Love Letters and Literature

Three Women and Three Secrets

Pretending that I don't know that in the dresser over there is a ring hand picked special for me has been absolute torture.

I haven't looked at it, and I'm not going to. I don't want to know anymore than I already do, and honestly I wish I could forget what I heard. I want to be surprised when the day finally comes, but I'll settle for just being unbelievably happy.

"You know why I love Saturdays?" Thomas asks me as he leans over from his side of the bed and kisses my collar bone.

"No, why do you love Saturdays?" I play along.

"Because neither off us has to run off and do anything. We can sit here in my bed all morning without a care in the world."

Thomas's lips travel down my body as he lays me back and puts some of his body weight over mine. His hands cup my curves and tickle my sides as they slide up and down my impatient skin.

Thomas hasn't had a drink since Tuesday, and although I know that's only been four days I believe him when he says he's changed now. My father has a way with words that makes people listen to him. That's why he's an amazing lawyer. I don't know exactly what my dad said to Thomas, but it's not really my business. There are plenty of stories my dad could have pulled from his archives about how he's messed up in the past because he had an addiction way worse than Thomas.

My father is completely sober now, and I know that Thomas can do it too.

My lovers lips come up to kiss me now sweet and slow as he takes his time.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace." Thomas expertly whispers against my tingling lips. It makes a smile pull at the corners of my mouth and pull him even more on top of me.

"I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise." I whisper back to him and I can feel his muscles tighten around my small body.

He loves when I speak literature to him.

"I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death."

Thomas finishes the sonnet and as soon as the last phrase has left his lips were locked in a kiss so passionate that Shakespeare himself would be aroused in his grave.

It's morning which means not only is Thomas full of energy, but his manhood is at full mast, as every mans is when they first wake up.

As I feel the throbbing tool between his legs practically bruising my thigh I wonder if it's used for pleasure or as baseball bat.

Thomas positions himself right at my entrance, but he's unsure if I'm as willing as he is. His blue eyes lock with mine in a look of pure lustful begging and I'll be damned if I deny him what we both want.

My legs wrap around his waist, and I slowly pull him in, causing the full length of him to slide inside me as I do. He lets out an orgasmic groan and I relish in the delicious sound of it.

This is how we start every morning.

***

"You're with the girls tonight, aren't you?" Thomas asks as we sit in pajamas in front of his television eating cereal. "Yup. An old fashioned girls night in equipped with wine and cheesy romance movies."