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I stare down at the ring, the diamond large and full and glittering just like the sea, set within an elegant white gold band, every part of it perfect.
And then I push past the aching emotion and force the word out, the only word I could ever use in this situation.
“Yes,” I yell. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Yes?” he roars, leaping to his feet.
“Of course it’s a yes,” I tell him, giggling. “What other answer could it possibly be? I love you and I want to be with you.”
“Forever,” we say at the same time, as he takes my hand and slips the ring onto my finger.
I hold it to the sun, letting it catch some of the light.
“What do you think?” he asks as he moves his arm around me.
“It’s perfect, Kane. Just like you. Like us. Like what we have. Like everything we’re going to have.”
“I love you so much,” he snarls and then leans down to claim my lips.
I kiss him back, floating in the majesty of this moment. Everything sparkles and intense warmth moves through me, the sort of warmth that tells me happily ever afters really do exist.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Kane
I stare at the ceiling, at the darkness as I try to shift my body into something like comfort.
I’ve spent every single day since the proposal with my woman, moving through Europe together after we left Malta, getting my papers sorted so I could return to my life. I was with her when she saw her parents again, and then she moved into my apartment and we fused our lives together.
Something melted inside us both when we fell in love, the first sight of the other shattering through us.
Like shrapnel, like the IEDs we used to skirt around as we headed toward a fight. There were so many moments like that buried inside of me, and when I saw the love of my life step from the taxi they all melted away.
She says it’s the same for her, as her childish crush turned into a beautiful reality. And after we melted, we became solid again, goddamn whole, because we stayed close and loyal and dedicated.
We were together, always physically close so that I could reach out and palm that curvy spank-me ass whenever I wanted.
Fuck.
I’m getting hard on the night before our wedding, just thinking about her, staring at this dark hotel ceiling. My dick is solid and I bunch my hands into fists, but I can’t stop my thoughts.
A few nights ago – wearing that sexy silk lingerie she loves so much – she crawled to me across the bed, sticking her ass out behind her and shaking it from side to side. She leaned over and took me in her mouth, looking up at me with her wide not-so-naive eyes in that way I like.
Soon I had her on her back, crashing into that tight pink slit as she rubbed her clit. She creamed all down my cock. It was dripping down the edge of the bed, as she squirted over and over. I felt her hole tighten around my dick and then I exploded, reaching down and pushing those juicy big tits together as I filled her with my seed.
“I love you.” She gasped as we fell together, still squirting and vibrating as she spoke. “I love you so much.”
Her hole was kissing me as I thundered in deep, as I exploded, as all the sensation in my body went to the base of my shaft. Roaring and shouting like a fucking bear, I crushed her against the bed and buried my teeth in her shoulder.
“I love you,” I snarled, kissing softly, soothing the place I’d bitten.
We stayed like that for a long time, my woman pulled close to me.
But now we’ve decided to do this whole traditional thing, and it’s driving me crazy. My cock is too damn hard, throbbing in my boxers. I wonder if my horny fiancé is going through the same thing, her small hands pressed between her legs, her finger tickling that needy little clit… a clit that gets so fucking red and ready for me.
Planning the wedding was a hectic thing, arranging to come to Malta and have it in Valetta, at the top of the sloped street so we’d always remember the sea behind us – the same sea that filled us with so much hope for the future all those months ago. All those months. It’s only been three, but I feel like I’ve been fused to my woman for a lifetime.
Forever.
And I’m never letting go.
There’s only one downside. My young curvy woman hasn’t gotten pregnant yet. Every month we wait to hear the news, but nothing changes. Sometimes she gets this look in her eye, as though she’s scared of disappointing me. Or of me disappointing her.
