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Maddie and I bonded quickly over our shared love for Taylor Swift and our aversion to pickles. I mean, what else do you need at nine years old?
Would he be different if he had bloomed in the sun instead of wilting in the shade?
I don’t care how temporary this thing between us is, I know I will barely make it out alive. Love really is the worst disease, isn’t it?
Classy, elegant, and beautiful, just like the girl who is about to become my wife.
The Peter to my Tinkerbell.
Him. The boy. The perfect boy with the broken smile, now looking at me like I have just given him everything, and just like the first day I met him, all I can do is smile back.
Hallie is being weirder than usual, and I’m pretty drunk, so that’s a keen observation on my part,
She’s my little sister’s best friend, she’s my friend, but right now as she stands in nothing but my jersey, the thoughts I am having about her are far from fucking friendly.
A good man only has so much restraint, and I’m not a good man.
I’m all for being a girl’s girl, but seriously, right now, fuck this bitch.
“Josh, is that your girlfriend?” one of the little boys asks with a laugh, and I respond without thinking. “No, she’s my wife.”
Okay, so I love him more now than I ever have, but that’s not my fault. First of all, he’s hot. Second of all, he’s an asshole, and third of all, he’s a shameless flirt. How the hell am I supposed to resist that? I’m just a girl.
Both teams are on the ice making porn, and by that I mean, stretching for the upcoming game,
They are perfect for one another, and all it does is twist me up inside, because that’s what we all want, isn’t it? We want to find a best friend, a lover, a confidant, someone who sees all of you, your highs, your lows, and everything in between, and falls for you anyway.
“Well, are you coming?” Fuck. I just might be.
I know this one kiss is going to change everything between us. There is no going back to being just friends after this. No, this one kiss is both ruining us and remaking us at the same time.
I am both his wife, and a slut for the boy who is my crush,
but right now he’s kissing me like he might cease to exist without the taste of my lips against his.
You should always high five your friend about great dick, it’s good manners.
“Your mom is right, reading is good for the soul, I love to read.”
If she wasn’t already one of my favorite people on the planet then this would do it, because of the selfless way she cares about other people.
I kiss her like I’m starving,
“Ah ah, on your knees, Tink, crawl to me like a good little wife.”
Fuck, she is a goddess.
Hallie Rose Sanders is on her knees for me. No, Hallie Rose Peters is on her knees for me. Fuck, I’m a lucky guy.
and when her gaze collides with mine and she smiles, I have never seen anything more perfect.
I massage her pussy gently, stroking my fingers over her ever so slowly, savoring the way she melts against me like putty in my hands.
“You’re so fucking pretty when you beg me, Hallie.”
She’s fucking magnificent. And she’s mine.
“Yes, Mrs. Peters?” I respond, knowing that whatever she is about to ask I will give her, I will give her fucking everything if she asked for it.
Three words, three simple words, and I am completely done for. I’ll never be able to step onto the ice again without thinking of her spread out and begging to be fucked. I think being married might be the best thing that has ever happened to me.
She is fucking breathtaking.
I’m not sure when it happened or even how, but when I look at her it’s like I can truly breathe.
Fuck, she even tastes like sunshine,
How the fuck did we get to a place of such magic between us.
She doesn’t just taste like sunshine, she tastes like mine, like she always has been, and it’s unnerving.
“I told you, Tink, I’m not fucking you, I’m owning you,”
A thought that stuns me, yet I know instantly this is more than either of us are willing to admit to one another, to ourselves, I knew it yesterday on the ice. Hell, I knew it on the ice when I was fucking eleven years old.
I have never been territorial before, never wanted to be, but with her it isn’t just a want, it’s a need. I can’t think about whoever had her before me, and thinking about anyone coming after me makes me want to squeeze the life out of something. She’s mine.
Is this still fake? Are we still playing a game? Because if we are, the rules have disappeared out the window and I’m not sure if I am winning, or if I am going to lose bigger than ever before.
There has never been anyone else, only him.
“You don’t have to cook for me,” I call out instantly, knowing that is exactly where he is going, and he freezes between the threshold of both rooms. When he looks back at me, I can see an internal war going on inside his head, before he softly responds, “I like to cook for the people I care about.”
I’m handed a plate of pancakes topped with sprinkles, and when I flick my stare towards Daemon in question, he shrugs with a blush. “It’s Christmas,” is all he responds, tucking into his own breakfast, as we all enjoy our food together.
I am panting and breathless against him, my whole body trembling from the aftermath of his onslaught, and when he trails his mouth up my neck, all I can do is purr like a damn kitten.
“You used to be my favorite person in the entire world, did you know that? Just one look from you and my entire world would tip on its axis, and you never even noticed, did you?”
was her best friend, but you were her whole world.
She’s my everything.
He looks like some sort of fallen dark angel.
Then she is gone, and he is staring at me like I came in here and fucking killed some puppies.
