Free Brisé by Leigh Ann Lunsford, Chelsea Kuhel

In one chair he has my dad’s beanie, and the other he has a pair of my mom’s pointe shoes. I almost crumble right there, but I don’t. I take another step, then one more and finally I have my diploma in my hand and my man in my sights. He made sure my parents were there with me, in memory and in spirit. I love him. It’s that simple, but yet that complex at the same time.
    A celebratory dinner was in order, and we ate dessert first. Another one of my dad’s traditions for special occasions. On every birthday we had cake at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was never questioned, just the norm in our house. I am exhausted when we finally get home, and I notice a slight tension with Luke and his dad as we say goodnight.
    “What’s that about?”
    “Nothing. It’ll work itself out.” He tries to move around me to change in the bathroom and I grab a hold of his arm.
    “Tell me.”
    He lets out a frustrated breath, not making eye contact. I have a feeling this is going to be bad. “He noticed the change in our relationship, and he’s worried about me basically living here. Afraid we will fuck up our futures.”
    “Are you worried?” I never want him to feel bound to me out of obligation. Yes, we have admitted we are in love, we always have been, and there has been a change in our relationship, but our friendship is still the foundation.
    “You are my future, Phoebe.” He is so simple in his answers. But they convey everything to me. No hidden agenda, no games. Just says what he means and you can take it or leave it. I am taking this.
    “You are my future, Luke.” I rise on my tiptoes; leaning into his neck, I place a small kiss at the base. I drag my tongue across after my lips are done, and I hear his sharp intake of breath. This is new to me, but natural at the same time. There’s no shyness in my moves, my intentions are very clear. I slowly unbutton his dress shirt, looking into his heated eyes; I don’t want to stop. He picks me up effortlessly and plops me on the bed. Quickly removing his shoes and socks, his hands return to his pants and he pauses, meeting my eyes.
    “Are you sure?” Stupid boy.
    “As my next breath,” I lean towards him and replace his hands with mine, letting him know how sure I am. I undo the button, lower the zipper, and then he’s standing before me naked. My man likes to go commando. Duly noted. I trail my fingertips over his cock, mesmerized by the strength and feel of it. He emits a low feral-like growl and my eyes snap to his. Never experiencing this before, I don’t know what to expect. He grabs my hand, halting its exploration and starts removing my clothing. One article at a time. Tortuously slow. By the time I am lying on my bed, bare, I’m a writhing mess. The throbbing in my clit is unbearable, I need something, but I don’t know what. He’s staring at me, his gaze heating my skin, consuming me, and I need him. I want to call out to him, but no words are needed. He slowly lowers himself over me, kissing me. His tongue enters my mouth, possessive and claiming. Not dueling with my tongue, but taming it, allowing me to follow him on this euphoric mating. I capture his bottom lip between my teeth and tug. He pulls back. “Damn it, Phoebe. I’m trying to remain in control.”
    “I don’t want you in control. I don’t want to be in control. I want to feel; I want you to possess me, every inch of me,” he snaps. Clasping my nipple between his lips, he bites down, gently, then harder. I feel dampness on my thighs. His fingers move down my stomach, one circling my clit and the other entering me. I arch up to feel more, pull him deeper, and another growl comes from his chest. My hands begin to wander, sweeping over his chest, his stomach, and finally finding his dick. I encircle my hand around it, reveling in the feel of him and swipe my thumb over the head catching a drop of pre-cum. I bring my thumb to my mouth and suck it off. He quickly jumps off me, and reaches