Hotline Fling

Epilogue 2: Morning Glory

Damian's POV

The morning after June moved in, I awoke after the best night's sleep. I always slept better when she stayed over. The groan next to me hinted at the first of many future sleep-filled nights. I smiled at her relaxed face, erratic twitches of her lashes fluttering shadows over her cheeks. The morning light brightened her face. She didn't like the spread of freckles dotting her cheeks, but I loved them as much as those messy brown strands fanned over my pillows. After today, her warm, temptatious body wasn't going anywhere, which comforted me better than a sleep aid.

"Morning," I whispered, hooking my arms over her chest and cupping her shoulder. She groaned again, making the mistake of rolling away from me. I couldn't see her face, but wrapping my body around her curves was fucking amazing. Like her personality, she was warm and soft everywhere that I was a hardened asshole. My favorite part to grab was those two round, smooth globes of her ass. They nestled against my dick, already sprung with morning enthusiasm. It was hard no matter what morning, but with her here, it never receded. The giant purple hickey on her neck was icing on the cake for my ego.

The first time we slept together obliterated all of my previous experiences. June was impatient and insatiable. She squirmed and groaned under me, even swore a few times, and clawed her fingernails into my back. She wanted a fast release, so I had to pull her onto my lap to slow down. I wasn't done after I came, using everything I had –fingers, lips, tongue, teeth, and time– to take as many orgasms as she gave me...then pushed her into one more.

Like when she fingered herself, she preferred we fucked hard and fast. Sometimes, we did when one or both needed it. But when we had all the time to ourselves, she cursed my delayed gratification. She whined and grumbled, but her orgasms were always stronger, her highs higher, my releases more explosive, and we collapsed as much from satisfaction as physical fatigue.

Sex was no longer about getting myself off anymore, and I couldn't have been happier and more satisfied. Despite dating for almost six months, I never tired of June. Burying my cock in her, especially after the rougher days, was a breath of relief and a total mindwipe. Her mind, her body, fuck, and her presence in the room made my life warmer and happier. I was so focused on June being too good for my world, I almost fucked up the opportunity to live in hers. Expanding my priorities improved my life beyond where I could have expected. How I'd gotten lucky enough to capture a walking, breathing version of pure sunshine, I'd never know, but I was keeping her.

June knew me better than I knew myself. After I found her at the hospital, I returned two weeks later to take her to breakfast again, but instead left with her, Bullet, and a pile of nerves about getting a puppy. His teeth destroyed half my shoes, and my apartment smelled like piss for the first month.

Six months old, Bully still had a lot of energy but only needed a two-block square walk. His schedule brought an unexpected consistency to my days. The unconditional love from that damn dog won me over. His excitement whenever I arrived home, no matter how hard my day, filled a temporary hole in my heart. The last missing piece was filled in yesterday. June fought my persistence, resisting me for three months before making me the happiest sap in Manhattan when she agreed to move in.

Me, the brutally rude asshole, happy.

June had few belongings, even with the things she brought back from her aunt and uncle's house. She was most attached to twelve pathetic-looking plants and a large, brown leather chest. I wasn't sure what its contents were, but she asked if she could keep it at the foot of my bed. I would have let her paint my place pink with rainbows and glitter unicorn shit if that made her happy. Maybe not that far, but I would water her damn plants.