19. Ashlynn
19
ASHLYNN
My feet don’t ache as much as I pad up the stairs, careful to avoid the non-existent creaky spots. The moonlight filters through the large windows, casting silvery patterns on the polished floor. Once in the safety of my room, I lean against the doorframe of my bedroom, my heart still racing from the emotionally charged moment Gilbert and I just shared.
It’s a small moment, but it feels like the beginning of something much bigger.
I swallow hard, the intimacy of the moment almost overwhelming. It deeply resonated with me, the sincerity in his voice when he said I matter to him. His kindness feels genuine, his selflessness a rarity that leaves me both grateful and bewildered by it and by him.
People usually want something in return, every gesture tinged with expectation.
I am not people. His deep, gravely voice echoes through my mind.
He isn’t.
And, for a moment, I allow myself to believe him.
His touch, his presence, it’s all so comforting. It’s been so long since someone took care of me like this. Since I let anyone close enough to try.
The thought of him looking forward to my bringing him his morning coffee at 5 A.M. has my lips stretching into a smile. Warmth spreads through me at the idea of starting my day with him.
Other parts of me ache, desperate for release. Desperate for him.
I climb into bed and pull the covers up to my chin. The softness of the sheets envelope me, offering comfort that matches the unexpected solace I find whenever I’m around him.
My eyes drift close, thoughts of him weave through my mind’s eye like a gentle melody. My hand slides down my stomach, fingers tracing over the raised ink on my stomach, before traveling further down. My fingers go to my clit, and, for a moment, I imagine it’s Gilbert’s hands on me, in me. Expertly working me up, twisting up my insides and sculpting me like clay. His name is on my lips as my orgasm washes over me.