Page 92 of Wish Upon A Star

He kisses my breastbone. “Here?”

I shake my head. Clutch him by the ears and push his face to my breast; his mouth latches on, and I whimper.

“Here?”

I shake my head again and move his mouth to my other breast—he obliges with kisses and tonguing.

“Here?” he repeats.

I shake my head yet again. Let my thighs fall wide open and guide his mouth to my sex. Lift my buttocks off the bed and press my opening to his lips. “Here,” I answer, finally. “I need your mouth here.”

“Tell me how you like it,” he murmurs. Kisses me, as if it was my mouth, slowly kissing my sex. “Like that?”

I shake my head. “No. That’s nice, but…” I groan as his tongue finds me. “Yes, like that.”

More tongue, lashing side to side, up and down. “Like this?”

“Uh-huh,” I groan, gasp, letting my hips pivot as he intensifies his attention. “I want—Wes, I…I want…”

“Tell me, darling. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

Darling.

My heart swells to overfull, the unabashed sweetness in that one word torching my soul and setting my emotions afire. “Touch me. With your fingers. Inside me.”

He fills me with a finger, then two…and his mouth is wild and hungry, and I lose myself in this. In sensation. In pleasure.

Everything vanishes. Cancer. The past, the future, aches and pain and nausea.

Everything.

Except him.

Here, and now. Making me feel…beautiful, and desired.

My body responds with swift ferocity. I’m thrown to the edge and over it before I can even find the words to say so. I’m groaning as he uses his mouth to make love to me. It’s what it is, and I know it, and I treasure it.

I scream his name as I come and I whisper it as I emerge, shaky and breathless, from the farthest edges of orgasmic wonder.

I’m nearly complete. There’s not much more in this life that I could want.

Just one more experience.

Please, God,I beg, of an entity I’m not sure I believe in. I ask with hope, however. Beg with desperation.Please,give me a little more time. A few more days of feeling alive, of feeling loved, of this beautiful ascent into love.

The phrase is “falling in love,” right? That’s what you hear.

Falling for him.

I’m falling for her.

I get it. It can feel like falling, sometimes. Sort of helpless, a little scary.

But it’s not falling, not when it’s utterly right; it’s an ascension. Rising.

Rising into Love.

Doesn’t have the same ring, maybe. But it feels more like the truth, to me.