13. Cat
Epilogue: Two Years Later
N ash carries me over the threshold and spins us into the living room. He sets my feet on the floor, and I take a deep breath.
“Can you believe this place is ours?”
“All three bedrooms.” He winks.
“And not just for the week.”
“Not even just for two.”
He closes the door. “It’s hard to believe this is where our empire began.”
I laugh because we hardly have an empire, but my digital planners have been a huge hit, thanks to his impressive app with way more complex features than I would’ve dreamed up on my own. But my analog merchandise still does well, too, and that makes my jewel-toned heart happy.
His freelancing contracts now include almost as many teaching and video editing jobs as game testing. I don’t think he’d be happy if he tried to narrow his focus to one thing. And it turns out, he’s an excellent teacher for everyone, not just me.
He never needed a catchy company name. His skills and his drive are all he needs.
Well, he also needs me to go in and put his office back together about once a month, but other than that, we stay out of each other’s workspaces. I don’t try to clean up around him while he’s working, and he doesn’t make surprise cameos in my videos.
“So,” he says. “How mad do you think our parents are going to be when they find out we not only eloped, but bought a house and moved to the beach.”
“It’s weird that they still act surprised when we do something spontaneous. You’d think they’d know us better than that.”
“Right?”
“I can’t wait to unpack and put everything in its place. Do you want to go for a run before we get started?”
“What I want is to take you upstairs and fuck you in the room where we fell in love.”
“To be fair, I think we started to fall in love on the patio at Lee-Lee’s. And our bed won’t be here until tomorrow. We haven’t even blown up the air mattress.”
“We’re definitely going to Lee-Lee’s for dinner tonight. But the carpet is very well padded. Walk your pretty ass up those stairs. Now.”
I run because I know he’ll chase me, and being caught by him is still exhilarating. And also, because he said walk, so he’ll interpret running as disobeying him.
He lets me make it to the bedroom as if he couldn’t have caught me, but as soon as we’re both in the room, he closes the door behind us. “My wife apparently needs to be spanked.”
I’m suddenly struck by the magnitude of what we’ve done. We bought the place where we met. How many couples get to do that? “This room holds so many memories.”
“It does, and we’re going to make so many more. But right now, you need to get naked and plant your palms on the patio door.”
“Make it quick. I’m craving queso.”
“It’s up to you how long it takes. However quickly you can have four orgasms is when you can have queso.”
“I had two this morning before we closed on the house.” I shimmy out of my shorts. “I think one more is plenty for now.”
He laughs. “I didn’t come up those stairs to only give you one orgasm.”
I toss my panties at his face. “I thought maybe you were hungry.”
“I am.” He licks his lips, and points to the patio door. “Get in position.”
My heart beats rapidly in anticipation of the sting of his hand, but he drops to his knees behind me. Instead of a slap, I feel the graze of his teeth as he playfully nibbles my butt cheek, moving his face lower.
“Widen your stance.”
I do as he’s asked, and he licks my pussy from behind with all the enthusiasm he always brings to the task. There is no effort required to hurry things along. My first orgasm in our new house floods his face in record time.
He spanks me until my body wilts and I need my forearms to brace myself against the glass. Helping me to the floor, he says, “I can’t believe my wife has such perfect tits, and I’m the only man who gets to touch them and suck on these gorgeous nipples.”
I’m needy and agitated by him praising my breasts without touching them. My back arches when it reaches the carpet, but he rubs down my ribcage and back up again, his big warm hand enticing my body to relax.
My vertebrae cascade like falling dominos until my back is flat on the floor. Nash lies on his side, his head propped on one hand while his other plays with my nipples, rolling and pinching. Pulling. He takes his hand away every time my back starts to arch, and won’t touch me again until I lie flat for him.
This is his favorite way to tease me, and I hate it as much as I love it.
He finally moves his mouth to claim my nipple, and my body sinks into the carpet. His hand plays rough with my swollen clit, spiking my agitation again. I pull his hair and he laughs around my nipple, but he responds to my plea and touches my clit the way I want, using a firm but smooth motion as he circles it.
Orgasm number two leaves me drowsy, but he promises he’ll fuck me after I give him a third, and then we’ll have queso and margs under the crooked Christmas lights.
His talented mouth is responsible for number three, and then his rock-hard cock treats my pussy like it hasn’t been near one in years. It’s been less than five hours, but who’s counting?
He’s making sure our first sex acts as a married couple are memorable.
But actually, he got me off in the parking garage of the courthouse immediately after we took our vows, so I guess technically, that was our first marital encounter. It’s been a big day full of big changes. And big Os.
Before we walk out the door to go to dinner, he kisses me and says, “I’m glad you said yes to the salad.”
“I’m glad you took the job.”
“Do you think you’re ready for that purple margarita?”
“I will never be ready for that.”
Georgina sees us walk in, and she runs over to give us both a hug. You’d think we were family the way she treats us now. We always make a point to eat at Lee-Lee’s when we’re in town, and we’ve come back often since that first night she served us.
“It’s been too long, you two. Come on. I know you want to eat on the patio.”
We follow her outside, and she notices my ring before I can sit down.
“Did y’all get engaged?”
“We got married,” I say. “This morning.”
“Well, fuck a duck! Were you ever going to mention that?” She pushes right through the middle of the mariachis. “Outta my way, boys. I gotta get these newlyweds their fancy-ass margaritas! Play ’em a song!”
The mariachis surround us, and it’s so loud I can’t hear myself think. But what’s left to think about, anyway? We already did the damn thing. We did a lot of damn things.
And we’re going to do a whole lot more before we’re done.
Thank you for reading!
Have you read the other Rocky Start Romances?
Missed Exit
Let’s get a few things straight: I am not a runaway bride, nor am I a jilted bride. It would be impossible for me to be any kind of bride at all since my ex-fiancé called off our engagement the day after our wedding planner mailed our invitations. I did not run away from the ceremony, and I was not left at the altar. I am a non-bride! And the only things I’m running away from are the sympathetic smiles and back pats from people back home, who suddenly decided to treat me like I have a terminal diagnosis. Terminally single? Sign. Me. Up. The last thing I needed after a seven-hour drive across Texas was for some wannabe cowboy in his big black pickup truck to make me miss my exit. Correction, the last thing I needed was to finally make it to my rented duplex half an hour after the movers had given up on me and unloaded all my stuff onto the driveway. Nope, that’s not right either. The actual last thing I needed was to discover that the road raging idiot, who should have his license revoked for reckless driving, is my new neighbor. As in, we share a fence. And a bedroom wall. I never needed to know that he sits on his back patio wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs while he drinks his morning coffee, also black. And I for sure never needed to know what he sounds like when he— What I’m saying is we are entirely too close for comfort, okay? And I am a non-simp for my neighbor! No matter how many times he fixes something I break. It’s not like he can fix me.
Changed Plan
“Get to the airport early,” they said. “You don’t want to miss your flight.” I got here three hours before my departure time. But my flight decided to miss me. It seems like everyone’s flight has been canceled. They can’t all have weather delays! All I want is to roast on a beach in Florida and forget all about the fact that I’ve been fired. Dismissed. Discharged. Terminated is the word human resources prefers. Because they’re actual sadists. The last thing I need is this human-shaped Golden Retriever, who won’t stop smiling at me and telling me it’s not so bad. Things could be worse. No sense being angry about what we can’t control. I don’t know what I did to attract this man. Was it my entirely unapproachable expression? The way I was screaming at customer service on my phone? Whatever the reason, I am not sharing a hotel room with him. His snores probably come out in the tune of “You Are My Sunshine.” He’s too happy to be real. Even if he does seem genuinely interested in helping me find some joy in spite of my current situation. It’s not like letting him make me smile is going to change anything.