Page 97 of For a Goode Time Call…
“God, Cass,” he moaned, breathless. “How can something I thought was already perfect get even better?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, gasping, “but it is.”
We moaned together, gasping, moving. His hands cupped my breasts and I fell back against him, and he did everything, moved for us, and I just writhed on him, let him dictate the rhythm and speed and took all of him, took him as he gave himself to me.
“I love you, Cass,” he moaned. “I love you.”
“I love you, Ink.” I felt him shake as he moved into me. “God, I love you.”
“Cass, I’m…I have to—” a growl. “I have to come.”
“Now, Ink!” I sank on him. Drove down hard, taking him as deep as I could. “Please, now!”
“But we’re—”
“I want it like this, Ink,” I said. “I love you, I love you, that’s all that fucking matters…”
He palmed my breasts in one hand, and pressed his hand across my belly and hips and where we were joined together, pressing me against him, pinning me there.
I whispered and chanted and screamed his name as he snarled and thrust his way to climax, and this time, Ifeltit. Hot and wet, a powerful rush of him into me, filling me, and I came with him, his fingers helping me there, and I came around him and he moved into me and I cried to feel it, to feel us, to be bare and naked with him, filled with him, sated on him, utterly sated on everything Ink, completed by him, and in him, with him and for him.
He held me as I lost all control, kissed me as he filled me.
Later,we lost each other in the waterfall, again and again.
And each time was better and wilder and more than the last.
He’d broughta tent and a sleeping bag in his pack. After setting it up, he made a fire by the pool. We ate out of cans heated on the fire. Wrapped up naked in a sleeping bag.
Made love deep into the night, bare every time.
I knew the risks, but with Ink, I didn’t care. The only risk was pregnancy and, crazy as it sounded, I wasn’t afraid of that either. I just neededInk,needed this with him, needed to feel him. Feel us.
I wanted to feel and be loved by him—and know that my love for him was enough for him. That we were everything to each other.
We lay in the tent, drowsing near dawn.
“Build a love with me, Cass. Build a life with me.” He dug in his bag. Pulled out a small crimson velvet bag. Produced a ring—a tiny diamond solitaire.
“This was my great-grandmother’s. Supposed to go to my mom, but Dad insisted she have his. So I have it. Had it for years. Just held on to it, carried it around with me.”
I swallowed hard. “Ink…” I gazed at him in the gray soft light. “Really?”
“I want to grow this love with you, Little Sparrow.” He touched my hand, lifted my finger. “Say yes.”
“Yes, my love. Yes, a million times yes,” I whispered, choking on my own emotion, my tears, my love, my words.
He stared at me, almost shocked at my answer. “Yes?”
I flexed my finger. “I want to love you forever. I want your grandmother’s ring. I want us. I want to live in Ketchikan and dance and make babies with you.”
“It’d be a miracle if we already haven’t,” he said.
I stared at the ring, marveling. “I’d be okay with that, honestly.”
He marveled. “You would?”
I laughed. “I’m all in, Ink. All in, all the way.”
