Roses in Heaven

Chapter 12: What It Means to Love

My friends, Kate and her husband Justin, had planned a nice dinner party because they opened a new art museum and hired me as one of the artists to work there.
Dinner was delicious because of the juicy roast beef atop of white rice and a side of homemade succotash. Grace reapplied her wine-colored lipstick after the food then went over to the bathroom.
"You are one lucky man, David," said Justin, nudging at me.
My face coloring, I replied, "You don't have to say that."
"It's true; I can see the love and desire in both of your eyes."
Kate attacked her husband by slapping a deck of cards across the back of his head.
"Does Grace play cards?"
Speaking of Grace, she walked beside me, wiping her wet hands with a towel.
"Grace, have you played poker?"
"No, but I like to give it a shot," she said.
After we played a few rounds, Grace won the games and we told Kate we had to go. In the car, Grace continuously flapped the fresh one hundred dollars in her hands and chuckled deviously.
"You sound evil, my dear," I teased.
"That's probably because I played poker for the first time and I won. $100! Can you believe that I got $100?"
"Ooh, I could just snap!" I cheerfully lied.
"Well, we can share it," she said.
"Good idea."
"When are we getting home?" she groaned sleepily.
"We should be"-
I saw the apartments and stopped the engine.
"We're here," I finished.

I unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting Grace go in first. She took off her headband and pulled out a makeup wipe to gently remove all of the cosmetics.
I stripped myself down to my boxers, running my hands through my hair when I felt Grace's small palms smooth over my back to my shoulders. I peered over my shoulder, seeing her corgi-sized figure holding me tight. A smile was glued to my face when I turned around, lifting her up, and wrapping her short legs about my waist. My fingers combed through her hair, kissing her after. She clasped my head with both hands and murmured, "Make love to me." I carried her to bed, unwrapping her from my body so I can I unclip her garters from the stockings to tug them off with her panties. She helped me take off her bra then she pushed my head down to her mound. I lowered her back to the sheets while I attached my lips to her wet vulva, wriggling my tongue into her honey-sweet vagina; sucking her sensitive nub of pleasure until equally-as-sweet liquid poured out of Grace.
She grabbed my shoulders to shove me on my back, tearing off my boxers and handled my engorged penis as she straddled herself onto me.
I held her hips in place when she rocked them repeatedly, milking my phallus dry and licked at my nipples; biting my pectorals.
"But, Grace," I whimpered, my throat containing my orgasm.
"I'm on the pill."
"Just wanted to make sure," I said, gritting my teeth when she gave herself one last thrust of her hips, her fluids spilling out of her urethra.

I brushed my hand across her back as she slept. We switched the sheets and put the dirty ones in the washer. As I was shifting to cuddle with her, she asked, "Is this what it means to love?"
"What is?"
"Having sex?"
"Oh, there's way more than just that."