He smiled and it lit up his whole face. “Of course I do. Baby, I want that more than anything.”
“Then who cares what people say,” I said. I sat down beside him and grabbed onto his jittery hands. “Who cares what they think could happen. I’m not going to through all of that, my dreams, my future life, and throw it away because of theories and speculations.”
He kissed my shoulder and closed his eyes. “But what if it’s true?”
“If it’s true,” I said, brushing his hair off his forehead, “and we have a child burdened with our so-called gifts, or we have the anti-Christ, then we’ll deal with it. But only when it comes. Life is so fucking precious Dex, we know this better than anyone now. We shouldn’t throw it away on hearsay.”
He looked up at me, strain coloring his face. “But what if it hurts you? What if you’re the one who suffers? What if I lose you?”
“After all we’ve been through,” I said, kissing him lightly on the cheek, “you should know that I will fight to stay with you, no matter. Losing me will not be easy. Like it or not.”
“You’re not angry at me?” he asked. “For keeping it a secret, for not telling you?”
“Oh, I’m angry,” I told him. “But this is getting suppressed for now. I’m sure it will come out sometime after we are married.”
“Typical Perry,” he commented with a shake of his. Then he grinned and cupped my face in his hands. “And that’s why I love you.”
Then he kissed me like he was a dying man all over again, gasping for the breath I held within me. Only I felt like I was dying too. His lips revitalized me. His touch kept me whole, kept me together. He let his fingers sink into my hair, stroking down the back of my head, holding onto the back of my neck. I loved it when he did that. Strong and meaningful, like he meant to protect me more than possess me. Like I was his but like he was mine and we would keep each other safe. I knew, deep in every part of me, how literal that was. We really would do anything for each other.
His lips trailed down my neck and we lay back in the bed while he stroked me lightly with his fingers, my legs parting, wanting him, needing him. But there was too much distance. I needed to have all of him in me.
I sat up and, with one hand on his chest, held him down as I straddled him. I was already wet and throbbing and ready as I lifted up enough to guide him inside me. I slowly rocked back and forth, building up hotter, faster and made sure I rode him until he couldn’t hold back anymore. I bit at his neck and earlobes and licked his chest and when he asked me to bite harder, to make sure he was still alive, I did just that.
He sat up so that our legs were wrapped around each other, one arm around my waist, holding me to him. He brought his thumb to my clit and started rubbing me while I swiveled up and down on his cock, getting him in deeper and deeper.
I stared deep in his eyes as they changed from bright and manic to lustful and glazed. We never broke contact. We couldn’t look away from each other until we came and my thunderous orgasm made my eyes roll back. He filled me up, and I was overcome with his cries, feeling everything pulse inside me. I was whimpering, awash in my emotions that seemed to gush from my heart and then the whimpering turned into shaking and I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. I couldn’t do anything but feel love.
So much love.
***
I dreamed again that Dex had died. But when I woke up, covered in sweat, I rolled over and grabbed onto his arm. He was alive. He murmured to me in his sleep, words that didn’t make sense, as usual. In the faint light from the streets, I could see him smile too, as if he was trying to soothe me.
It worked. I nestled into the crook of his arm and the dream never came back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dex
When I first saw the gangly douchefucker, I was in university, leaving my editing class and he was being one nosey son of a bitch. He knew who I was, somehow, and he was eager to join my bad Sin Sing Sinatra as a bassist. I guess I must have been incredibly stupid to not see how odd it was that Maximus just showed up in my life like that, but, I had also been very good at the art of denial.
I was also good at the art of keeping people away from me. No one could get close, especially not giant gingers. But somehow, that guy, he got in. He became important in every aspect of my life. Looking back, I can see it was a ruse. At least, it started out that way. But somewhere along the line, Maximus stopped being a guide and started being a friend. I don’t even think he got to give me guidance in any way except for what chicks to bang and what beer to drink.
And, until I banged his chick, that was the way it was for us. We were friends. Close friends. Maybe not so close that I would confide in him and tell him that I saw ghosts and that he would confide in me and pretty much tell me he was a ghost. But other than that, we were close. He was the closest person to me.