Epilogue Two
“Absolutely not.” My voice sounds firm to my own ears, but I already know I’m going to break. Anything for Gwen, right?
“Give me one good reason,” she retorts, not turning to me at all, keeping her eyes on the shiny motorcycle in front of her.
I should not have let her in here while I was changing the oil. I should not have craved her attention and presence so much that I practically salivated when she perched her round ass on my workbench and propped her feet on the back of the barstool I keep tucked underneath.
“First, motorcycles are death traps.” That gets a glare over her shoulder.
“Riding a motorcycle cannot be statistically more dangerous than being married to you, or than half of the other shit you’ve taught me to do.” She smiles and turns back to run her fingertip over the handlebars.
Internally, I try to get my dick under control. God, I love it when she torments me.
It’s been a journey, learning that. Unearthing the desires I’ve kept buried without ever truly recognizing they existed. Every time we fuck, or talk about fucking, or even just touch each other, I learn something new about myself. I can see it happening for her, too. She’s bolder. Demanding but always caring. Soft and controlled. Perfect.
“Second, this bike is way too big for you, and before you make some god-awful joke about the size of things you already ride…” Her head tips back in a laugh and warmth like sunshine fills me at the sound of her approval. “You choose a bike based on a bunch of factors, like height and inseam. Learning to ride on a motorcycle you can’t control can be deadly.”
Her fingers drift over the controls a little longer before she turns on her toes and leans back against the seat.
“Okay, if you say so.” Her smile is small, delicate, and dangerous, and it doesn’t fool me for a second.
“There’s no way that convinced you.”
“You convinced me I need to learn safely, using the correct equipment,” she replies coyly, just a hair too much innocence laced in her tone. I narrow my eyes, waiting for whatever is coming next. “So I’ll go take lessons.”
Her little shrug sets a fire in my blood, and I’m honest to god starting to think I enjoy burning for her.
“And where, exactly, do you think you’re going to find these lessons?” I’ve already got an image of Gwen in tight pants, high boots, and leather that’s going to be imprinted on the inside of my eyelids for the rest of my life. I am not sharing that with a single soul.
“Diego runs fleet, right?” she asks, referring to the twenty-two-year-old hellion that she met when she asked to learn more about Syndicate operations. “I’m pretty sure he can drive and pilot every vehicle on the planet. It wouldn’t be too much trouble for him.”
I think of Diego with his underdeveloped prefrontal cortex salivating over my wife as he shows her how to position her legs, and I reconsider my rule against murdering staff.
“Or Lily?” she asks, dusting off her hands and pushing off my bike, making her way toward the door to the house.
I’m frozen in place thinking about Ana’s defacto bodyguard, a woman I’ve seen tape people’s eyes open and slice into them with a scalpel, reaching around Gwen from behind and adjusting her grip on the accelerator. I briefly run through a list of Arctic-adjacent assignments I could stick Lily with for the foreseeable future.
I know Gwen is doing this to get a rise out of me, and she’s hellishly good at it, but I feel this swirl of deep possessiveness and need to be the one to teach her this. To teach her everything, to learn from each other. It’s probably incredibly toxic to believe that I can provide her with everything she’s ever needed or wanted, that I can be the person to fulfill every desire, but I do. Because I don’t just feel possessive over her—I am desperate for her to be possessive of me, too.
“No,” I start toward her, and she smirks at me over her shoulder. “Please, Gwen, I’ll teach you. I want to teach you.”
When she faces me, her expression is filled with a little triumph and a lot of joy. And that’s what I really wanted. To be the one to inspire that look.
“I really don’t mind asking someone else, Charlie,” she replies, sweet and sinful, and I want to tell her to ask me for the world. For heaven and hell and everything in between.
“I want to. Please,” I say, reaching behind me to pick up a spare helmet and hold it out to her. “How about I take us on a ride and you can see how you feel on it?”
She grins so wide that it’s got to hurt and pulls her hair into a low ponytail. When she’s ready, I slip the helmet onto her, shifting it around to make sure it”s snug and comfortable before tilting her head up to snap the clasp. She’s already in jeans and tennis shoes, so I toss her my leather jacket to cover her bare arms in case something happens, but I already know this will be the safest ride of my life.
By the timewe’re cruising up to the park almost an hour later, her grip has loosened on my torso. At every stop, I squeeze her calf, and she runs her hand over my thigh. Riding has always been peaceful for me, but there’s something almost Zen-like about having her experience this with me.
There’s an overlook that Catalina and Sammy have hiked that is both secluded and motorcycle-friendly, as long as you’re not caught by park police, so I search for the turnoff as we roll down the roadway. The dirt road is uneven, and her thighs tighten behind me, her body stiffening more as we follow the path. I take things slow, keeping an eye out for signs of hikers, but it’s late morning on a weekday and there were no cars in the parking area, so I assume we’re in the clear.
When we finally get to the overlook, I shut the engine off and pat Gwen’s thigh to let her know she can move. Her legs are a little wobbly as she ungracefully slips off the bike, and I catch her hand before she tumbles over. The long arms of my jacket are shucked up around her wrists, but she has a hard time getting her helmet off on her own, so I tilt her head up and unclip it for her before removing mine.
“I fucking loved that,” she says, nearly breathless as she smooths away the hair that’s stuck to her forehead with sweat. She throws her arms around my torso, still holding her helmet, and hugs me so hard that the breath is knocked out of me for a second. “Thank you, Charlie.”
Before I can respond, she unwraps herself from me, places her helmet on the seat of the bike, and walks to the edge of the lookout, pulling her hair out of the tie as she goes.
It’s unseasonably cool today, and a constant breeze keeps the humidity from settling too much around us. Gwen teases her hair at the root, letting the wind pick it up and blow it over her shoulder. The sun is high and bright over our heads, warming my skin and reflecting off her like light on water. Against the backdrop of early summer, she looks peaceful, copper red and soft blush against endless green and blue.
My helmet still hangs loosely by my side as I walk up next to her, taking in the view of Shenandoah. I prefer it here in the fall, when the shades of orange and yellow blend with the sunset, but it’s still gorgeous.
“Why’d you pick here to drive to?” she asks, bumping her shoulder against my arm.
“It’s one of the few views I know of that’s semi-private that you can get to by bike,” I respond, shrugging against her touch.
“You could have driven me to a parking lot.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Or just around the neighborhood. But thank you for picking somewhere so lovely.”
We sit in silence for a bit, the warmth of her body just barely touching mine, the creaking and rustling of the endless trees all we can hear. After a few minutes, she bumps my arm again.
“Why did you want to take me somewhere semi-private?”
The effect of her words in that tone is almost immediate. All the adrenaline from the ride, from her body wrapped around mine, comes roaring back through my veins. I want to think of something clever to say, but when I look at her, she’s already got heat and trust in her eyes, and the look of her wanting me the way I want her erases all words from my mind. I finally shake myself.
“No nefarious intent, I promise, but I’m open to any shameless ideas you have.”
The grin she gives me in response to that is electrifying, and she walks me backwards toward the bike like she already has something in mind.
“Hands on the seat,” she directs, and like she controls my body more than I do, they follow her direction.
Her helmet rolls away somewhere and I don’t pretend to care. The little smile and nod she gives me fills my chest with a sense of fulfillment, so small and yet so addicting, that I want to chase the feeling over and over and over. She moves closer until she’s pressed up against me, her mouth against my jaw, so close as her lips whisper against my skin.
“You’re going to keep your hands there until I tell you that you can move, okay?” She traces one hand over my shoulder and down my arm until she locks her fingers over mine. “Shift your weight now so you’ll be comfortable and safe leaning against the bike.”
I do as she asks, shifting my hips so I’m forcing the bike further into the kickstand. A pleased kiss against my jaw nearly has a groan slipping from me, but I hold back.
“You know, on the drive over here, all I could think was, my husband would give me anything I asked for,” she says calmly, shucking off my jacket and dropping it on the grass between us. “You’d teach me how to ride, and you’d protect me while we do it, and I wondered how I could possibly show you I’d also do anything for you.”
My heart is beating out of my fucking chest as she sinks to her knees in front of me, her nails scoring my thighs through my jeans as she finds a comfortable position. Every time she touches me it feels like lightning under my skin, and my body is warring between holding still so she’ll continue, and yanking her on top of this bike and wringing every last drop of pleasure from her.
“You know you do so much for me,” I grit out, trying to hold on to my sanity. “More than I could have ever asked for.”
She brushes her hand over my cock, and I jerk involuntarily. Given the look in her eyes, pupils blown so wide that the black of them nearly swallows her brown irises, that’s what she wants. Me falling apart for her; me losing control for her; me listening to her direction in spite of it all. Fuck, I want that, maybe more than she does.
“I know. And I want to do this too.” She takes a breath. “I’m going to suck your cock, Charlie, and I’m going to make myself come while I do it.” Her voice is breathy but controlled as she reaches down and undoes the fly of her jeans, rolling them open until a sliver of black fabric becomes visible. This time I can’t control the groan. “And if you’re good and listen to what I say, if you don’t move your hands, don’t touch me, don’t come,” her voice skips as she slips her fingers over her underwear, “then I’ll let you make me come, too.”
Jesus fucking Christ. I’m nodding, even though I’m on fucking fire and have no clue if I can follow her instructions.
“Please, Gwen, anything,” I beg, my grip on the seat tightening as she undoes my belt, the click of the buckle only ramping up my heart rate. Her movements are slow and teasing as she undoes the button and gently pulls my zipper down, the vibration of it nearly unbearable against my dick.
She yanks her hair back into the tie and I can’t fucking stand how beautiful she is. Cheeks flushed and eyes shining, it’s undeniable how much this turns her on, and it’s impossible not to realize how lucky I am.
My jeans, with the belt still in the loops, are around my thighs in an instant, and all that separates me from the touch she’s ghosting over my thighs, my cock, my ass, are tight black boxers being stretched to their limit. I could come from this feeling alone, from her touching and teasing, but I don’t lean into the feeling, biting back the flood of adrenaline.
“Fuck, Charlie, you’re so hard for me,” she breathes, running her nails lightly down my pulsing cock, forcing a whimper out of me that has her smiling. Her fingers hook my waistband and my breathing is erratic as she slips my boxers down.
Her hands, her lips, her breath against me is going to drive me insane. Soft kisses on my thighs, the back of her knuckles on the underside of my shaft. I can hear her muttering curses and exclamations under her breath, and I can see the hand now slipped between her thighs is moving in slow circles.
I’m about to ask out loud, like an idiot, if it’s truly possible for her to get this turned on by getting on her knees for me, when she carefully draws her hand from her jeans and sits back on her feet, holding her fingers out in front of her.
They’re dripping wet, evidence of her arousal coating her fingers and her palm, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to reach for her.
“Fuck, Gwen,” I choke out, because she leans forward and traces one slick finger on the underside of my cock, making me jolt. A soft laugh mingles with my groan in the cool summer air as she uses her arousal as lube, stroking me until my vision spots at the edges.
“So good for me, Charlie,” she murmurs, licking the taste of her own pussy off my cock.
I’m going to fucking die.
She doesn’t say anything else. She just keeps her eyes locked on mine as she slips her left hand back in between her thighs and wraps her mouth around the tip of my cock.
It’s possible that nothing has felt this good in my entire life. I would think I was having an out-of-body experience, watching Gwen fuck herself with her fingers with my cock in her mouth, if it wasn’t the waves of pleasure bordering on pain crashing over me. My nails are biting through the leather of the seat of the bike as I hold myself back from grasping her hair, touching her face.
She’s not hesitant, but exploratory, watching my face for any reaction to what she’s doing to me. The hand not fucking herself moves between grasping the base of my cock to cupping my balls to scratching my thigh, each change eliciting some unholy sound from me. She moves from licking to sucking, pumping me while her lips are tight at my crown to taking me deep into her throat.
I know I’m panting at her, begging for something that I can’t explain. To let me come, for her to come, for her to stop, for this never to end. Flush creeps down her cheeks and chest and her movements become less coordinated, spit dripping down her chin as her fingers move quickly against her clit. She’s moaning against my cock and I’m saying her name over and over again, drawing blood with how hard I’m biting the inside of my lip to keep myself from coming down her throat. It’s nearly fucking impossible when she takes me as far as she can, her free hand pulling my hip as close to her as possible, her throat constricting around my cock as she rocks her hips against herself.
She breaks apart with me down her throat in an image that will be replayed every time I have to spend a night away from her. Tears leaking down her face, breathing hard from her nose, her cries muffled against my cock that she’s still sucking. She lets the waves of her orgasm roll in and out as her movements become slower, more languid. And while I barely fucking staved off relief of my own, it feels like the edge has been taken off just a little watching her come.
She releases me from her mouth slowly, cleaning herself up as she does. I’d do it for her—I want to do it for her—but she hasn’t told me I can move yet. She stands as she pulls her fingers from herself, covered in the evidence of her orgasm.
“You did so fucking good for me, Charlie,” she praises, holding her glistening fingers out to me. “Go ahead.”
It’s all the permission I need to lean forward and suck her fingers into my mouth, tasting her like the gift she is. When I’m done, she leans forward and places a soft kiss on my lips, my cock brushing painfully against her stomach.
“Would you like to make me come now?” She asks, her voice warm and satisfied, but still carrying a note of anticipation.
“Please, yes, please,” I chant, the sweet pain of restraining myself from coming pulsing through me. I pull my boxers and jeans back up, leaving the belt undone, and she switches our positions so she’s leaning against the bike now.
“You’re going to make me come with your fingers,” she says, slipping off her shoes and shimmying down her jeans. “Just your fingers, Charlie. Not your mouth. And when you do, I’ll let you bend me over this bike and fuck me.”
I’m on my knees in front of her before she even has to ask. Her ass, barely covered by her plain black underwear, slides up so she’s leaning on the seat of the motorcycle. Her knees fall open, and I trace her calves, her thighs, her ankles, every inch of skin I can, with a featherlight touch.
She’s already so wet, the fabric of her underwear damp as I ghost over her. Each little touch has her letting out a soft sigh, her legs twitching slightly when I touch the sensitive spot behind her knee.
I pick up one of her legs and drape it over my shoulder, opening her up for me further. I adjust, finding the right angle to continue teasing her. Without thinking, I press a kiss into her thigh as I put pressure on her clit.
Her hands are in my hair immediately, yanking me away from her.
“What did I say? Fingers only.” Her voice is tight with desire, and I circle my thumb over her clit again. Her head tilts back on a moan.
“You said I could only make you come with my fingers. My mouth isn’t anywhere near your perfect cunt,” I say, getting as close to her as I can without actually licking her skin, which is what I desperately want to do.
“Every way you touch me gets me closer to coming, Charlie,” she pants, and I’m nearly delirious with how incredible those words make me feel. “So, hands only.”
I nod, pulling back and tracing her pussy over her underwear again and again. Soft moans fill the air around us, as I work closer to her clit on every circle.
Right before I reach where I know she wants me, I pull the fabric covering her to the side and slip two fingers inside her. She cries out my name, and I keep my other hand gripped on her knee to stop myself from stroking my cock while she screams for me.
She’s so fucking gorgeous, the foot still on the floor to balance her lifted onto her toes, her back arched and her head tipped toward the sky. I desperately want her bare in front of me on this bike, freckled skin and perfect pink nipples on display for me as she rides my hand.
She’s so wet, and it’s easy to slip a third finger in, arching them against her g-spot with every thrust. She’s so close, her pussy clamping around me, and I lean forward to suck her clit, desperate to see her come.
Again, she’s yanking me backward, and this time, both of us let out a frustrated groan.
“I was so close, baby,” she whines, her fingers pulling at the root of my hair so I have to look up at her. “You’re not doing a great job at listening today.”
She’s not upset, despite being obviously frustrated. Actually, there’s a pleased little gleam in her eyes. I know she loves seeing how I can’t help myself around her. How I always need more—to touch her more, to taste her more, to fuck her more. She wants me unbound, and she always gets what she wants.
“I’m sorry, mio filo,” I apologize, pumping the fingers still inside her in and out. Her breath catches, but she keeps her eyes on me.
“If you can’t listen, I guess we’ll have to make sure you follow directions,” she says, her eyes glazed over. I don’t know what she means, but I’ll do whatever she says if she keeps looking at me like that. “Stop fucking me and put on your helmet.”
I hesitate for just a moment, and she gives me the time to think it over. This is our routine now—one of us suggests something, based on porn we send back and forth or some idea she’s read in a romance book—and we wait for the other one to consider it with no extra influence. There’s no shame in a no.
I nod and carefully remove my fingers, keeping her balanced with the leg over my shoulder as I reach for my helmet on the ground. I slip it on, and she reaches down to slide the visor up.
“You tell me if you want to stop, okay?” she reminds me, and I nod again. “But now you can’t put your mouth on me. And you’ll be able to follow the rules.”
I want to do what she wants. I’m desperate to make her come on my fingers. So I press the knee that’s resting on my shoulder, opening her up for me again.
I’m slower this time, with more attention on her clit, following the pattern she uses on herself when she lets me watch her make herself come in our bed. When I slip two fingers back into her pussy, I press my thumb to her clit, keeping pressure as I do my best to stroke her g-spot on every thrust.
My name is on her lips between curses and prayers, god and fuck and hell and Charlie all slurring together. She’s meeting me thrust for thrust, rocking her hips to fuck herself harder on my fingers. When she comes, she pulls back, but I keep up the intensity, using my grip on her thigh to keep rocking her through every wave of pleasure until she’s near tears, her pussy soaking my hand.
Her body slowly relaxes, and she leans against her weight against me as she catches her breath. The inside of my helmet is humid, sweat dripping between the cushioning and my skin, but I couldn’t care less. Every moment making Gwen come feels like the hottest moment of my life.
She smiles down at me, lazy and sated, hooking a finger into the opening of the helmet, shaking my head back and forth again.
“See, I knew you could follow directions,” she murmurs, cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders out. “I think you’ve earned it.”
I don’t move as she slides her leg off my shoulder, turning around so her perfect ass is in front of my face. And then she bends over the bike.
“You can fuck me now, Charlie.”
I’m never going to last, but I can’t bring myself to care. I stand without bothering to take the helmet off, and when I scramble to find a condom, she holds one out to me, ass still high in the air.
“Where were you hiding that?” I ask, my voice muffled.
“Your jacket pocket,” she laughs. I barely shove my jeans and boxers down far enough to free my cock, grabbing the condom from her and rolling it down my shaft as quickly as I can.
I position myself at the entrance to her pussy, reveling in the way she arches back, still eager after coming twice.
“Fuck, so perfect,” I sigh, sliding into her wet cunt like it was made for me. She’s whimpering, so oversensitized, and I try to be gentle as I pull out and thrust back in.
“You going easy on me, Charlie?” she asks on a moan as I slowly pump in and out of her, feeling the hot grip of her on my cock.
“Going easy on myself, too, mio filo,” I say, grabbing her ass and spreading her apart so I can watch my dick disappear inside her. I can already feel my orgasm building at the base of my spine.
“I don’t want easy,” she argues, and her tone is more whimper than whine. “Please, Charlie, lose control for me.”
I’m the one who begs, not her. So when she asks like that, I can’t help but give her what she wants.
I wrap my hand around her ponytail and pull her up so her back is flush with my chest. She braces against the seat, and I let go of her hair so I can pinch one of her nipples between my fingers. The other finds its way between her and the bike, stroking her clit again, keeping gentle pressure as I thrust up into her.
“Anything for you, Gwen.”
I fuck her harder and faster, letting her cries of pleasure fuel my stamina, desperate to feel her come on my cock. I don’t know if she has another one in her, but I’ll do anything to get her there.
“You feel so fucking incredible, Gwen,” I pant, rolling her nipple between my fingers and smiling at the way she screams for me. “You own me. All I want is your pleasure. All I can think about is the way you look and feel when you come apart for me. Do you like that? Knowing how out of control you make me? How much I need you?”
“YesfuckpleaseyesCharlie,” she pants, the words all rolling together in desperation. I press down slightly harder on her clit as I gently bite her neck, the salt of her sweat perfect on my tongue.
She comes hard, one of her hands coming to grip mine against her tit. The feeling of her pussy pulsing around me is too much, and I finally let myself tip over the edge.
The pleasure is blinding, so intense that I know I’m sinking my teeth too hard into Gwen’s skin, but I can’t stop. My blood pounds through my veins, echoing in my ears as I spill into the condom, Gwen still riding the final waves of her orgasm. We’re both covered in sweat, our shirts sticking to our bodies and hair to our faces.
When I come back to earth, I release my grip on Gwen, gently holding her as we both try to catch our breath. There’s a mark on her neck where my teeth were, and I smooth it over with my thumb.
“Sorry about that,” I murmur. She turns her head over her shoulder and I kiss her softly.
“Nothing to apologize for.”
We slowly untangle ourselves from each other, cleaning up as best as we can, and Gwen’s head rests against my back the entire ride home.