Epilogue Jack #2
“Jack,” she says, but although she intends the sound to be annoyed, it’s anything but.
Then she steps back and I watch in utter fascination as she kicks off her cozy boots before moving her hands to the waistband of the thick tights she’s wearing under her sweet skirt.
Her thumbs hook in them, then she shimmies, sliding them down and off.
Then she’s hooking her arms around my neck and hovering her lips over mine, but not kissing me.
Letting me do this my way. Her breaths coast over mine.
One of my hands moves to her ass, squeezing it before moving lower to the edge of her skirt.
“Were you planning this all along, Rosie? Wearing this little skirt with the thought of me fingering you like this?” My hand slides up under the skirt, along the sensitive skin of her thighs. Her breath hitches as I graze along her slit.
“Yes,” she groans. “Oh my god.”
“What do you need, Rosie?”
“Jack,” she whispers, but she knows the rules.
My Rosie has to ask for what she wants. She has to ask for help.
“I want your fingers inside me.” Now it’s my turn to groan, but I do as she asks, sliding two fingers into her dripping wet center.
We both let out a heavy breath as I feel her tighten around me.
“Fuck, Rosie.”
“You feel so good,” she breathes, eyes slipping closed as I fuck her with my fingers, slow and steady, watching the small changes on her face as pleasure builds, as her hips start to rock in time. “I need more.”
“You know what you need to do, baby. Tell me what you want from me, and I’ll always give it to you. But you have to ask.” My fingers keep moving in her, my cock painfully hard now, but there’s no need to rush this.
I have the rest of my life.
“I want you to fuck me,” she whispers.
“Jesus, Rosie,” I murmur, eyes going wide with both intrigue and panic as she puts a leg to the edge of the counter.
“And I want you to do it right here on this counter, then kiss my lips as you slide into me.”
The woman might be the death of me, I swear it. My adventurous, sweet Rosie girl.
I’m going to have to keep her out of trouble for the rest of my life.
But I’ll do it happily.
“Rosie,” I say, not wanting to burst her bubble but knowing there are large windows at the front of the store. I look over my shoulder at said window and see it’s dark out and the streetlights have long turned off. Nearly everyone in our sleepy little town is probably long in bed, but still…
“Come on, Jack. I’ve always wanted you to fuck me here,” she murmurs, sliding up onto the counter.
She’s still in her shirt, and the skirt hangs at her hips, looking much less innocent and sweet than it did when she stepped out in it this afternoon.
Now, it’s like a dark frame to her cunt, the one I desperately have to convince myself not to fill right here, right now.
“Rosie, you know I’d give you anything—”
“Anything?” she asks with a light in her eyes.
I smile and nod. “Yes, but I don’t need the entirety of Heartwood Hollow to know what you look like taking my cock.” Her mouth opens a bit, her breathing becoming more labored. Then she smiles.
“Hide our antics from curious minds, cover the windows up with blinds,” she whispers mischievously as rose gold strands leave her fingers, sliding along the floors and walls, before each window is covered with basic-looking blinds.
When I look back at my girl, her feet are on the edge of the counter, her pussy on display for me, her fingers gently touching herself.
“Please, Jack,” she whines, eyes wide and lips panting as she slides a finger between her folds. “Fuck me.”
“Fuck,” I groan, but don’t do as she asks.
I remembered what she asked first, and I have long had fantasies of kissing her pretty pussy and the bond snapping into place.
As my lips close over her clit, the bond doesn’t happen, but the noise of utter pleasure eases the disappointment.
As does the way her fingers twine into my hair, holding me in place, guiding me to give her what she needs, what she wants.
My giving girl is taking what she wants.
“Jack,” she groans as her hips move, as I slide two fingers into her, as I groan against her clit.
“Jack.” The words are more desperate, panicked, and I grin, adding a third finger as she tightens around me, crooking them the way I know she loves.
“Jack!” she shouts, fingers digging into my scalp as she presses my head into her, coming with my name on her lips.
I continue to lap at her, to slowly move my fingers in her as she comes down, sliding them out only as her fingers in my hair loosen, as a hand moves to brush my hair back.
That’s when I stand and her hands move to the button on my jeans, taking over the job of getting me out for her.
Her hand reaches in, taking out my painfully hard cock and stroking it once, twice, three times while holding my eyes.
My breathing goes ragged, and I move closer to her, putting one hand to her chin and the other to her waist.
“I love you,” she says, lining the head of my cock up with her entrance.
I smile. “I know,” I reply. I press a kiss to her forehead, holding her gaze. “I love you, Rosie.”
“I know,” she says back, voice strained with emotion and need, hands moving up to the back of my head.
When I slide into her fully, I finally press my lips to hers, that bond snapping into place like an old, familiar friend.
A quiet sound that is close to a sob leaves her lips as mine move against hers, as I slide in to the hilt, as her fingers dig into my neck, holding me close, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear, like she’s afraid this feeling will disappear if she lets go.
I get it.
But I also know there’s no universe where I’m letting Rosie slip through my fingers. Never again.
“Jack,” she whispers when the kiss breaks, and I lift a hand, wiping the tear that falls.
“I know,” I say.
“I thought I’d never get this again,” she confesses. I slide out an inch, then lazily slide back in, my body working on a different wavelength than my heart and mind.
“I would have fought heaven and hell to get us here again.” And I realize then that I mean it. Things worked out, despite the long and windy and deceptive and sometimes frustrating road to get here. But there is no universe where I would have let her walk away without a fight.
And I know I would have won, eventually.
“I know,” she whispers, then gasps as I slide out again, two inches this time, before sliding home again. “Oh, god.” I let out a huff of an agreeing laugh. “Kiss me, Jack,” she demands. “Kiss me, then make me come, then take me upstairs and do it all over again.” I smile down at her. “Please.”
And because she asks so nicely, I give it to her.
But we both know I’ll always give Rosie whatever she needs, whether she asks for it or not.