Chapter 35
ELLA
I have a new purpose in life. A new reason for living.
Bringing Ry to orgasm. Making him scream. That’s my new purpose. And I could do it all day, every day from here to eternity.
Ry’s loud when he orgasms. Really loud. He says he has to be loud to keep an even pace with me.
I don’t know about that.
Those are things I’m thinking about on this Saturday afternoon as I sit on the patio, sketching a rudimentary drawing of a house. I shift in my chair, trying to make my bottom half a little bit more comfortable. Last night’s adventure left me sore, so Ry hasn’t been able to lavish attention on me like he’s used to. That’s quite okay; I’m more than eager to make up lost time focusing on him.
It’s definitely the first time in my eighteen years I woke a guy up in the morning by sticking my hand down his underwear. Of course, Ry is the only guy who’s ever spent the night sleeping next to me, so I haven’t been afforded the opportunity of fondling someone’s morning wood before, but I know in my heart that it’s one of my new favorite pastimes.
Spring is in full force now, and the grass around the homestead needed mowing. When we went to shower this morning, Ry loaded up a push mower and weed-eater from the garage, and he has been doing yard work most of the day. Without his shirt. Sweat pouring down his muscles. Ballcap shading his brilliantly translucent green eyes. And that’s why, twenty minutes ago, I just finished giving him a blow job. He was too damn sexy to resist.
He’s sitting in a chair opposite me right now, drinking bottled water to cool down. I steal a glance at him. He’s watching me, rubbing two fingers against his chin in thought.
It’s illegal. Inhuman. No one has the right to look that good.
He clears his throat. “What are you doing?”
I smirk. “Nothing.”
“ Nothing means you’re sitting there, twiddling your thumbs. You’re not doing nothing ; you’re obviously doing something .”
“I’m just sketching.”
“Sketching? Like drawing?” He doesn’t wait on me to answer. Instead, he walks over, standing behind me. “Lulu, that’s amazing. You didn’t tell me you could draw.”
“I can’t really draw. I can only do buildings. I can’t draw people, landscapes, nothing. I don’t know why buildings come easy to me. They just do.”
“Is this why your parents want you to become an architect?”
“Well, that, and they determined it to be a money-making profession. They want me to get every degree known to mankind and open my own firm one day.”
Knowing that’s not what I want, Ry doesn’t even comment on it. “Whose house is that? Is that a pond out front?”
I always do what I shouldn’t do. Always.
I shouldn’t have started this drawing. And I definitely shouldn’t be opening my mouth to tell him about this drawing.
I flick the pencil back and forth on the page and lift my chin in the air. “Well, that’s our house.”
“Excuse me?”
I try to crawl out of the big pile of shit I just jumped in. “Well, I’ve just been spending so much time out here lately, and you talk about living here, building a house like Grandpa wanted. I just thought I would draw something. For fun.”
His features darken, but I can’t exactly read his expression because his ballcap is pulled too low.
Lifting my feet, he sits next to me on the loveseat, settling my legs between his. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer. “So, do I get to know what our house is gonna look like, or is it supposed to be a surprise? You’re the one who likes surprises. Not me.” He points to the drawing. “Our front porch faces the pond?”
My heart bursts open, pouring all the love I have for this man into my body. Filling every cell. Filling every organ. Filling every fiber. I’m drunk on pure happiness. This is what life is supposed to feel like. I don’t need the love of my parents. I don’t need the camaraderie of friends. I just need him.
“Yeah. I’ve always been attracted to front porches more so than back porches. It’s like looking at the future instead of the past. And I love the historic old farmhouse look.” I point out all the details on my drawing. “White wood siding. Green shutters. Stone veneer around the front door and around the crawl space. I want a crawl space and not a slab, because I wanna walk up a set of stone and wood steps to get to the wraparound porch. And I want it to wrap completely around the entire house, except the left side here, where the garage will be. Front porch swing. Rockers. Dining table. We can sit on the porch to eat our supper, watching the sun set over the pond. And hydrangeas all in the front flowerbeds.”
“Pretty damn nice, Lulu. What about the inside?”
I flip to the finished sketch of the downstairs. “First floor. Open concept for the kitchen and living room. Huge living room on the right side when you walk in the front door. Kitchen on the left. Next to it a mud room where you come in from the garage. Laundry room next to the mudroom. Then you walk down the middle hallway, there will be a half bath on the right, and then a large office on the right. That can be your office. The left will have a corresponding room, just larger. It will have a full bath connected to it.”
“So, you’re saying it’s a bedroom.”
I shake my head. “No. I was thinking it could be a joint office and… rec room, maybe.”
I am so stupid.
He catches the trepidation in my voice and holds onto it like a kite blowing in the wind. “A rec room for whom?”
“People.” I fidget with my fingers, squaring my shoulders.
He chuckles. Bastard likes to see me nervous.
Rubbing his fingers over his tanned lips, he bites back another laugh. “Are you talking about small, little people? The kind who don’t like to eat their vegetables and who believe Santa Claus is real?”
I scowl. “Fine. Yes. Children. This can be a joint office and playroom. The kids can play while I work. And then, when we get too old to climb the stairs to our bedroom, this room can easily become our master bedroom since it will already have a full bathroom connected to it.”
I fold the notebook and toss it on the side table. “It was just for fun. There’s no need to freak out about it.”
“Did I say I was freaking out?”
I turn to him, narrowing my eyes. I still can’t see his and it’s annoying the hell out me. I flick the bill of his hat with my fingers, popping it higher on his head so I can look at him. He definitely looks amused. But he doesn’t look like he’s freaking out. I guess that’s a good thing. At least, he’s taking this all in good humor.
I am too. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. But the truth is, that’s what I want. Every last bit of it. Four bedrooms upstairs. Each and every room filled with little humans made from him and me.
I guess he’s still waiting on an answer, because he eggs me on. “Well?”
“No. Not freaking out.” I untangle my body from his and jump up. Grabbing his water bottle, I quickly down the rest of it.
Suddenly, he’s standing behind me, whispering against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His bare skin rubs against my shoulder blades. “Did you pack your tennis shoes?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Come on, there’s something I need to show you.”
***
The trail was hidden between some trees behind the tent. That’s why I never paid attention to it before. Fifteen minutes after dragging me into the woods, we emerge into a small green meadow.
And I hear something.
Water.
“Ry, is that a river?”
“Creek.” He smiles widely, tugging me through the thick green grass. Slowly, the grass starts to thin, the rippling sound of water gets louder, and there’s a reflection in the sunlight ahead of us. Like a mirage for the thirsty man who’s lost in the desert.
It’s gorgeous. This section of the creek is large and rocky. Not large enough to swim in, but definitely large enough to wade in. Big enough to play in. It winds past us into a dense wood that would be hell to hike. Wildflowers are scattered here and there, decorating our beautiful little scene in pinks and yellows and purples.
Ry drops the backpack from his shoulders and spreads a blanket out on the side of the bank. Immediately, I take off my socks and shoes, walking into the rippling current. The water is cold, but not freezing. It’s too shallow to truly get freezing, only coming up to our knees. I step on something squishy and squeal.
Walking out to join me, Ry howls in laughter and I promptly splash him in the face. “Why didn’t you tell me this was out here?”
He shrugs. “Just waiting for the right time, I guess.”
We walk along the creek, skipping rocks and talking. Eventually, we drag our water-splattered bodies to the blanket and lie drying in the sun. We watch the passing clouds through the tree branches, enjoying one another’s company in complete, comfortable silence.
Ry reaches out, tracing his fingertips across my hand. “I can’t believe Spring Break is nearly over.”
“I know. One more day.” One more day, and then I’m back to living in the dungeon I call my house. One more day, and then I’m back at school, having to smile and grit my teeth while everyone around me spends the next week talking about how drunk they got or who they hooked up with on vacation. One more day of my perfect life on the homestead, sleeping in a tent, peeing in the woods, and showering in a stall no bigger than a thimble.
Who knew all of that could be so perfect?
He sighs. “What about this place? Should our house be out here, closer to the creek?”
I turn on my side and study his chiseled profile, his square jaw, his flawless complexion, the dark freckle by the corner of his eye. “No. The house stays where it is. This place is just ours. Hidden. Secret.”
Leaning over, I kiss him.
And I let him know that I’m no longer sore.