I grunt as she spreads her legs wider and sinks farther down on me. “God, yes,” I groan. “Fuck me, Lark,” I tell her. “Fuck me faster.”
She’s tight and wet and hot and there’s no barrier between us. I take her hips in my hands, guiding her to find a rhythm I know she’ll like. I’ve learned her body. I know all about it. I know how to make her happy. She cries out as she gets close. I can feel the hum of her noises in her chest, and I can feel the humid wind of her cries against my cheek.
“I’m going to come,” I say, as I feel her walls clench around me, pulling me in deeper and deeper, and I come inside her with the knowledge that we could have just made a new life, and I come harder than I ever have before.
She collapses against my chest, and I hold her tight, kissing her temple over and over. I can’t get enough of her.
She wiggles and I slip out of her, and then I use my handkerchief to clean her up, and then myself. I pull my pants back up and try to get back to some semblance of order. She falls into the seat next to me.
“Thank you for today,” she says.
I hold her hand and bring it to my lips. “Thank you for tomorrow,” I say.
She smiles at me, her head tilted in my direction, and I know this is right where I’m supposed to be. Nowhere else. Just here.
I remember one thing I wanted to ask her. “What did Emilio say to you that made you get teary as we were getting into the car?”
She keeps smiling, though her eyes do get a little watery. “He said my parents would have been really proud of me today.”
I pull her over to lie against me and kiss her temple.
She jerks back suddenly. Then she pulls out her phone and shows me a picture. It’s my baseball cap.
“What is happening to my cap?”
“Terrible things will happen to that cap unless you make me happy for the rest of my life.”
“Done,” I say out loud.
“Done,” she repeats.
“Done,” I say again. And I grin and kiss her.
I’m not worried about the cap.