“I wanted to be a man that made my Pop proud.” His voice was ice-cold.
I hated making the warmth disappear. I regretted my words. But, I’d already asked, so might as well continue.
“Before that? What did you dream of?” I tried.
“That’s it. Since I could walk, earliest memories, being told I’d be king of the kingdom someday.”
“What about now? What’s your dream now?”
“Happily ever after with my ice cream parlor maid.” He squeezed my butt and I smiled.
“I was more than the job I used to do. And so are you.”
He went quiet and so I did, too, thinking over how hard it must be for him to have no idea what would be next.
Well, I didn’t know, either. My plans a few months back of my own apartment, of going to college for social work, all that had changed, too. All I knew about my future was that I’d be his wife.
But, right then, that was enough. We had time to figure it all out.
I wanted to get him excited about the future. To think of the glass as half-full. But, he needed time to grieve. Patience from me. Time to figure out what he wants.
I couldn’t be selfish, not with all the pain and torment I saw in his eyes, heard in his irregular breathing while he slept, so I planned things for our last few days in Aruba that I thought he would want to do.
The next day, with Aldo’s help, I organized a day of off-roading. And I could not have picked a better activity. I think it was just what he needed. We had a blast. He smiled. He laughed. He teased and told jokes. He kissed me about a hundred times. And he wasn’t faking it.
Before we finished up and were about to turn our 4x4 in, I got spontaneous. “Pull over there, Tommy.”
“Hm?” he asked.
“There.” I pointed to a cluster of tall rocks. He followed my directions and this took us to a secluded spot.
He gave me a mischievous look as he put it in park and yanked the bandana off his face.
I pulled my sunglasses off, undid the seatbelt, yanked the bandana that was around my mouth to keep dirt and debris out of my nose and mouth down, and leaned forward and grabbed first his seatbelt, then the belt of his jeans.
His eyes were surprised, then heated.
I pulled him
out of his black boxer briefs. He was already hard for me. He grabbed the holy shit bar inside the driver’s side window and held on, eyes down, on me, and filled with intensity.
I swirled my tongue around the tip of him and then looked up again. He liked to make eye contact when he did sexual things to me, and I knew from our time together that he liked it when my eyes were on him while we were fooling around. I kept going, making sure to move my eyes to his face as often as I could, while working him with my tongue.
He grabbed my ponytail and held it, not forcing my head in any direction, but I knew by the look in his eyes that he was ensuring he was ready to take over control when he chose.
That was my fiancé. Always ready to take control. I loved it about him, particularly because he usually knew just when to take it.
He let me suck and stroke, plant kisses up and down his shaft while batting my eyelashes angelically at him.
And then, he’d had enough of the sweetness. His grip tightened on my hair and he put pressure to make me take him deeper.
“Yeah, baby,” he whispered huskily.
I was soaked between my legs at the sounds he was making, at the sight of a swallow working its way down his throat, at him blowing out air slowly and his fist tightening on the upper handle inside the vehicle as he got lost in sensation.
“Fuck, this mouth. Gonna fuck this sweet mouth. Suck my cock, Tia. Suck it good.”