The Women of Custer City Ch. 23

"And it fits her?"

"A little big actually," I laughed, "But I'm not too worried about losing it."

Emma finally leaned back, satisfied with her inspection, "Then go for it."

I gave another small sigh, watching as my sister turned her back on me. She was making her way to the kitchen, already pouring herself a glass of water.

"I won't say congratulations just yet," she winked, "We both know a planned proposal doesn't mean wedding bells."

I didn't find it quite as funny, but did my best to keep the sourness from my expression.

"That is still wild to me," she said, another sip of water, "One day you're in love, a perfect proposal all planned out, the next you tell me you've been trapped for more than a decade, stuck reliving the same day over and over, hating each other's guts."

She gulped her water. I watched as she took another sip, her eyes locked with mine, when suddenly they started to grow.

"Charlie," she said, her voice hesitant, "I think I know where Sadie is."

I was already defensive, "I told you, we've looked at every square inch of our relationship, we can't even find a clue-"

"What if it's not in your past?" Emma asked, her voice serious, "What if it's in your future?"

She set the glass down. Her bespectacled eyes were locked on mine, a small grin sprouting when she realized I hadn't checked.

"Think about it," Emma said, building her case, "Think about what she said, if you ever really loved me. Charlie. You were planning to propose. That's where she is- it has to be!"

I shook my head. Not because Emma was wrong, but because I was tired of Sadie's games.

"Later," I promised, "I'll look into it when I get the chance."

I held up the ring, determination plain in my expression, "But there's more important things than Sadie. She doesn't control my life anymore."

With Amanda, I didn't have some perfect proposal planned out. I didn't have a dream destination, a perfect dinner, not even a recreation of our first date. I'd pictured a few dozen scenarios; a night in the tree house, a fancy restaurant, but the more I thought about it, all that mattered was the girl. The rest of the world, trapped in the time loop, didn't matter. The perfect spot, at the perfect moment didn't mean a damn thing when Amanda and I were together. That's all it took.

So I went home. I wore nice clothes, but it's not like I got a haircut. My nerves were high enough that the idea of sitting still seemed as daunting as Sadie's riddles. Besides, I thought, half convincing myself, I should still look like myself right? I'm asking her to marry me, not some stylized, fake version of myself.

I couldn't count the number of voices rattling around my head by the time I finally saw her. All I could do was hope I kept it inside, and my shaking wasn't quite noticeable.

There weren't any reservations about her though. Even if I had doubts, just the tiniest sliver, they went away when I saw her. She'd worn her hair in their natural curls, the brightest smile when she saw me.

"Hey," she said, her nose already scrunching, "I missed you."

I noticed everything about her. The glimmer in her eye, the cute little way she rolled up on the balls of her feet, rising in rhythm with her words. She had a genuine excitement to see me, so authentic is flared across her body, her jittery hands, her nonstop smile-

Any plans I might have had went out the window.

The ring felt like lead in my pocket, and I knew I couldn't swing a full night trying to act normal as I built up romance.

"Amanda," I started, the rattling in my voice clear as day. My hands didn't seem to move in sync with my body. They fumbled against my shirt, feeling for the ring. She never stopped smiling.

"I have loved you," I sighed, "As long as I can remember. You've always been my best friend, and there's never anyone I want to spend time with more than you, Amanda-"

I was aware enough to kneel, but she'd always been the brighter between us. She knew the question before I asked it, and answered before I held out the ring."

"Of course."

My memory of that night was a blur. All my expectations were focused on the logistics, what a marriage in a timeloop actually meant, things like that. But that wasn't the night for that. The night I proposed was a night for celebration.

Suddenly she was on me. Her arms held the back of my head tightly, every muscle in them flexing. Her kissing was aggressive, pure uncontrollable ecstasy.

Her mind was going a million directions at once. She wanted to rest herself against me, feel me. She wanted to kiss me, she wanted her shirt off- she wanted my pants down. Her head kept darting back and forth, her eyes unfocused as they tried to make a decision. I felt her kisses, a half dozen from neck to lips to cheek. I felt her trembling hands on my belt, her breasts pressed against my skin.

Everything I saw came in strobes. I saw her panting face, her sweaty hair clinging to her skin. I saw a glimpse of her nipple, a palm cupping my cheek. I saw myself nude, I saw the world turn sideways.

I was lying on the ground, my naked fiancé towering over me. She gave her pussy an anticipatory cup, as she straddled me, her fingers running slowly back and forth. The same blissful confusion took hold of me. My hands fluttered up, outside my control. They wanted to rest against the coffee table, cross behind my head, and guide her waist all at the same time.

I lay there, my arms sporadic with disbelief, Amanda, lowering herself into a squat. She settled over my penis, guiding it with her grip. A drop of spit fell, a quick stroke made me twitch, and she slid me in.

She pressed firmly. She let her legs go wide, drilling into the ground. She grabbed my waist, using my body as leverage, and pressed herself as deep as I could go. I felt bones against my skin, the flatness between her legs.

Amanda didn't start riding. Her knee drifted forward, and her hips started to grind. Her waist moved in slow, deliberate rolls, my cock never slipping more than an inch from the deepest point.

I felt every sensation. She rode with so much pressure it felt like she could control my hips with hers. Every tremble, every heartbeat felt shared.

The speed quickened. She kept grind-riding, digging herself against my pelvis. She fucked with an animalistic determination, her eyes wild, her hair coated in sweat.

The sensation of awe never lessened, but I'd started to gain a little more control of myself. I reached for her, feeling her glistening skin, sliding up her ribs, cupping the side of her breast. For a moment I wasn't fucking, I was standing in a museum, the first critic to ever see Michelangelo's David. I felt her bodies magical curves, pure disbelief that she could ever love me back.

My hips rocked with hers, our bodies in perfect harmony. I saw the way she shuddered, felt the way every muscle squeezed, the orgasm rippling through her. I felt her grab at my chest hair, twisting for grip as she tried to keep herself upright.

By the time I came, our bodies were sore, twinges of pain all over. My eyes rolled back and I gave a soft moan. Even as she sat up, I was still cumming, and spurts fell across her stomach. She toyed the mess, guiding it back towards her legs.

I felt like every emotion, every little stressor I had released all at once. I felt a numbness spread through my core, complete satisfaction now that my muscles had started to react. But Amanda was nowhere near done.

I hadn't seen her put the wedding ring on when the night flashed by in strobing lights, but I saw it now. She wore it and admired it, her dimples clear as glee washed over her. She grinned like a psychopath. I started to rise just as she leaned back. She was watching the ring, watching as it followed her fingers into my cum. She reached between her legs, her eyes rolling as she felt the ring inside her.

I stood, coated in sweat, my muscles still ringing. Her eyes were wide and determined, watching me now. She pressed into herself, harder and harder, her fuck-me-eyes growing more sultry.

I couldn't take it anymore. Seeing my fiancé, soaked in sweat and cum, still horny for more, was too much to handle.

That's when my night became another series of flashes. I was on top of her. We were fucking. We laughed when I came, both exhausted. She was jerking me off, I was eating her out.

I don't know how many times we fucked that night, but our emotions kept us going. We stopped a few times for champagne, once to towel off.

To this day, I still don't know how the night ended. Maybe it was just a blackout, we got too drunk and we time traveled to the next day. Maybe we fucked ourselves to exhaustion and just fell asleep. Even if someone told me we fucked ourselves to death, I wouldn't be too surprised.

All either of us really remember is that was one of the greatest nights of our lives, we were in love, and we were engaged.

We weren't the only ones who knew about our engagement.

Sadie knew.

To this day, I have no idea how she kept tabs on us. Maybe it's like a computer with security cameras that she can switch between, watching the timeloop as she pleases. Maybe it's a book she reads with all the days events. Hell, maybe she walks around like a ghost, an observer between worlds.

Somehow Sadie knew that night that I had proposed to Amanda.

"God. Fucking. Damnit." She thought, "I'm never gonna end this stupid loop."