Epilogue
Dawson
Six Months Later
Just as I’d expected, Talia and Amy got along great.
My daughter was happy that I’d finally found a woman who made my heart skip beats.
Amy and Noodles had moved in almost immediately.
It took a little time for us to get her out of the townhouse lease, but we found someone to sublet it until the lease was up.
Noodles seemed to love Red Oak Mountain as much as Amy did. He’d immediately scoped out the old barn on my property, turning it into his cat kingdom. Of course, he also spent plenty of time perched like royalty on our bed.
I had a soft spot in my heart for that cat.
Without his approval, Amy might not have given me a chance.
The week after Amy and I had gotten together, I called my buddy Boone and got his sister’s phone number.
She’d been the one out on the date with that asshole, Chris Macon.
At my suggestion, Amy and Mary had spent an afternoon together sipping tea out on the back porch while they compared notes.
I can’t say Mary had been devastated when she found out how Chris had flirted with Amy at the Bear Den during their date, but she’d definitely been a little wounded.
She and Chris had only been on their second date that night, so she hadn’t been invested yet, which was good.
During that day on the back porch, they’d bonded. Now, Amy and Mary were close friends. Which was good… because Mary had been through some seriously tough times. She could use a good friend.
In fact, Mary was coming over later for a girl’s night in.
Mary, Amy, Talia and a few other local Red Oak Mountain women were having a spa night. Amy’s friends from Fernwood were coming too. Whenever Dee and Sharon descended on the house, I knew it was going to be some serious girl time.
Tonight they were going to do all the frilly things… on a budget, of course. Homemade face masks using natural ingredients, manicures, and something called an avocado hair mask.
I didn’t really want to know why women thought they should put avocados in their hair.
Plus, I’d been banned. All men were, so I didn’t take it personally.
In a few minutes, I’d be heading over to Boone’s place for a poker night. Amy would text me when I was allowed to come back.
Noodles was purring on my lap while I stroked him. That cat was spoiled rotten, and at this point I couldn’t imagine my life without him or Amy. I gently picked him up and put him on the floor when I heard the shower turn on.
I wanted to give Amy a special spa treatment right now. Something she wouldn’t get with the ladies later on tonight.
As I padded quietly towards the bathroom, I stripped out of my clothes. My cock was growing heavier and fuller with each step I took, already anticipating the feel of my woman.
We were only a month out from the wedding, and it almost felt like living in a dream. We both still worked in Fernwood, but our lives were here now on Red Oak Mountain… together.
Slipping into the bathroom, I heard Amy singing quietly in the shower. She loved to sing, even though she kept it private.
I tugged off my socks and threw them on the bathroom counter, then quietly slid the shower curtain open. Then I started singing Die A Happy Man by Thomas Rhett.
“Dawson!” Amy gasped as she whirled towards me, one hand flying to her chest. Her wide eyes met mine, surprise shifting into a slow, knowing smile. “You are such a sneak.”
I just grinned, stepping fully into the hot spray with her. “Thought you could start the party without me?”
Amy’s spa party would be starting in an hour. The house would smell of oatmeal honey masks and cheap wine. And our home would be filled with laughter and the hum of girl talk.
But before all that… I wanted to claim a little of her time in a private, pre-party celebration.
Steam billowed around us, and the world was reduced to this warm shower. Amy’s skin was already glistening, damp tendrils of her hair clinging to her shoulders. The scent of lavender soap filled the air.
“I was just getting cleaned up,” she said, her voice a low, inviting purr. She didn’t move away as I stepped closer. The water hit my back, easing my tension.
“Let me help you with that,” I murmured quietly.
My hands found her shoulders first. They were tight, knotted from a week at work. I pressed my thumbs into the firm muscles at the base of her neck, and she let out a soft moan, her head shifting forward. She always loved my massages.
I worked my way down her spine, kneading the tension from her back. Then my palms slid over her skin, slipping down to the rounded curve of her hips. Amy leaned into my touch, her back arching slightly as water cascaded over us, making every movement fluid and effortless.
She shifted to face me, her eyes half-lidded, her sexy lips parted. That gave me access to new parts of her, and I drifted my hands up to cup the undersides of her breasts, feeling their soft, heavy weight.
Amy inhaled quickly as my thumbs brushed over her nipples, already peaked and tight from the heat and the stimulation. I gave them a little circle, followed by a slow, firm pass. She gasped, her hands coming up to brace against my chest.
“Dawson…” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Is there time?”
“We’ll make time.”
Then I leaned down, capturing one taut nipple in my mouth, the hot water mixing with the heat of my tongue. She cried out, a small sound that was swallowed by the rushing sound of the shower.
I lavished attention on one breast, then the other, my hands roaming the generous curves of her hips and the swell of her big ass. Then I pulled her flush against me. I was already hard, my length pressing insistently against her lower belly.
Amy’s hands slid down my chest, over my stomach, and wrapped around me. Her stroke was slick, and precum already beaded at my tip, but a groan tore from my throat. Not yet.
I guided her hand away gently, kissing her deeply, tasting Amy. Then I kneeled in the streaming water.
My hands slid down the backs of her thick thighs, urging them apart.
Then I looked up at her to take in the view. Water streamed down her body, over the gentle swell of her stomach, down to the dark, wet curls greeting me at the apex of her legs. Every cell in me was heated with anticipation.
I leaned in, nuzzling the soft skin of her inner thigh as she trembled. Then I pressed my mouth to her core.
There was nothing I loved more in this world than Amy Allen’s pussy.
And it was my goal in life to shower it with attention. It was my mission to keep the Boinkacorn in permanent retirement, except for those times when we pulled it out for some mutual playtime.
A quiet moan slipped past her lips as my tongue found her. She was already swollen and slick with need for me. I traced her folds, then focused on the sensitive nub of her clit.
Then I kissed it with slow circles of my tongue, followed by the flickering, insistent pressure that I knew would do her in. Her hands tangled in my wet hair, anchoring herself as her hips began to shift against my face in tiny, desperate arcs.
That’s it, Amy. Fuck my face.
The sounds she made were music. The air was filled with broken gasps, my whispered name, and her incoherent pleas for more. The steam and the relentless beat of water on my back all fused into a single, overwhelming sensation.
I needed her. Her taste, her scent, the way her body clenched and quivered for my tongue.
I slid one finger inside her, then two, curling them upwards. She was so hot and wet for me it almost made me come.
Her back arched against the shower wall as I found a rhythm, my mouth working her clit, my fingers pumping slowly just the way she liked it.
“I’m gonna…” she whimpered as her whole body tensed.
I doubled my efforts, my tongue an unrelenting point of pleasure taking her to the point of ecstasy and beyond.
As she came for me, her whole body stiffened, a cry tearing from her throat as her pussy pulsed around my fingers in frantic, rhythmic clenches. I held her through it, gentling my touch as the tremors shifted into the soft trembling of quiet aftershocks.
As I rose, I studied her. She was panting lightly and leaning against the wall of the shower, her eyes glazed with bliss.
But I wasn’t finished. The sight of her, utterly spent and satisfied, only stoked my fire hotter.
“Are you ready for something more?”
She laughed lightly. “Always. What have you got for me today, Mountain Man?”
“Just a little present for my future wife. In less than thirty days, I get to start calling you Wifey.”
I turned her around, kissing her neck as I shifted her.
With my hands on her hips, I guided her to face the wall. She shifted willingly, pliant as she placed her palms flat against the wall for support.
Water glided down the beautiful curve of her back as I positioned myself behind her, hands gripping her hips. The tip of my cock nudged against her entrance, already slick from her climax.
“Are you ready for this, Amy?” I rasped into her ear, my voice rough with need.
She nodded, pushing her hips back in answer. “Yes. Please. But you have to be fast this time. They’ll be here in forty minutes.”
I didn’t need much time. Not for what I had planned. I pressed forward slowly, burying myself in her sweet, sweet pussy in one long, smooth stroke.
We both groaned as we connected, a shared experience of decadent pleasure. She was so tight, her body still clenching gently from her orgasm, making the fit impossibly intimate.
I held her there for a moment, buried to the hilt, feeling her body tight around me.
Then I began to move.
Slow at first. Long, deep strokes. The sound of our bodies meeting filled the shower with a slick, rhythmic slapping under the steady patter of water.
Her head was bowed, her back a graceful arch. Every thrust made her breasts sway and her breath hitch.
“Faster,” she begged, her voice muffled under the running water.