Page 139 of Theta

"A hunch?" she repeats, sounding surprised.

I laugh. “Well, she said 'hoonch' but yes."

Story snort-laughs. "My skepticism was the word, not the pronunciation, you goof."

I shrug. “It was her word. She had a hunch that I was gonna ask you."

"What did Dad say?"

"That…" my throat goes tight and I clear it gruffly before continuing. "That he would be honored to consider me a son. He said…he said he sees how happy you are with me. How good we are for each other. He said that he couldn't imagine anyone more perfect for you than me."

"Neither can I," Story says, and then leans this way and that, looking out of the open door as if looking for someone or something.

"What are you looking for?" I say, amusement tingeing my voice.

"The priest or reverend or whatever. I want to marry you right now."

I laugh and pull her down to the bed, pin her, and kiss her. "I think your parents and mine would probably like to be involved.”

She caresses my cheek. “Yeah, maybe. I just want to be Mrs. Story Harris."

“I dunno.” I frown. "You should keep Binyamin. A hyphen, maybe, if you really want. But…yeah. You should definitely keep Binyamin."

She sniffles, tears filling her eyes. “Really?"

“God yes. Of course! She adopted you out of a hellish situation. It's…your bond with her is incredibly unique and special, and that name is part of it."

"Story Binyamin-Harris," she murmurs. "I like it."

"Me too."

She gazes up at me, eyes glittering wet. "God, I love you. I didn't think I could love you any more, and then you go and propose to me with my birth mother's engagement ring." She cradles my nape and pulls me down for a kiss. "You're everything. You know that?"

She reaches between us and finds me and brings me to life and fits me inside her and I fill her with myself, and then we're together again and moving and breathing and kissing as one, and it's slow and lazy and loving and takes forever for us to find our completion together. Her eyes never leave mine. She caresses me and clasps me to her breasts as I lose myself in her all over again, and when we're both panting and sweaty and finished, she pets my back and shoulders, kisses me softly and endlessly.

"Welcome to forever," I whisper.

She only nuzzles closer, nestled against me, hands exploring, fingers tracing, trailing.

"Forever and a day, please," she whispers back. “Because forever just isn't gonna be long enough."

No, it really won't be.

Epilogue

Hottie Operator

Um, shit.

I'm really, really fucked.

Big time fucked. The most fucked. And not the fun, can't walk right the next day, still leaking cum down my thigh kind of fucked.

This is a clusterfuck of epic proportions, and I'll be lucky to get away with my life.

It was supposed to be an easy job. The type of thing I do best: get in silently and undetected, make the grab, and get out. No muss, no fuss. I've done it a hundred times, a thousand; I’ve been doing this shit since I was thirteen.

I'm huddled in a dark closet clogged with the stench of high-end leather, the scent tickling my throat and making it hard to breathe correctly as I watch the mark. A sliver of light streams through the crack where the door doesn't quite meet the frame; I put my eye to it, and I can see glimpses of the room beyond.