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A little something sweet for Valentine's Day from Bottled Up


She’s in a sleek beige satin dress that hugs every damn curve and dips down just low enough in the front to make my mouth water. She’s tamed her wild red curls into a sleek pulled-back long ponytail, and my dick twitches when I think about it, wrapped around my fist. There’s a simple long pearl necklace that highlights her delicate collarbone. The flush in her cheeks and flash in her green eyes tell me she approves of my dark suit. I put it on and instantly felt the part. I’m not sure if I’m all this guy anymore, but this costume fits me like a goddamned glove. 

“Come here, Gingersnap. Do a spin. Christ himself wouldn’t resist you.” She smiles. “How am I supposed to focus on making sure we get out alive and they get dead when you look like that?”

It’s breaking my heart that this is the last of the before for us. Our after will be different, but hopefully, we will adapt and change. She’s always talking about the grapes and shit and how you have to work with the change, not against it. The earth and fruit itself give you clues on how to help it become a perfect wine. That’s what I hope we do. Take our clues and become perfect. Although we’re pretty fucking amazing now, the other side of this waits for us.

Poppy grins and smiles and twirls again. Dancing. That’s a good idea. I take her hand and spin her out and back to me, holding her close. I hum The Way You Look Tonight into her ear.

I keep singing to my Gingersnap, but I’m aware of the time, and it’s almost up. Timing is crucial so we don’t end up dead. I kiss Pop. I lean my forehead to hers. 

“Ti amo da morire e ritorno. Sei il mio cuore.”


“You love me to death and back? That’s all?”

“Brat.” I kiss her nose. 

She sighs and holds the back of my neck. “You are my Mobius strip, my love.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

She says exasperated, “No matter where I travel or go, or what I do, it will always loop back to you. We are a continuous loop of all things in life.” 

“In other words, forever?” I say.


“Then just say that.”

“Fine, forever.” She gasps against my lips as I nip at her bottom lip. 

“Oh, my good girl. My smart girl. Let’s go slaughter some people and then I’m going to need to wrap my hand around your hair and direct your mouth again.” 

She kisses me slowly and parts my lips with her tongue, and I’m afraid to find out if it’s the blood lust that turns her on or the Frank Sinatra. Either way, this chapter is already written. In the book of life of Sal Pietro, they all fucking end with this soul-quenching, sunshiny, sassy love of Poppy Goddamned Gelbert. 

I sweep my tongue into her mouth, and we share something that’s just for us. The affirmation that no matter what happens, we own this moment in time. It’s ours, so fuck off everyone.

A voice breaks our spell. “We have to go. We’re out of time.”

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