These Violent Delights
Page 21
I can’t. We’re warm and naked and together, and that was the part that blew my mind all along; how much I loved just cuddling with him. I kiss his lips, his jaw, along the ridge of his collarbone. The ink stands out black against the white inside his arm.
“I still can’t believe you got a tattoo.”
He grins and wraps a leg around me. “It’s all part of my new policy of giving less of a shit about what other people think of me.”
“I love it. I’m so into it.” I pull him close and feel him smooth against my pubes. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I’m loving this whole new, noisy sex-having, dick shaving, dildo buying, tattooed you.”
“I’m still the same me.”
“I know. And that’s what makes it hot.” I feel him stir again. “You, all bookish. With your horn-rimmed glasses and your accent and your pile of old books by dead people.” He shoves me gently and I roll over onto my back, his fingers curling around me. “But I’m the only one who knows that underneath all that you’re a freak in sheets. That you’re dirty and sexy and weird. And mine.”
Tom bends his head to kiss me. A long kiss, wet and lingering. Oh, we’re good to again, slow and soft this time. “Yes,” he says, reaching to pull the covers over us. “I’m yours. I’m all yours.”
The End