He unwraps the grandiose birthday badge, and erupts into laughter. The sound of it stirs every part of my body and suddenly I’m eager to get the present-giving out of the way, so that we can move onto that imminent activity.

“Are you working today?” I ask.

“Yes, but I’m having a long lunch with my family, which may or may not turn into having the afternoon off.”

“It must be nice to be the boss,” I tease.

“I owe myself a considerable amount of leave-time which I’ve never once taken. Trust me, baby, as an ex-workaholic it’s a huge step to take time off at all, even for my birthday. But that’s the effect you’ve had on me. Less work, more play,” he grins, looking adorable and sexy in equal proportions. “It’s a healthier balance, I’m sure,” he concludes.

“At least you’ll get to wear it at work this morning,” I press.

“Are you trying to embarrass me?” he laughs, and I nod vehemently.

“OK, open this one next,” I say, picking up the long tube and handing it to him.

I shuffle backwards a bit, knowing that he’ll need space to roll out the photograph that’s within the tube. He looks intrigued as he does so, and only once the photo is fully revealed does he comprehend when and where it was taken.

“Wow!” he breathes.

Still feeling as nervous about this particular gift as I was when I decided to get it, I’m tentative as I ask, “Do you like it?”

He’s silent for a moment as he takes it in. “I love it!” he effuses. “You’re looking at me in this picture,” he notices exactly what I wanted him to.

I nod again. “That’s why I look so enamoured, and my eyes look glazed,” I notice. “I was in a bit of a Logan-Leary-stupor.”

“A what?” he chuckles.

I shrug. “It’s just something that happens to me from time to time. I get lost in contemplation of you, especially on that first day,” I indicate the photograph, “because I’d never felt the type of instant attraction that I had with you. At that exact moment I felt like I was seconds away from orgasming, just because of the intensity of the way you were looking at me.”

“Ah, Amber’s comment at dinner,” he remembers when my best friend embarrassed the shit out of me.

“Exactly,” I giggle.

“Baby…” he stares at the picture again, “this is so gorgeous, so considerate—”

“So vain?” I still worry.

“No,” he shakes his head. “It’s meaningful, Gemima. This is the beginning of us, right here in this photo. Every time I look at it, I’ll remember that moment, being in that courtyard, staring at you in complete admiration.”

Perfect.

“I’m going to hang it in my office, and then I’ll get no work done,” he grins. “Thank you, baby. Thank you so much,” he says, leaning forward to give me a quick kiss.

“You’re more than welcome,” I say, relieved that he likes it so much. “Last one…for now,” I hand him his final present.

He gets halfway through unwrapping it before I stop him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I request. He looks up at me expectantly, looking breathtakingly beautiful. I take a deep breath and begin, “Before you open this one, I just want to tell you that I know it’s kitschy, and I know it’s a cliche…” I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning forward, “but I love you, Logan…” I mutter against his lips, “more than I ever thought I was capable of loving anyone, and though we’ve only been together for, like, two days,” I joke, making him chuckle, “everything in me in certain about you. Completely certain. So this is silly and cutesy,” I indicate the semi-wrapped present, “but I also mean it,” I say. “Unless you hate it, in which case forget what I just said,” I grin.

“I won’t hate it,” he grins back, confidently. A few seconds later the red padlock falls into his lap.

“For a lover’s bridge,” I tell him. “There’s bound to be one left intact somewhere in Paris.”

He beams at me. “When can we go?”

“Whenever you want, baby,” I laugh.

“The sooner, the better,” he says, smiling down at the lock. Then looking up at me once more, he asks, “Did you know that wolves mate for life?”

Humour becomes me. “That name really does suit you.”

“Apparently so,” he laughs too.

“We probably shouldn’t go tonight, though,” I tell him. “I have one more present-thing coming later. A performance, of sorts. A comedic ones,” I add hastily, just in case he starts imagining some sort of lap dance routine. It’s high time for Logan to see my dance routine to The Best.

“We’ve got time now,” he tries his luck.

I shake my head, “I need a full day to psych myself up for this. And besides,” I push the presents and discarded wrapping paper to the side and pull the duvet away from Logan’s lap, uncovering him, “you’ve had your taste, now I want mine,” I grin mischievously.

I want to tease him more than might be kind given that it’s his birthday, but it’ll be worth it; I know it will be. I place my hands on the inside of his knees and run them north, towards his groin. When I repeat this action his hips lift, almost unconsciously, coaxing me to touch his rising penis, but I don’t. I keep winding him up in this fashion, while also leaning forward to kiss his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, my lips moving ever south. My hands and mouth meet at his glory trail, which I graze over repeatedly, using my nails to increase his anticipation. It’s working; he’s fully hard now, his head resting back against the wall, his mouth open and silently mewling. Still I don’t touch the one part of him that craves my touch the most.

Shuffling down the bed, I bring my head to his crotch and lick his inner-thigh, making him twitch involuntarily. Keeping the teasing going, I do it again, switching between his legs, each time get closer and closer to his penis.

He’s straining now, almost desperate for me to take him. Good, I think. Very good!

Ever so lightly I let the fingers of one hand brush over his base while I take ahold of his balls in my other hand and squeeze them gently. The airy groan that issues from him is the sexiest sound in the world.

“Ah, baby,” he tilts his hips forward again, unconsciously presenting himself to me.

I stop everything and watch him: his hands pushing against the mattress, his penis weeping for my attention, his belly rising and falling in time with his rapid breath, the veins tight in his neck, and the earth-shatteringly beautiful expression on his face, conveying the one thing that stands out the most: his unconditional trust in me. He’s not only naked beneath me, but he’s open. Open sexually, open emotionally, the type of open that’s only attained when there’s absolute, unwavering trust between two people. Seeing him like this not only increases my own arousal, but it makes me want to increase his even more. I want to push him to highs that he’s never been to before, and so, instead of taking his waiting penis into my mouth I start my whole windup process from the beginning once more.

It doesn’t take Logan long to realise what I’m doing. “Gemima,” he pants, “if you want that taste you’re going to have to have it now. I’m going to come soon.”

“Hold it,” I tell him, with a smile. “It’ll be worth it,” I repeat his own words from the other night.

“Fuck!” he yells, banging his head back against the wall as I touch his base and cup his balls once more.

Holy shit! It is so satisfying to see him so wild, so undone! My own desire to taste him wins me over and I lean down and caress his end with the very tip of my tongue. I’ve never before heard the sound of satisfaction that issues from him, and I’m on cloud nine. His whole body tenses and I suddenly believe him: he’s close to coming. Very close. But rather than speeding things I up, I take a leaf out of Logan’s book and keep my movements slow and measured, taking his penis all the way into my mouth and revelling in every part of the experience. He feels amazing, he tastes amazing. I scoop my hands under his backside and dig my nails in, bringing him deeper into me, ignoring my gag reflex as best as I can.