Page 116 of A Guy Walks Into My Bar
He rises and clasps my cheeks, claiming my mouth. Our lips crash together, and we kiss, rough and consuming. When he breaks it, he breathes out hard, his eyes still glimmering with lust. “I fucking love doing that to you. Every single time.”
“What do you know? The feeling is mutual.” I slide a hand along his shirt, into the waistband of his jeans, over his hard-on. “And now I get to take my turn.”
“Happy birthday to me,” he murmurs as I reach inside his boxer briefs, lust sizzling over my skin as I run my palm over his length.
“Here’s another gift, birthday boy,” I say as I get on my knees, taking him in my mouth.
“This is my favorite present,” he rasps out, staring at me as I draw him in deep, filthy words escaping his lips with every lick and suck.
Words that only stoke my desire, as I show him how very mutual all these feelings are.
And since it’s his birthday, we don’t stop there.
We’ve always excelled at making it last. An hour later at home, we’re ready for another round.
“Birthday sex is the best,” Fitz says as we tumble to the bed. “Let’s have birthday sex every day.”
As I slide my hands down his naked body, I say, “I’m pretty sure we do. But while we’re keeping score for this new bar game, you do know that if you want to fuck me for another birthday present, you’re also going to need to scrub all the floors this weekend too? In addition to the paint job?”
“Worth it. So worth it.”
And yes, it is absolutely worth it.
A few days later, I give him another present when I fly his family in for the weekend, surprising him.
The look on Fitz’s face when he sees all the people he loves is worth it too. Being able to do this for him is worth every decision I’ve ever made in the last few years.
He’s worth everything to me.
Especially when he helps me paint the bar.
Not as a payment. Just because that’s who he is.
Because he likes to help.
When we’re done, he turns to me, giving me that smile that melts me. “Hey you.”
“Hi.” I gesture to the new colors on the wall. “I fucking love you. That is all.”
“I fucking love you too. Always.”
“Always,” I repeat.
I’m so damn lucky to have this. Love and sex and happiness and support.
And family.
Most of all, that.
All in the same person.
This man. This life. This big and wonderful and passionate love. It’s mine and it’s his and it’s ours.
The End
