Same Time Next Year

by Tessa Bailey

“Mmmm.” Still looking her in the eye, I spit on her pussy, watching heat build in her expression when I lean in and tunnel my tongue into that slick valley, using my saliva to drench her, to give her friction where she needs it, on that swollen little bud that makes her gasp, her fingers spearing into my hair, her hips jerking and tilting. “What about your nipples? Did you play with those while you were thinking about me bending you in half?”

I don’t know how I’m going to get my legs to work well enough to stand up and fuck her, but this is where it’s happening. Right here against the door, come hell or high water.

I was born to fuck this girl. I require nothing else as long as I live.

“Did you like that?” she has the nerve to whisper breathlessly while I’m guiding my miserable, aching dick to her entrance.

“Not going to answer,” I say thickly. “Just going to show you.”

Her visible enjoyment of my dick is like a shot of testosterone that hits me everywhere, and I lose the ability to be polite.

“You’re the only one I’ll ever give it to, tight girl. And you take it so good. You take it, take it, take it. Fuck.”

my finger fully inside that back entrance now,

WHAT

I should have gone to Sluggers, carried her into the office, and kissed her until we were on the same page. I should have been more understanding. More patient. I should have, should have, should have . . .

I reach Britta and wrap her up in my arms like a present, drawing her up onto her toes and then squeezing her out of sheer happiness that she’s there. Which might seem like overkill since we live together and I see her every day, but that’s life when you’re obsessed with your wife.

“In twenty years, Britta, when our kids ask how they came into the world, I could easily tell them it started with this dress.”

As recently as a few months ago, any mention of starting a family would have made her go white as a sheet, but not anymore. She’s able to talk about it more and more, the future becoming solid. Exciting.

I haven’t had the money to buy her the kind of ring she deserves. Every day she has gone without a diamond on her finger has been physical torture. But it ends now.

Earlier, before Britta arrived at the party, I came out and surveyed the beautiful Pacific Ocean in the distance, but it looks a million times better now that she’s with me, just like everything else.

“You’re not just here; you’re outdoing yourself.”

If I’ve learned one thing being in a relationship with Britta, however, it’s that things aren’t on my timeline. They’re on ours. I adapted to this girl, and she adapted to me. And I’ll keep adapting for the rest of our lives, because that’s what allowed me to keep her—and that’s a success that can’t be measured.

“You’ve got me for life, too, Sumner,” she says looking up at me with shining eyes. The ones I’ll see in my children’s faces one day. The ones I’ll fall asleep thinking about every night until the end of time.