“Because I love you, Gracie. God, I love you.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head.
I kissed her salty lips. “I love you,” I whispered against her mouth.
She wrapped her legs around my waist and arched her back. I slipped inside her. Not all the way. Just enough to know that I never wanted to be anywhere else. I could live and die between her legs and go a happy man.
“Please, Mitch,” she begged and I wasn’t going to prolong this for either of us. We had waited long enough.
I pushed inside her, shuddering as she took all of me. “I love you, Gracie,” I groaned as I adjusted to the feel of her.
“I will always love you,” I gasped as we started to move together. Gracie’s fingers dug into my back and I kissed the line of her neck. I didn’t care that she didn’t say it back. I’d say it enough for both of us. “There will never be anyone for me but you.”
I couldn’t stop telling her all the things that had been locked away in my heart for years. Now that she was here, underneath me, completely open, I wanted to give her the world.
She lifted her hips to meet my thrusts and I could barely hang on. I was toppling over a very steep cliff and I wanted to take her with me.
“Mitch!” she screamed as I came.
I sat up in bed, my heart hammering in my chest and experiencing the most uncomfortable case of morning wood that I could ever remember having.
I ran my hand through my sweaty hair and tried to breathe normally.
I looked over at Sophie. She was still asleep, thank god. So I slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. I braced myself against the tiled wall and let the water slide over my skin.
Then I wrapped my hand around my dick and pumped. Hard. Rough. Through gritted teeth.
I imagined Gracie’s face when I fucked her. Her head thrown back, her blonde hair spread out over my pillow. I thought about how it felt to slide my cock inside of her. How tight she was and I gripped myself tighter. I tried to be quiet as I jerked off with the image of Gracie Cook haunting me.
Then I came violently. I trembled as I emptied myself onto the cold, wet tile floor. I whispered Gracie’s name as I struggled to stay on my feet.
All the while my girlfriend slept in the next room.
“You’re not eating enough. It’s obvious I can’t trust you to take care of yourself, Gracie,” my mother scolded, separating the food on my plate into three distinct piles.
I was almost expecting her to pick up a spoonful and use the airplane method to get me to eat.
I gripped the napkin in my hands and willed myself not to flip the table.
“Please stop touching my food, Mom,” I said sharply. I moved my plate away from her and cast a quick look around the crowded café, hoping no one was paying attention to the crazy woman attempting to force feed her adult daughter.
My mother scowled her pretty scowl and returned the fork to her own plate. “I want you to weigh yourself when you get home. If you’ve lost weight, I want you to call and tell me and I’ll make you a doctor’s appointment. Maybe you need to increase your therapy again.”
Every conversation was the same. Food. Eating. Booze. Sobriety. Over and over again.
Was it any wonder I had issues?
My mother had spent my entire life telling me I was either eating too much or not enough. Food had become the focus of my entire world. Counting calories, standing on a scale. Pulling at the skin around my hips, sucking in my stomach so I could fit into that tiny skirt. I was never happy because my mother was never happy. But at least I could look pretty while I was miserable.