Epilogue
Megan
Six months later…
Ilet my bridal gown slide gently to the floor around me and step out of it. Jameson unzipped the back for me, and now I’m alone in the large closet/dressing room.
I’m almost shaking with anticipation, but trying to stay calm.
Just breathe. This is the best part.
I feel like I’m floating somewhere over the mountains.
I just married Jameson. My dream man.
We celebrated our wedding with three hundred of our friends, family members, and some of his most important business contacts; it was the first event held at the Vance Bayshore resort, a private event, one month before the official grand opening.
I can’t imagine a better place to start off our marriage than right here. Jameson said tonight, when he gave a toast, that his Granddad would’ve been thrilled to know one of his grandchildren’s weddings was the first celebration at the resort.
The wedding was grand and beautiful and exciting, like our life together.
But now it’s getting late, and the rest of our night will be quiet and private and close, like the space between our hearts.
As soon as he walked me up to our VIP suite after the reception, the grandest suite at the resort, and carried me over the threshold, my groom gave me my wedding gift.
He got me a publishing offer for my books. From a major publishing house.
It was just an offer, from a very interested party. But it was mine to negotiate if I wanted it.
When he told me, Jameson seemed worried that I’d be mad he talked to a literary agent without telling me, had them pitch my book series to the publisher, but I really wasn’t. I knew him so well, I knew why he did it.
For me. Because I would’ve hesitated to do it for myself.
Because he believes in me, sometimes far sooner than I believe in myself.
“Your stories are too good to be read by only a few thousand people,” he told me devoutly. “You just need distribution, that’s all.”
I cried.
And I couldn’t be more grateful to him.
No matter what comes of the offer… his belief in me is the most meaningful gift he could ever give me.
I stand in front of the mirror and peel off the lingerie I wore with my bridal dress. It was a perfect fit to go under the classy, elegant gown.
But it’s time now to get into the other lingerie. Because obviously, I had to have two.
Megan on the outside.
Jessica on the inside…
I take the second set of lingerie off its hanger and carefully slip it on and into place. It’s expensive, delicate. Comfortable, even though it’s so damn skimpy.
Jameson spent a lot of money on it, even though he hasn’t seen it yet.
My man loves to indulge me. I know that the fact I don’t ask for much turns him on, makes him want to spoil me.
He’s a giver in every way.
I’ve never met anyone who cared so much about my happiness from one moment to the next. Sex, luxuries, his touch, his time, anything he can give to put a smile on my face, to lavish me with pleasure, to make sure I feel loved, safe, and adored, he’ll do it.
Jameson Vance is a virile alpha with a romantic heart. I consider myself unbelievably lucky to be the woman who owns that heart.
It’s not a position I take lightly.
I want to do for him what he does for me. Always.
When I emerge from the dressing room, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed in his groom’s suit, with his tie loosened and only the jacket removed. He knows how I love him in a suit.
That’s probably the only reason he’s not naked yet.
Our eyes meet, and a shock of awareness runs down my spine.
Mine,that look seems to say.
God, I adore him.
I miss him, too, and I know he misses me. I’ve been so busy lately. Not only with prewedding preparations, but I’ve found myself so inspired, I’m finally writing my final Wolf-and-Rowan book.
With a happy ending.
Jameson’s expression relays not only how much he misses me, but how hungry he is for me.
I’m sure mine relays how damn hot I feel in what I’m wearing for him. I see that he agrees when his gaze rakes down my body.
The lingerie is white, and there’s not much of it. The sheer bra has tiny bows above my nipples. The matching panties have a tiny bow above my clit.
My husband spreads his thighs and adjusts his hips as he takes me in. His cock hardens, straining inside his slacks.
I know how much he loves it when he gets to undress me himself, or watch me undress.
“You look fucking gorgeous.” His voice is rough with longing, sending a thrill through me. “Come here, baby. I want my wife.”
But I don’t go to him.
As he drinks me in, I slip a finger over the central seam of the right bra cup. It runs down from the little bow, right over my nipple, and as I touch it, the seam parts, exposing my nipple.
Jameson’s eyes darken with lust.
I do the same to the panties, sliding my finger from the little bow down the central seam a bit, parting it to give him a glimpse of my pink flesh.
His cock flexes hungrily, drawing my attention.
My hands fall away, ending the little peep show as I walk toward him.
Even at this distance, he worships my body, like I’m offering him a gift and he’s savoring it. My breasts jiggle with each step, the sheer bra hiding little more than nothing and offering little support. The panties are pretty much a wisp of floss.
And knowing those easy-access slits are there, even though they’ve slipped closed… I know I’m being a tease.
I love to stoke Jameson’s desire until he’s ravenous for me.
He lets me get away with it, just a little bit.
He reaches for me as I get close, but I hold back, just out of reach. “No touching the bride until the official honeymoon,” I tease.
“You better be fucking kidding me.”
I laugh. When I drift closer, he grabs me by the waist and the ass and drags me between his legs.
“I’ll have you know I didn’t wear this under my dress all day,” I say sweetly, my fingertips walking up his tie. “I think my groom should get something special, just for him, on our wedding night.”
I wrap his tie around my hand, pulling him toward me even as I lean into him, sliding a knee onto the bed beside him.
“I hope you like the peekaboo vibe…” I kiss him, lightly. He growls softly, warningly, and my lips tease his. “My dress was so classic and elegant. Fit for your queen. I love it when you call me your good girl. And I wanted to be your queen on our wedding day.”
“You are my queen.”
I kiss him again, deeper this time, my tongue lapping luxuriously against his as desire rises through me, hot and intoxicating. His taste. His masculine scent…
“But underneath it all, on our wedding night,” I whisper against his mouth, “I want to be your slut, Jameson.”
He swallows. “Oh, fuck.”
I kiss him, sinking against him. His fingers dig into my ass, pulling me close. And as soon as the balance of my weight tips into him, he lifts me off my feet, flips us over, and pins me beneath him on the bed.
I’m already breathless as that move sends a shock of heat to my core.
“I don’t think I like that word directed at my wife.” His voice is hot and bleeding with the desire he feels for me. He rams his rock-hard length against my soft pussy, making me gasp. “But when you just said it… it made me so fucking hard.”
He sucks on my throat, then kisses his way down my chest.
“Good,” I whisper. “Make me your slut.”
He groans. “Megan… Jessica… I feel like I got two women in one.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And are two women always better than one?”
“Only if both of them are you.”
Sucha good answer.
“I love it when you fuck me with your suit on. It makes me feel like I’m your bad girl.”
He groans again as he licks my skin. “When you say dirty words, it drives me crazy.”
“Mmm. Use the holes, Jameson. That’s what they’re for. Suck on my tits and fuck me.”
His eyes flash as they seize mine.
He yanks open his belt and rips down his zipper with such force, the bed shakes. He tears his underwear out of the way and his cock springs out, hard and heavy. Grabbing himself impatiently, he angles between my thighs, nudging the tip of his cock into the slit in my panties… then into my slit.
I gasp and he groans with relief as he pushes, sinking his cockhead into me. Just a couple of inches.
I’m wet, the little wisp of sheer thong drenched in my desire for him.
But he pauses as I wriggle beneath him, trying to take him deeper. He pants over me with restrained need and a look so possessive, it takes my breath away.
His lips are already swollen from my kisses, and I revel in the tumult of feeling that smashes through me. Hunger and adoration. Satisfaction and longing, like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life.
Jameson grips my jaw with his hand. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs.
I manage a whispered “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he says roughly.
“You’re my hero.”
“Stop it. You’ll make me come too fast.”
I laugh breathlessly. “Tell me you love Wolf, too. I know you do. He won you over.”
“Don’t push it. I’m holding out until I read the ending.”
I smile.
“Actually, I’m working on convincing the author to let me read it before she publishes it. I like happy endings.” He drifts his lips over mine. “No. I love them.”
Then he shoves into me, and we stop talking. There’s nothing more that needs to be said.
Because we already have our happy ending.
THE END