time, and I feel him hot and throbbing deep inside me. I’m still convulsing around him when he pulls out slowly, listening to the amazing noises of two wet bodies disconnecting. Stone’s eyes are focused between my legs as he pulls all the way out. A huge, beatific smile stretching across his face as he leans down to kiss me on my stomach and slide my thong back into place.
Reaching behind me, I feel the cool of the window and realize they’re fogged up—exactly like what happens when people have sex in cars in the movies. “I’m glad we came early.”
“I’m always glad to come in you, Morg,” Stone jokes. I pull his costumed collar toward me and kiss him, coming up onto my knees to balance myself, my head still swimming from the adrenaline and from being with the only man to ever make me feel like a woman. His fingers grazing through my hair, he angles my chin sideways to kiss me deeper.
His erection still pressing against me, I know we could end up in this SUV all night if I don’t take the lead. “We really should hang out with our friends tonight,” I prompt in between wet kisses.
“I know,” he returns, molding his lips against mine again. “I need to go to confession first,” he says, his teeth clicking against my own.
I play along. “Confess to me your sins.”
“I’m so in love with a woman that I can’t see straight. Tell me what to do, Mother Morganna.”
My hands on the sides of his face, I pull back, narrowing my eyes. “Just love her for the rest of your life. And pick up your dirty clothing. Oh, and always, always consult her before getting a tattoo. Hot sex, too. She probably needs lots of hot sex.”
Stone tilts his chin down and narrows his eyes to match my own. “You always do need that S word, don’t you?” I erupt into a fit of very un-Morganna like giggles and sit back onto the seat. We talk for another thirty minutes about his tattoo ideas and house projects—mainly a laundry chute and a hand-crafted sex swing for our bedroom. I am satiated and so full of love for my husband, I can’t remember a time I’d been more in love with love, or with life.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Morganna
IT WAS A nice break. A healthy break, from work and real life. It’s funny how going back to my hometown grounds me in a way that nothing else can. Of course, being with Steven is the main reason I’m so relaxed and ready to tackle my workload and the New Year with a brand new positive outlook. My polished reflection in the mirror looks the same as it always has, but I can’t deny the sparkle in my eye that hasn’t been there for a long time.
Since Stone died.
Is it because Steven is the first person or relationship that I’ve delved into since, or is it because what we’re beginning is something real and true—something that will surely take away the final pain that hasn’t eased? I’m almost afraid to admit it’s the latter, because that overshadows my love for my husband in some cosmic way, right? Because Steven is so similar in so many ways, I can’t ignore the niggling feeling. I can ignore it enough to enjoy my newfound emotional freedom. Daddy always told me that words cut. Words are harmless to me now…in my profession and at this point in my life. Lies are words. Some words are even so insignificant as to be called hollow. I’ve learned that absence is what cuts the deepest. It slices you in places you never knew were there. The freedom comes from the lack of absence. Steven is here, he’s with me in more ways I can count. The fact that he understands everything I’ve been through is just bonus.
With a freshly pressed designer skirt suit and a full face of complementary makeup, I’m ready for anything that comes my way. Phillipe picks me up early, because he knows I’ll be ready before our agreed upon time, and takes me into the office—a place I rarely visit as I usually conduct business from my home office. Today I have a meeting with Penelope that requires an associate to sit in on as we prepare paperwork and file everything for the upcoming divorce proceedings. She called me twice last night to make sure she was making the right decision to take him for all