“Me, too,” I rasped, feeling the tears trailing down the sides of my face. “Coming home to say goodbye and then the funeral… was just so hard. I didn’t see how I could stay when he wasn’t here for me to see every day. I didn’t want to be here without him.”
Lying down and pulling me on top of him, he stroked my hair. “I know, baby. But I like to think that he’s arranged everything that’s happened for you.”
Wiping my face on his chest and laughing at the groan it got from him, I thought about what he’d said. “You’re probably right about all of that. The pieces just seem to have slotted together for most of it—”
“Don’t tempt fate on that,” he warned, tapping me on the ass. “If you put that out there, bad shit will happen.”
“I said most of it, not all of it.”
“Still, we don’t want to tempt bad fate.”
“Technically, you walking into an apartment swamped with sewage was bad fate,” I pointed out, screwing my face up at the thought of it. “Jesus, that’s nasty.”
“It was,” he murmured. “All I could picture was the bacteria crawling everywhere and then wondering how old the shit was that was in my living room.”
I went to sit up excitedly, but his arms tightened, preventing me from moving and making clear he was happy with me where I was. “Oh my God, I wanted to talk to you about this when I first read it—it’s the kind of thing we used to discuss. But, did you read about that fatberg they found in a sewer in London? They said it went back to Victorian times, and it was full of poop, fat, condoms, diapers, tampons, and all sorts of nasty shit. Hell, they even found watches and rings in it.”
His eyes were dancing when I looked at him. I wasn’t lying, we’d have searched the internet like crazy people when we were younger if they’d found it then.
Apparently things hadn’t changed there either.
“I saw it on the news, and there’s a video online from the camera they used to search the drain. I think there’s a chunk of it in a museum, too.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed, plans starting to form for us. “We need to go and see it. Can’t we?”
Bursting out laughing, all of the melancholy feelings from only minutes before lifted. I’d never be totally free from them, but I could live with them still being there. If you miss someone you’ve lost, your heart doesn’t heal, and those feelings are proof that the person was part of you. So, yeah, I could live with them.
But I could also live for moments like these with Logan Richards.
“Some couple’s dreams include romantic destinations, climbing a mountain, or visiting a volcano. Ours is to go and see Victorian fat and poop.”
&nb
sp; “It’s good to stand out in the crowd,” I snickered, tracing my finger up and down his sides and smiling when I skimmed over his sensitive spot, getting a grunt and shudder out of him.
“That we do, baby. We’ll do normal things, but we’ll also do stuff that not a lot of couples would want to do, but they’re the definition of who we’ve always been.”
Staring across his stomach at the mattress, I realized he was right. “I like that.”
The feeling that grew inside me was also unique. I wanted— No, I needed to taste him. It was like everything depended on it, and I didn’t know why.
My gag reflex truly was shit. If I went to the dentist, they usually had to give me something to relax my muscles so that it didn’t happen and he could check my teeth. When I got strep throat or tonsillitis, it was a nightmare when the doctor put the tongue depressor in to take a closer look. I even loved bananas, but I had to cut them into tiny pieces to eat them.
But I needed to do this. I was desperate to taste him.
Surprising both of us, I sat up quickly and moved between his thighs.
“What are you doing, bab— Oh, shit,” he groaned when I pushed my hand under the waistband of his shorts and closed my fingers around him. When he was soft, it wasn’t an issue, but I knew that they’d only just touch each other when he was hard. Yeah, I was fucking lucky.
Using my other hand so that I didn’t have to let him go, I tugged down the shorts until they were just under his balls.
I could do this. I’d read enough about it in books and magazines to know what I had to do to make it fantastic for him. I just had to have control over my throat and breathing.
So, leaning in, I swiped my tongue over the head, smiling when I heard the deep groan that came out of him.
“You don’t have to do this, Bex. I know you— Aw, shit,” he growled as I sucked on the very tip of it, flicking my tongue across the hole in the top.
This wasn’t the part I had issues with. That happened when it got to about an inch down my tongue. I don’t know why, but it was an automatic response. But, no blowjob would be complete with just the tip in your mouth, so I needed to do more.