Bared Souls - Ellie Wade Page 0,52
me to get used to him, and then he starts to move again. Each passing minute tips the scale a little bit further from the pain.
Grabbing ahold of his butt, I pull him toward me and grind against him. The uncomfortable sting is still present, but the rest feels good. His tongue enters my mouth, and I kiss him hard, my love. He’s gentle and attentive and everything I could have asked for my first time.
He pushes into me one last time and groans as he trembles against me. He pulls out and tosses the condom in the trash. He lies behind me and kisses my shoulder.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you,” I answer.
“I promise tomorrow will feel so much better.”
“It was good. I enjoyed it,” I say.
“Then, just wait until tomorrow and the day after that. It’ll blow your mind.” He kisses the back of my head.
“Tomorrow and the day after that?” I tease.
“You’re going to want to do it all the time, and I will gladly be your willing partner.”
I smile, pulling his arms tighter around me. Twisting my head to the side, I kiss his arm, and entirely content, I fall asleep.
TWENTY-FOUR
Leo
Life with Alma is an adventure of the blind leading the blind. Had it not been for Amos, my beautiful girl wouldn’t have experienced the emotional connection needed for childhood development. And while I had most traditional childhood experiences, I was so closed off to the world that I didn’t take the moments in. Alma walked through life, craving it, all while I hid from it. We’re two broken beings, trying to be whole, and maybe together, we are.
The past few months with Alma have been the best in my life. I never thought I would truly love someone or need someone in the way I love and need her. Perhaps our shattered pasts are to thank for us coming together. None of it makes sense, and yet it’s entirely perfect in its dysfunction.
If I were a complete cheeseball, I might say that she completes me or some shit. I haven’t fallen to that level of lameness, so I’ll leave it simply stated—I love her. As deeply as a person can love another, I love Almalee.
Today is Alma’s nineteenth birthday, and as we’re only two weeks out from Christmas, I planned a day of holiday festivities for her. Based on the sex this morning after revealing my plans, it was the best gift I could’ve given her. On the list of things her parents didn’t do, right after loving their daughter, they also didn’t celebrate holidays, so today, we’re celebrating.
I pull into the Christmas tree farm’s parking lot.
“I’m so excited.” She bounces on the passenger seat.
“This is a first for me too. My parents are all about the fake trees. The real ones would’ve been too messy for my mother.” I step out of the car and close the door.
There’s a wooden fence separating the tree farm and the parking area, and each tall wooden post has a large red felt bow attached. Strings of white Christmas lights loop across the length of the fence, creating a festive feel.
“It’s like a Hallmark Christmas movie. Everything is so pretty,” Alma exclaims as I meet her in front of the car and thread my fingers through hers.
I check in at the office, pay, and am handed an axe. We stroll out toward the lines of evergreens.
“So, are you thinking short and fat, tall and thin, or a Charlie Brown one? What’s your ideal tree?” I ask her.
“Ooh, a Charlie Brown tree sounds fun. What’s that one look like?” She wraps her free hand around my arm and leans against my side as we walk.
“You’ve never seen A Charlie Brown Christmas?”
“No.”
“Well”—I smile with a shake of my head—“a Charlie Brown tree is basically a sad little branch with a couple of smaller sad branches on it.” I search the ground and find a suitable replica from the cartoon classic. “Like this.”
“Oh.” Alma giggles. “Maybe not. That’s just pathetic. What’s the point of a tree like that?”
“That is the point. That it’s sad and pathetic.”
“I don’t get it.” She tilts her head back and looks up to me.
I lean in and kiss her temple. “And now, we’re adding A Charlie Brown Christmas to our evening agenda.”
“Oh, that sounds fun.”
“Maybe not fun but clearly needed. Every child has seen that cartoon.”
“Not every one.” She shrugs. “Oh, what about this one?” She releases my hand and skips over to a bushy