Chapter 13
The way with which I crave her is unnatural. And the most natural thing in the world.
Leah does in fact get the video to me in a few days time.
I tell Sanders there’s an important hockey game on this evening with a new player that everyone has been talking about.
He pours himself a bowl of cereal and settles onto the pillow nest he’s made in front of the TV.
Maybe Leah was onto something with the whole glasses suggestion.
I place my laptop on the coffee table, connecting it so it mirrors on the big screen. Dane’s voice comes across, pretending to be a sportscaster as he introduces the two teams.
Sanders sits up so fast, some of the milk sloshes over the side of his bowl. “That is me!” he exclaims, pointing to himself. “I am in the television!”
“You are.” I grin.
“How did you—this is amazing. I… I do not understand how this works, but I have never seen anything like it.”
“The good news,” I reply, “is that we can watch it as many times as you’d like. Leah filmed our game the other day and put this together for you.”
With his eyes glued to the screen, he says, “Will you use the little screen to tell her thank you?”
I snap a picture of him watching the game and send it to Leah.
Operation Get Sanders on TV: success.
Leah
Take him to the eye doctor.
And I’m glad he likes it. It was a lot of fun to work on. Make sure you watch until the end *wink emoji*
Sounds ominous.
Leah
*shrug emoji*
Sanders enjoys the hell out of watching himself. He cheers when someone scores, laughs when he falls on his ass for the fifth time, and groans when he misses a pass.
We do as Leah says, watching until the end.
I gasp when I realize she captured the very end of the game when Sanders skated over to me, planting the sweetest kiss on my lips right where everyone could see.
I had no idea she was filming. I also had no idea just how lovestruck I look when I’m in the presence of Sanders.
Shit. I am not going to be okay when he leaves. I knew that theoretically, but the closer we get to the solstice, the more apparent it becomes. Only a week and a half left.
Sanders claps when the credits roll, pulling me out of my downward spiral. He stands, going over to the kitchen counter and returning with a pen and our Post-it. I watch as he crosses off one of the last items on the list.
Cereal Wars
Learn new phrases (ongoing)
Be on TV
Bake a cake
Learn a new game (NOT monopoly!)
Kiss Penelope Graves
Do more with Penelope ;)
Learn how to ice skate
Only one more thing left. He sets the paper and pen on the coffee table next to my laptop before lowering himself back down next to me.
“Penelope, there is one more item on the list?—”
“We don’t have to if you don’t—” I interrupt, but he stops me with a gentle finger on my lips.
“Let me say what I need to say. Please.”
I nod and he continues.
“There is one more item on the list, but I need you to know that even if it was not on the list—even if there was no time constraint, no worry about how much longer we have together, no list whatsoever—I would still want to be with you in this way. I have come to care deeply about you, Penelope. I crave your body, yes. But I also crave you. Your soul, your wit, your kindness. You, Penelope Graves. You are the reason I kept coming back, and I would return a thousand more times if it meant I would find you.”
I’m crying and the thread in my chest feels like it’s so tight it might snap. I knew this would happen eventually, but I admit this isn’t the ideal time. Sanders cups my cheek, swiping tears away with his thumb. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me feel.
“I crave you too, Alisander Wilde. In all of the same ways. I don’t understand why or how we found each other, but right now I don’t care.” I look into his eyes, pleading. “Kiss me?”
And he does. Sweeping me into his arms with ease, my legs wrap around his waist and he carries me into the bedroom, never breaking our kiss.
Gently, he guides us down to the bed, only leaving my lips to kiss across my collar bone and down my arms. I grasp the back of his T-shirt, yanking it over his head and tossing it onto the floor. My hands run across his chest, exploring the juxtaposition between his soft hair and hard muscles.
He pulls me up, removing my sleep tank, not hesitating to suck my nipple into his mouth. My head falls back in ecstasy, so uninhibited that my glasses fall off. Sanders laughs, attempting to return them to my face, but I stop him. “It’s fine, I can see you up close like this without them.”
He cocks his head to the side. “My eyes do that too.”
“I’ve noticed,” I tease. “We’ll get you some glasses.” We won’t, but I don’t want to think about that right now. I pull him back down to me, kissing him senselessly.
His hands chart a course across my body, mapping it in his mind. He plays with the waistband of my shorts, snapping them playfully before tugging. I lift my hips so he can remove them fully, and he doesn’t waste time before following with my underwear.
I’m now completely bare for Sanders.
Something I thought would be incredibly vulnerable, feels the complete opposite.
I feel safe.
He kisses, licks, and sucks his way down my stomach, positioning himself between my thighs. Caressing each leg as he lifts it onto his shoulder, he looks up at me through hooded eyes. “May I?”
Always asking permission.
“Please,” I beg, squirming with anticipation.
He licks one long line up until he reaches my clit, expertly circling his tongue around the tight bundle of nerves. “Oh gods,” I cry. “How are you so good at this?”
“We knights are chivalrous, not celibate, Penelope.”
Oh. Oh. Obviously he’s done this before. Which causes a quick pang of jealousy to run through me.
He chuckles from between my thighs. “No need to be envious, princess. I never want to taste another after you.”
Well, if he insists. As quickly as that jealous feeling appeared, it disappears. Which might have something to do with the way Sanders has started moving his tongue. Who could know?
I run my hands through his soft hair—something I’ve learned I rather enjoy doing—and hold him to my center, wordlessly encouraging him to keep going. He does, and I also feel as he begins to draw slow circles around my entrance with his finger.
It feels fucking phenomenal, and even more so when he gently presses into me. I rut my hips down, riding his hand before he even has a chance to get all the way in. He feels so incredibly amazing and that thread pulls tighter, tighter, tighter inside my chest.
“Sanders,” I moan. “You’re going to make me come.”
Those words have the exact opposite effect than I was intending because he immediately pulls away from me. I stare at him, incredulous, trying not to focus on how I’ve made the lower half of his face glisten. “What are you doing?” I cry, sexual frustration evident in my tone.
“I am sorry.” His chest heaves with panting breaths. “I… I would really like to be inside you when that happens for the first time.”
The first time? Okay, I’m less mad now.
He stands up, stripping out of his pants, and oh my gods—“It’s not going to fit!”
“What is not?” he asks, confused as he climbs back on top of me.
“You! That! Have you seen your cock?” I’m panicked. I’ve had penetrative sex before but never with someone so… well-endowed.
He looks down between us where the head is currently resting on my stomach. “It will fit, Penelope. I will make it fit.”
I’ve definitely read about situations like this in books, but I have to admit, I never thought it was something that actually happened. “There’s lube in my top drawer,” I say in reply.
“Lube?”
“Lubricant,” I clarify. “Should help with this.” I gesture toward his general pelvic vicinity.
“Ah, yes,” he replies with a grin. He opens the drawer and withdraws the lube along with a few vibrators. Quirking his eyebrow, he says, “These look fun.”
“Very fun,” I confirm.
Carefully he places the vibrators back in the drawer. “For next time.”
Next time. Yes, we will need to squeeze in as many of these sessions as possible in the next several days. I take the lube from Sanders, applying a generous amount to his dick. As soon as my hand meets his shaft, he exhales sharply, abs contracting deliciously.
“Christ,” he hisses. “Guide me in, Penelope. I will go slow.”
I do as he says, sliding his tip across my center.
He cants his hips, gently pushing into me before stopping and letting me take control.
I rock slowly and then faster, allowing him to get deeper and deeper.
Sanders exercises godslike restraint, not moving while I use his body.
After a minute or so, I feel so full that he must be nearly into the hilt.
Glancing down, I see that is absolutely not correct. “Dear gods! Sanders, you’re only halfway in!”
He chuckles, hovering himself close enough to kiss me again. “Relax,” he whispers across my lips between kisses. He brings one hand down to massage my clit as he begins to slowly push in the rest of the way.
There is absolutely no way I won’t combust in the next thirty seconds. He feels fucking amazing—a slight tinge of pain as he stretches me but between the lube and how wet I am, he’s beginning to slide in a perfect rhythm.
“Sanders,” I moan.
“Penelope,” he echoes. “Let go, my love.”
That’s all it takes. He finally pushes into the hilt, and I explode around him. It is, without a doubt, the best orgasm of my life. Our thread nears its breaking point and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on enjoying every single second of orgasmic bliss.
Moments later, Sanders grunts, finding his own release. I open my eyes because I want to see the pleasure on his face, the same ecstasy I feel, and—“Holy shit.”
We’re glowing.
A dull golden light emanates from our skin. A golden light I’ve only ever seen when I perform magic.
We come down from our high and the dull light slowly fades away. When I look to gauge Sanders’ reaction, he’s already staring at me with an awestruck expression.
“What was that?” he asks, still fully sheathed inside of me.
I shake my head. “I have no idea. It’s never happened to me before.”
“Penelope, I?—”
“No. Don’t,” I plead, knowing what he’s going to say because I feel it too—both from our bond and in a place deep inside of me that I refuse to access.
His eyes are disappointed but also understanding.
We both know the tighter this thread becomes, the more it’s going to hurt when it inevitably has to snap.
Sanders respects my wishes and doesn’t finish his sentence.
He does, however, give me one last deep kiss before pulling out and flopping on the bed next to me.
We get cleaned up and spend the rest of the night snuggled together in companionable silence until we both fall into fitful sleep.