “Fine,” I manage to say when my giggles have faded. “I thought I was your sweetheart, but I guess I was wrong. Hailey is a sad second place to Harley.”

He draws my face up high enough for him to press a kiss against my mouth. “You are second place to no one, girl. But you already know that.”

“Why would I know that? You just said you call your motorcycle the same name you call me!”

Maybe I’m pushing a little. Teasing but pointing it out intentionally. Because I want to hear him say a few things I suspect but have never had confirmed.

He feels open right now. He doesn’t have on the grumpy quills he wears like armor against vulnerability. And after last night, I’m not sure how I could genuinely believe he’s not feeling things for me he hasn’t yet put directly into the traditional words.

It’s fine. It’s all good. I’m happy. I know what I know, and I feel what I feel. I’m secure.

But still…

I do want him to say it.

And I want him to say it of his own volition and not because I cornered him into it.

We haven’t really been together for that long.

Just a few months. But it’s not like in the old world where people sometimes took years to decide what they wanted out of a relationship.

We have no leisure for that kind of indecision here.

And the relationship Levi and I have built in these months is deeper and realer and more significant than the two years I spent with my college boyfriend.

I’m not deluding myself.

I can’t be.

He draws me into another kiss, this one still light but slower. Lingering. “You know perfectly well you’re my only sweetheart.” He murmurs the words against my mouth.

“Okay. Good.” With a little huff, I pull away and curl up under his arm again. “Just making sure.”

I’m a little disappointed but not very. What he’s said still makes my heart sing, and it’s selfish to want him to be anything other than who he is.

“You poutin’?” he asks gruffly after a minute.

It’s unnerving that he can read me so well. “Of course not! Why would I be pouting?”

“I dunno. Just felt like you were. You’re happy, aren’t you? With me, I mean. You regrettin’ things?”