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“Harder,” she begs. “Harder.”
I give her what she wants, pistoning into her, slamming into her wet, tight pussy. Groans are rippling out of my chest, sweat is beading on my back, the walls feel like they’re expanding and contracting along with our breath—
“I’m coming!” Becca cries out, and then her pussy is pulsing around me, wetness coating my cock. I grunt out a curse and slam into her, flooding her with a hot surge of cum.
Our chests rise and fall against each other as we recover, our bodies radiating heat. I roll onto my back and pull her against me. It’s so damn tempting to ask her to marry me right then and there.
But I’ll do it the way I’ve planned on doing it since the moment I walked out of the jewelry store in my hometown with the engagement ring in my pocket.
Tonight, when the moment is right, I’ll get down on one knee, tell her how beautiful and incredible she is, and ask for her hand in marriage.
Chapter Seven
Epilogue – Adrian
One Year Later
The afternoon sun warms my muscles as I head out to the front paddock. Honey runs at my heels with her new puppies bouncing atherheels.
After I throw the hay over to Goliath—who still refuses to stay within the fences no matter what I do—I survey the nearby fields and the gardens.
So much has changed in a year.
The flower beds that were previously overgrown, dusty, and dry have all been lovingly turned over and watered. My grandmother’s favorite roses and lavender are blooming again at the edges of every bed, and there’s rosemary and sage planted between them. The first thing Becca did when she moved in was take custody of the gardens, and they’ve flourished under her care.
I head back toward the house, casually jogging as I go. The puppies see it as a race and run off ahead of me while Honey trots patiently by my side.
At the house, I get the dogs their dinner, then I hurry upstairs to quickly shower off and put on some clean jeans and a collared shirt. Becca has threatened to get me into dress pants for occasions like this, but so far, I’ve resisted.
As if dress pants could ever match my hat.
I’m whistling as I head out to my truck. The yard looks a bit bare, since Becca just got the old play equipment moved out. I hated to see the old equipment go—it’s been here since I was a boy—even though I knew it was full of rot and termites. But Becca said it was important, so I didn’t argue.
I drive into town, lowering my foot a bit heavier on the gas pedal than normal. I don’t want to be late. I also can’t wait to see Becca. I miss her every moment that I’m apart from her. The beautiful smiles she gives me, the light that blooms in her eyes when she’s thinking over something—they have become like the air I breathe.
When I arrive in town, I find a parking spot and hurry over to the park. The moment I see the gazebo, I’m stunned all over again. It never fails to amaze me, no matter how many times I see it.
The gazebo still has all of its historical charm intact, but now there are wooden pathways on each side leading to raised mezzanines. The expanded performance area was Becca’s idea; she led the renovation project after making sure the community was supportive of it.
Tonight, the crowd is huge, as if the whole town has come out to see the show. There are even vendors scattered around the park selling ice cream and popcorn and other kinds of treats. Children scream with glee as they bolt through the crowd, chasing each other with glowing toys.
My world falls into stillness as Becca comes out onto the main stage. What a vision of beauty my wife is. She blushes just a little as she adjusts the mic, looking stunning in a long red dress.
“Good evening, everyone,” she says into the mic. “Thank you so much for coming tonight.”
After everyone quiets down and turns their attention to her, Becca talks a little about tonight’s production. It’s calledA Little Town, and she wrote and directed it herself.A minute later, when she steps down from the stage, I feel like I’m going to burst, I’m so damn proud of her.
The play is about an hour and a half long, and I spend every moment of it in awe that my sweet girl is the one who created a piece of art like this. There are moments of laughter and moments of sorrow, and by the time the play finishes, the entire audience is on their feet, applauding and cheering as Becca steps up onto the stage to bow with the rest of the cast.
As the crowd breaks up, I lean on a nearby tree, watching people flow around Becca. She turns around in the small circle, trying to give everyone her attention. Everyone wants to shake her hand and ask about the next play.
When Becca first came to live here, she didn’t know what she wanted to do, but show biz was still in her blood. She was worried she might step on the locals’ toes, but in the end, they all fell in love with her and embraced her.
Having fallen for Becca myself, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest.
As the crowd begins to thin, I slowly move forward. When Becca spots me coming, her shoulders straighten up and a smile lights up her face even more.
“That was amazing, Becca,” I say, wrapping her in my arms. “I’m so proud of you.”
