and she keeps thrusting back to meet every aggressive stroke. Her moans dissolve into sobs and she shakes with an orgasm as I empty myself inside her, burying my face in her hair to muffle a roar.
We stay like that for a few seconds. On our knees. One of my hands cupping her breast, the other wrapped around her hip. My dick in her ass. I refuse to move. This is Nirvana. Not just anal sex and the blow job.
Though, let’s be honest. It gets no better than that.
Our scents mingle in the air. Deep breaths heave our chests. I press my palm over her heart, feeling the hammer of it. This is peace. My wife in my arms. My kids asleep upstairs. I’ll have them with me on a tour I was dreading because I hated the thought of leaving them.
“Thank you, Bris,” I whisper into her neck.
“It was my pleasure,” she chuckles, turning to face me and frame my face between her hands. “And it had been too long.”
“Not the blow job.” I meet her raised eyebrows head on. “Okay, yeah that, but before that. You bringing the kids on tour with me. Thank you for that.”
The striking lines of her face relax.
“Mrs. O’Malley was desperate for even a crumb from her husband now that he’s gone,” she says, looking into my eyes, showing me her love. “I have you. I have our kids. I have this life with you, and you’re right. There shouldn’t be a season when we miss each other. I’ll make it work.”
“We’ll make it work,” I correct gently, brushing the hair back from her face. “I don’t expect you to make all the sacrifices. I just expect us both to want it more than anything. To want each other more than everything else.”
I grimace at the demand of my words, at the mandate of my heart. I don’t know how to halfway want Bristol. How to halfway love her. I need to have everything and all the time. I have only one gear when it comes her.
All.
But that’s what I want to give her, too.
All.
She smiles up at me, face flushed, her hair a disorderly halo from my fingers and fists. In her eyes, I see it all. Our past and our future. I see us looking down from the top of the world, painfully young with reckless hearts. That was the start of us. Sometimes you don’t know you’re at the beginning when it’s happening. And even though Patrick had been sick for so long, the last time she saw him, Mrs. O’Malley had no idea that it was the end. That’s why we relish every moment. That’s why, even though I may seem selfish or chauvinistic or whatever someone looking in from the outside might call it, I will fight for every second I can get with this woman.
I believe in all the things cynics despise. First kisses on Ferris wheels. Soul mates and once-in-a lifetime loves. I believe in fifty years and forever. I’m sure Neruda has a poem, a line, that would fit this moment perfectly, but I can’t think of it. I can’t think beyond the woman in front of me, and the word “still” tattooed on her ring finger and mine. I only hear the vows poured in cement over my heart.
I said the words that day in a church on a snowcapped mountain, and I’ll say them every day for the rest of our lives.
Always.
Evermore.
Even after.
Still.
And today, I add another word. The one that encircles and seals everything else.
All.
* * *
Keep reading for one last glimpse into Grip & Bristol’s future. Splendid Happiness, a Grip short, was written exclusively for this box set and has never been published before. Read on and enjoy! <3
Splendid Happiness: A Grip Short
Grip
If you’re an artist, there’s nothing worse than being unable to create. That’s been me for months. Like a bottle of champagne, bubbling and ready to pop, but just . . . corked. I have ideas, vision, inspiration, but can’t seem to express any of it in a decent song with lyrics that actually mean anything.
“Shit.” I run a hand over my hair. It hasn’t been this long since I was growing it out for dreadlocks years ago. It’s as wild and tousled as I feel inside. I haven’t bothered cutting it and I see even less reason to while we’re vacationing in Hawaii.
Bristol might challenge the word “vacation” since I’ve shut myself away so much working on this