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“Get up.” Fuck, I couldn’t take it anymore. Reaching down, I grabbed onto her arm and pulled her up. It was torture to take her mouth from my dick, but I needed to come, and it was going to be fucking inside her. I spun her around, making sure she was stable before pushing back inside her heat. The mewling that came from her lips spurred me on and I grabbed onto her hips.
It was the purchase I needed to drive into her.
“Fuck, Miles!” Her walls tightened around me and her sounds were becoming louder. My thrusts became harder, demanding. I wanted her to come. Need it. The come churned in my balls, ready to burst. To paint her. “Baby, I need you to come. Bathe my cock.”
“Hunter…I…oh my God,” she yelled out. The second her walls clamped down, her head was thrown back. My hips slammed against her ass, unable to take it any longer.
“Jesus Christ,” I gritted out, legs shaking. Sweet relief rushed up my shaft, each pulse filling her cunt.
Carefully, I lowered us down into the water. It was cooler now, and I reached out with my foot to turn the hot back on.
Her back was against my chest, the aftershocks shaking us both.
For minutes we were quiet. Basking in the afterglow.
The beauty of just being us.
Tomorrow would be our last night here and then we’d be back to reality. That thought didn’t sit well with me.
Bailey wouldn’t be leaving with me when I’d head home on Wednesday. In fact, she wouldn’t be moving to Pensacola for another month. We were new and in love, and I needed more than what was probably rational to ask for.
She looked back at me from over her shoulders then, concern on her face. “You okay?”
She loves me. “Move in with me?”
***
Epilogue #1:
More Than Words
Hunter
A Year and A Half Later
“HONEY, I’M HOME,” Bailey called out into our apartment. The sound of our door closing was followed by our cat’s meow. We adopted her about a week after my girl decided it was finally time to move in.
Abby was our baby and a spoiled brat like her mother.
My little B. had wanted the full college experience when she made the move to Pensacola. She’d decided that moving into the dorm rooms was the right thing for her, and I won’t deny that I was disappointed, but I also understood her need to be on her own.
To taste the freedom that came with being an adult and away from home for the first time. So, with the help of family, we moved her in and I waited for her to get fed up.
Because she would and did.
Not everything was as she thought it’d be, and within a month she hated the girl she’d been paired with, a simpering airhead that’d been ridden hard and put away used.
However, I pushed her to play nice and try befriending her roommate. I gave her advice when asked. An ear to listen when the need to vent became too much.
But then again, that’s what relationships were about: compromise and understanding.
We were both working toward the same goal, and I needed to be patient. Give in now and collect my reward later.
Often, Bailey spent the night at my place.
We cooked together, washed clothes, and hung out like all normal couples do. She got to experience what our lives could be a few times a week, and I literally watched as her resolve caved.
It also didn’t help that Emily and Thomas lived in my building four floors down. She saw how happy Emi was and how they made it work with a full school load and Thomas’s part-time job at a restaurant close by.
