I held Blythe as if I’d keep her forever, as if not even the hand of God could take her away from me.
Because there was only one word that acutely described what she was to me.
Mine.
Epilogue
Logan
One year later
I was hard. So fucking hard my cock throbbed and my balls were pulled up tight. And it was all because Blythe was currently trying to reach for a book on the highest shelf of the bookcase.
I sat in the leather recliner across from her, my back against the cushion and my jean-clad thighs slightly spread as I took on a relaxed position. The fire crackled in the hearth, the only light currently illuminating the living room.
I could have helped her out, easily plucked the book off the shelf and handed it to her, but fuck, seeing how her nightshirt lifted as she reached and reached and reached even higher was a sight too good to interrupt.
“Shit,” she mumbled, clearly not even focused on that I was still in the room and if she would have asked for help, I’d have done it instantly.
My gaze locked on her ass, and I growled. The sound of the fire licking across the wood drowned out the sound, which was good, since I didn’t want this moment to end just yet.
The material was wrapped around the perfect mounds of her ass, her perfect apple-shaped bottom bouncing slightly as she shifted on her feet.
I leaned back, got more comfortable, spread my legs slightly farther, and glanced down. The outline of my cock was thick and long as it lay against my thigh. My jeans barely contained it. I looked back up at the love of my life and stared at her ass again. The material gently lifted as she stretched more, her ass coming into view, that perfect fucking crease where her legs met the cheeks flashing.
Holy fuck. She was so goddamn hot.
That’s it, baby. Reach a little higher. Really struggle to get that book.
She reached a little bit farther again, and her engagement ring caught the light, the solitaire diamond in the center sparkling. I asked her to marry me a couple of months after we made things official. Hell, I would have asked for her hand in marriage that day I was on my haunches in front of her, telling her I wanted forever.
I’d known I wanted her as my wife, that I wanted her in my life forever. I’d known that the moment I spotted her across the room at Morton’s. But hell, I figured I’d give her a little bit of time. As much as I knew she wanted me and cared for me, that she desired the same things in a relationship as I did, there’d been a part of me that worried she’d say no.
But she hadn’t. In fact, she had all but thrown herself at me, kissing my face over and over again as she murmured “yes” repeatedly.
I still smiled as I thought about that.
“Screw this.” She turned around and froze when she saw me watching her. Then her eyes lowered between my thighs, and I knew for a fact that she could see the hard outline of my dick pressing against the denim. No way she could fucking miss it. It was like I was smuggling a baseball bat behind my jeans.
“So you're just gonna sit there and watch me struggling?” There was no anger or heat behind her words… not that kind of heat at least.
I could see the way her pupils dilated, noticed the way her nipples hardened under the thin material.
“What can I say? I was enjoying the view.”
She was getting worked up, her eyes still locked on my massively hard cock. I bet she was wet for me. I knew she wore no panties under that nightgown.
I groaned at the thought of that, at the vision that slammed into my head. “Come here,” I said deeply, beckoning her. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t even try to put up a fight.
When she was within reach, I curled my hands around her waist and easily lifted her off the ground, hauling her up so she was now straddling my waist, her knees pressed on either side of me, her legs parallel with my thighs.
I felt her fucking heat right through the jeans, and a harsh groan ripped from me as I let my head fall back on the cushion. I looked up at her, feeling my eyes lower to half-mast as my arousal took the front seat.
My erection throbbed, and I had no doubt pre-cum was making a steady wet spot in the front of my pants. With my hold still on her hips, I pushed her down so her bare pussy came up right against my thickness. Her eyes rolled back right before she closed her eyes, her lips parting, the air leaving her softly.
“That’s it,” I murmured encouragingly, but I wanted to feel skin on skin, the slick honey slipping from her perfect pussy sliding along my hard cock. “Take me out, Blythe.” My voice was nothing more than a growl, but she complied right away, reaching between us and undoing the button before pulling the zipper down.
She reached inside the fly and grabbed my dick, with a little help from me shifting my hips so the length could become free from the tight confines of the pants.
I grunted from the contact, at the feel of her little warm hand trying to wrap around my thickness. Her hand was tiny in comparison, her fingers unable to touch as she curled them around my girth.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “That’s it, baby. That’s so it.” I kept watching her with what I knew were hooded eyes. “More,” I grunted when she started stroking her palm up and down my cock. My mouth parted as the air slammed out of me harshly.
I could only stand a few more seconds of her erotic torture before I was pushing her hand away and grabbing myself. She moaned as she rose up on her knees, knowing exactly what I wanted. The crown of my cock was placed at her sweet, honeyed entrance, and then she was sinking down.
I barked out a groan as she sank lower and lower, her tight hotness enveloping every inch of me.
When she had fully taken all of me, I breathed out and said, “Ride me, Blythe.” I curled my fingers tightly into her skin, knowing there’d be fingerprint-sized bruises on her flesh come morning. That thought had me growling in possessiveness, the very idea of having my mark on her—even if I was the only one who would see it—causing my cock to jerk deep within her.
She started moving then, her hands on my shoulders, her body arching up and above mine. After a few seconds, she really started pounding down on my dick, lifting up so the head barely breached her entrance, then sliding back down. I stayed still, letting her take control, giving her that power, but with each passing second, my self-restraint faded.
I felt my orgasm rising up swiftly and clenched my teeth, knowing I had to take control. I started lifting my hips up, feeding her my cock, driving that length back into her at the same time I used the hold I had on her body to push her back down. I did this in tandem, lifting her up at the same time I retreated, then bringing her back down as I thrust back in deep.
She was making mewling sounds, high-pitched cries of her pleasure that spurred me on. My balls were so tight I knew my orgasm would explode out of me and fill her up completely. And as I looked down at her chest, saw the mounds of her breasts bouncing, I grew frantic to see every part of her.
With a fierceness that encompassed me wholly, I gripped the collar of her shirt and in one swift move—my biceps bulging from the force—I tore that material right down the center. The shirt gaped open, and I wasted no time shoving it off her shoulders so it fell to the ground.
And then I looked my fill, her tits bouncing as she continued to ride me, her nipples peaked and hard. My mouth watered, and I didn’t stop myself from leaning forward and capturing one of those peaks in my mouth, drawing the tip inside, dragging my tongue along it before gently biting on her.