CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

VIOLET POV

I feel like I’ve cried for a lifetime as I wash my face in the bathroom. My cheeks are puffy and my eyes are tired.

      But I feel good. Like I’ve dumped a horrible weight.

      I guess Maggie Connor has been nothing but a drain on me for longer than I can remember.

      I wonder how different life would have been if I’d have stopped clinging onto her all those years ago. I wonder if I’d have made other friends, lived another life.

      I wonder if I’d have grown up.

      I feel like I’m growing up now.

      And that’s weird. It seems so silly that being cared for as a child was what turned me into a woman.

      I smile to myself and Spencer smiles back.

      “What a day,” he says.

“I’m pooped,” I tell him, and he nods.

      “Me too.”

      I hold his hand as he steps onto the landing, waiting for him to open West’s door like he always does. But not today.

      He steps on, and past, and my heart pounds as he opens a different door. The one to his room.

      I’ve barely ever been there.

      He flicks on the bedside light and pulls back the covers for me.

      “This is my bed,” he tells me, like it needs explaining. “I’ll clear out some wardrobe space for you in the morning.”

      I nod. “Thanks.”

      It feels so weird to slip into his grown up sheets. They’re grey. So stylish and grown up.

      And soft.

      They’re soft, too.

      He pulls me close and kisses my hair, and I know he’ll never be Daddy Spencer in this place. It just doesn’t fit.

      And that feels okay.

      It feels just fine.

      “Goodnight, Violet,” he says and the words roll off my tongue so easily.

      “Goodnight, Spencer.”

He squeezes me a little bit tighter, and I know we’re going to be just fine.  

•

•

•

It’s strange to wake in such a big bed, but there’s so much more room for stretching out in. I kick out my legs and enjoy the space, and Spencer is right beside me with a quiet smile on his face.

      “Morning, sleepyhead.”

      “Morning, Spencer.”

      Spencer.

 It’s going to take some getting used to. How funny, how things change. We’ve been on a rollercoaster, him and I. It climbed so high so fast, and then it tumbled, so scary as the train sped over the drop. But we’re still on the rails, and somehow I think we’ll be climbing even higher this time.   

It’s late, I can tell by the light at the window. I take in the surroundings, and it’s nice in here, in his space. I like it.

 I look at the bedside cabinet on my side and wonder what I’ll fill it with. I wonder which wardrobe I’ll hang my clothes in, and if it would be appropriate to bring Mr Ben in here too.

      “Are you hungry?” he asks.

      I shake my head, and I’m not today. I’m really not.

      I stroke his face, my thumb brushing over his shadowy stubble, and I want him so much it makes my toes curl.

      “I know that expression,” he tells me, and kisses my fingers.

      And I know him.

      I’m coming to know everything. Every one of his smiles.

      And his frowns. I’ve seen a few of those now too.

      He kisses me and his lips are soft and warm. His tongue is gentle today, tasting me so slowly. I breathe into him and tangle my fingers in his hair, my legs reaching for his, my knee hooking under and guiding him close.

 It feels so natural, the way he moves, positioning himself above me with his weight on his elbows. I hook my ankles around his calves, and my body knows how this works now. It knows how to tip my hips just right and how to shift myself underneath him.

      He’s so hard, rubbing himself just right, the length of him pressed just where I need him.

      But I don’t want it like this today. I want it to be different. New.

      I smile as I push my hand to his chest, loving the way his eyes show such surprise as I wriggle out from under him and urge him to move.

  Spencer looks so different on his back, his cock so proud as I work it in my fingers.

      I suck him, and he groans. He raises his arms and rests them behind his head, and his legs part so willingly.

      He’s mine.

      And today this is my show, my way.

      It feels amazing to be in control.

Maggie Connor was wrong about sex, just like she was wrong about so many things I took her word on.

      To be sexy doesn’t mean you have to wear a short skirt and bright red lipstick. It doesn’t mean you have to do a striptease or put on some epic performance.

      It just means being confident. Being yourself.

     Being sexy means being me.

      And today I want to be me. I’m good enough for Spencer to love me, and that makes me good enough for me too.

      I’ve never been on top before. It feels so alien to straddle him, but I like it.

      I play with my clit and he watches without moving. His eyes are dark, but not fierce, even though he lets out the same low groan as I position his cock and lower myself onto him.

      I move just as I want to, my hips circling and my little tits bouncing just as much as they can bounce, and the pressure inside builds so easily this way.

      It feels amazing.

      Everything feels amazing.

      “Beautiful,” he says, and I feel it. I do feel beautiful, so exposed and on display.

      I lean forward, and kiss him, and the angle is just right. It must be right for him too, because his breath is fast and ragged, and his hips thrust right back at me.

      “Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, Violet, that feels incredible.”

      I know it does. It feels perfect. Perfect enough that my movements are frantic and my thighs are tense.

I’m going to come, and I know that, but it’s different. This feels different.

      Bigger and deeper and…

      And fuck.

      Fuck.

      Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

      I don’t know if I’ve said it aloud and I don’t care. My senses are fried, my nerves sparking like crazy, and my whole fucking body shudders.

      And then he comes too.

      And I feel it. I feel it so well in this position.

      I did it.

      I did it all and I’m so proud.

      He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight, and I giggle. I can’t stop giggling.

      He holds me until I’m quiet, and then he brushes the hair from my forehead, stares at me with eyes that let me know he enjoyed it as much as I did.

      “You must be hungry now,” he says.