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I draw myself out, shuddering at how fucking tight and hot and good she feels. I push back in.
“Ahhhh… Love you, Barrett.”
I hold her gaze. “You more.”
She grunts—and arches up against me. I know what she’s asking for. I stretch out just a little, ignoring the ache in my back as I roll my tongue over her nipple. Gwenna likes it when I bite them, as I fuck her—hard.
I can tell when she’s getting close, because she gets so slick and stops saying my name, jus
t panting as I fill her up and leave her empty, gasping as I fill her up and moaning when I leave. I fucking love the way her body starts to shake. My muscles tighten and I feel myself get even fucking harder. Pleasure spins out from my cock all down my legs, making my lower belly tighten, too. It’s like a roller coaster. I hold onto her.
“Love you, Piglet…”
“Love you.”
Our moans blend together in a symphony of need, and this time, like some others, we come at the same moment. Afterwards, we lie there in each other’s arms and hold on tight.
And Gwenna cries.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“Happy.” She smiles as she wipes her tears. “Tell me you are too.”
“Oh fuck, there’s no one happier than me.”
“You love me lots.”
“And lots.”
“Forever? And ever?” She giggles.
“And ever, and ever, and ever. With everything I have, and everything I am.”
“Can we write our own vows?” she murmurs as her sleepy eyes sag shut.
“I’m all yours, Piglet. Tell me what you need, I make it happen.”
She yawns, smiling. Her hand reaches for my face and cups my scratchy cheek.
“Just you.”
I top it off with dinner while she sleeps. Some of her favorite wine—a strict half glass, and none for me—and then I go into the laundry room and bring out a gardenia. I put it in the center of the table before setting plates for us. I guess she’s tired from the day, because she sleeps while I serve chicken parm and asparagus for both of us, and even find and light a pair of candles.
When she wakes up, she smiles until her eyes are wet. “This was really sweet.”
I shrug.
“You’re really sweet.” She kisses my chin, pulling on my neck so I lean down. We share a slow kiss.
“For you,” I whisper.
“Mine.”
We eat in near silence, just smiling, while the small white flowers look down on us.
“You look hot in my apron.”
It says Hers, and it’s right. This is right. No matter how hard the road here was—for both of us—the destination is where we belonged.
