Epilogue #2
I look down to see Rufus wagging his tail next to the couch, gazing up at me with his golden eyes. He’s dropped a soggy tennis ball into the limited space between us and seems to think this is a good time to play.
“Ew, dog!” I fling the ball to the floor, wiping at the drool on my skirt. “You are seriously lucky I love you.”
Drew chuckles and sits up, pulling me with him toward the edge of the couch as Rufus retrieves the ball. “Maybe we should move somewhere less crowded.”
He wraps my legs around his waist and powers to his feet, cupping his hands under my ass to hold me up.
I gasp at his strength as he carries me down the short hall leading to his bedroom, stopping to press me into every stretch of bare wall along the way, kissing and grinding into me while discarding layers of clothing.
By the time he drops me gently onto the bed, he’s lost his shoes, his chest is bare, and I’m down to my skirt and bra. My panties are so soaked, they’ve left a wet mark on his pants.
“A little privacy, please,” Drew says, swinging the door closed between us and Rufus.
This never would have been possible a month or so ago, but the other dogs have had a calming effect on him.
We hear a shuffle of paws, followed by a swish of the dog door, and then through the window, we can hear Rufus and Blitz running through the backyard agility course.
“Now, where was I?” Drew asks, crouching down and lifting the edge of my skirt. “Oh, right—under here.”
Cool air hits my hot-and-ready center as he slides my panties off and out of the way. For just a moment, my flesh is exposed and aching, but the space between my legs is soon invaded by his warm and eager tongue.
I buck so fiercely the first time his lips lock over my clit, my ass rises right off the bed. He reaches up with one of his long-fingered hands, somehow freeing my breast from its straining bra cup, and gives my nipple a subtle pinch.
“Oh.”
You might think he’d drop his pants and just go for it at this point, but to my benefit and possibly also my detriment, the man is some kind of cunnilingus champion.
He actually pulls back until he’s only stroking my clit with the tip of his tongue.
Which you wouldn’t think would do much until you remember the ten-thousand-plus nerve endings in that magic little nub.
And when he emulates the same tiny strokes with his fingers against my nipple, I am already strung so tight it takes about forty-five seconds for him to finish plucking me like a violin.
Open windows be damned—I scream.
But my body has gotten to know this man intimately over the past month, and my core pulses as I come down, knowing he’s just warming up.
He makes his way up between my legs, casting aside our remaining clothing until it’s just our two naked bodies, my skin smooth and brown against his pale tan. He lays kisses in a line from my belly button up to my throat, whispering that I’m beautiful as he kneads my breasts in his hands.
His cock rests thick and heavy against my entrance, and I might actually die of anticipation if I wasn’t sure this was worth the wait.
We got testing and birth control discussions out of the way the second night I stayed over.
So when he finally slides his impressive length inside me, bare and slick with my juices, it is almost enough for me to come right away.
I have to actively bite my lip, holding myself back as he starts to move. And he quickly finds an intoxicating rhythm made especially for my body, squeezing my breasts together and toying with my nipples as he rocks his hips.
When I am almost incoherent from trying to hold myself together, he gazes down at me between thrusts and says, “Rufus got you a present.”
“He—what?”
I open my eyes, confused about why he’s mentioning the dog now. But the sight of this carved Superman hovering over me, filling me, is so intoxicating. I run my hands over the relief of his deltoids, pectorals, and ab muscles, and almost can’t believe he’s real.
He smirks and leans to one side of the bed—crucially, without pulling out—and straightens back up, holding a purple silicone vibrator. But it isn’t just any purple vibe; it’s my favorite. The exact one Rufus destroyed however many weeks ago.
My jaw drops. “How did—”
“A little dog told me,” he says, thrusting his cock deep as he flicks the switch on the vibe, bringing it humming to life. I didn’t think my core could actually ache this way while being fucked, but here we are. I gulp as he nudges the purple toy against my clit.
“Unfair,” is all I manage to gasp.
“Oh, you don’t want it?” he asks, turning it back off.
“Hand it over, Forbes,” I snap. “You know I want all your dicks.”
He snorts, but obeys. And a few delicious moments later, Drew’s thick length is stroking in and out of me, and I have the tip of my second-favorite cock vibrating against my clit.
The sensation is too good, and I come so hard, I am certain I’m going to launch off the bed.
Maybe I would if I weren’t pinned in place by Drew’s magnificent cock, pushed inside me to the hilt.
He grunts and pulses through his orgasm right with me until finally we collapse in a tangle of skin and sweat and satisfaction.
When I open my eyes a couple of hours later, the house is quiet and dim. Drew must’ve gotten up because the dogs are in here, all sacked out in their respective beds—except Rufus, who is squeezed into a ball at my feet.
The familiar scent of my favorite Thai food wafts down the hall. I close my eyes and inhale, then slip Drew’s discarded Henley over my head.
I find him in the kitchen, shirtless, in a pair of low-slung joggers. There’s a plastic bag on the counter that is the obvious source of the deliciously spicy smell, but his attention is on an open cardboard box next to it.
I clear my throat as I enter, trying not to startle him. He turns his head, eyes shadowed, and reaches for my hand.
“I was moving some dog supplies around when the food arrived. I’d forgotten I had this .
. .” He swallows, squeezing my hand. “There was almost nothing in his apartment the last time I was there. The shelves and drawers were nearly empty, nothing on the walls. It was—it was like he’d already stopped living. ”
I move closer to Drew, curling my arm around him as we look at the box.
“It’s mostly papers. His diploma. Ranger tab. A few books. He’d rented the place furnished. But the last time I saw him, the time I told him about the business and begged him to come back with me—” His voice breaks. “He had this with him.”
Somehow, I know what it is before he takes the photo out of the box.
It’s a little dusty, in a modest frame that matches the one I used to have.
We picked them out together, just before he left to join the army.
I lean into Drew as I run my fingers over the glass, over our smiles and embracing bodies.
For a long time, I couldn’t look at the photo at all.
Not without just aching for the people in it.
The boy with the sorrow and the girl who wanted to save him from it.
The same ache throbs through me now. But as it does, I close my eyes and allow myself to also feel grateful. For the memory. For the boy who loved me with his whole heart, even if he didn’t know how to love himself.
“I’m glad you kept it,” I whisper.
Drew pulls me to him. Neither of us speaks. We just stand there, holding one another. Holding each other up.
Eventually, he murmurs in a wavering voice, “Would you feel weird if I put it out . . . here? To look at?”
I turn to look at him. “Would you feel weird?”
His eyes are a gray-green when they meet mine. “A picture of two people I love?” He shakes his head and pulls me closer. “I think I’d like to look at it every day.”
Thank you for reading!