Chapter 8 - Rebecca
eight
Rebecca
Two weeks later, I'm in the barn checking on Sunshine's recovery when I hear Jake's boots on the wooden floor.
"How's our patient?" he asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
"Perfect. Completely back to normal." I lean into his warmth. "Crisis officially over."
"Good. Because I have something for you."
He steps back, and when I turn around, he's holding a small wooden box. My heart starts racing.
"Jake..."
"I know you already said yes," he says quietly. "But I want to ask properly."
He opens the box. Inside is a simple gold band with a small diamond. Nothing flashy, but it's beautiful in its simplicity.
"This was my mother's," he says. "Only thing I kept when everything went to shit. Couldn't bring myself to trade it away, even when supplies were tight." He takes the ring from the box. "Figured it was waiting for the right person."
My throat goes tight. "Jake—"
"Rebecca Rennick, will you marry me?"
"Yes." The word comes out choked. "Yes, absolutely yes."
He slides the ring onto my finger and it fits perfectly. Like it was made for me.
"I love you," he says, pulling me into his arms.
"I love you too."
The kiss starts soft but doesn't stay that way. Two weeks of constant work and exhaustion have kept us from finishing what we started, and now that Sunshine's safe, there's nothing stopping us.
"Remember what I said that first day?" His voice is rough against my ear. "About having time to do it right?"
"I remember."
"We've got time now."
"We do."
"But this is where it started." He backs me toward the hay bales. "Seems right to finish it here."
I don't argue. Just pull him down with me.
This time there's no urgency. He takes his time stripping away my clothes, his mouth following his hands. When he closes his lips around my nipple, I arch with a gasp.
"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs against my skin.
His hand slides between my thighs, finding me already wet. When his fingers stroke through my folds, I moan.
"Always so ready for me," he says, working me with slow deliberate circles. "Love how wet you get."
He pushes two fingers inside and I cry out. He pumps them while his thumb finds my clit, and I'm already close.
"Not yet," he says, pulling his hand away. "Want to taste you first."
He settles between my thighs and puts his mouth on me. His tongue drags through my folds, circling my clit, then he's licking and sucking like I'm his favorite meal.
When he pushes his fingers back inside while his mouth works my clit, I come apart. The orgasm crashes through me and he doesn't stop—keeps licking, keeps fingering me until I'm shaking and gasping his name.
"Love watching you come," he says, moving up my body. "Could do that all day."
He strips out of his clothes and I get a moment to appreciate him fully naked—all hard muscle and controlled strength. His cock is thick and ready, and I reach for him.
"Need you inside me," I say.
He settles between my thighs and pushes in slowly. We both groan at the stretch, the fullness.
"Fuck, you feel perfect," he says, starting to move.
The rhythm is slow and deep, each stroke deliberate. He's taking his time, making sure I feel every inch of him. His hand finds my breast, thumb circling my nipple while he moves inside me.
"Harder," I gasp.
He responds immediately, picking up the pace. The angle changes and suddenly he's hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.
"Right there," I moan. "Don't stop—"
"Not stopping." His voice is strained. "Touch yourself. Want to feel you come on my cock."
I slide my hand between us, fingers finding my clit. The added sensation makes me cry out.
"That's it," he growls. "Come for me."
The orgasm builds fast and fierce. When it hits, I clench around him, my whole body convulsing. He thrusts twice more and follows with a groan, spilling hot inside me.
We collapse together in the hay, both breathing hard.
"So when do you want to get married?" I ask when I can speak again.
"Tomorrow."
I laugh. "We need a little more time than that."
"Don't need much. Just you and me and a promise." He props himself up to look at me. "But if you want a real wedding with all the trimmings, I'll wait."
"I want something. Not fancy, but..." I trace the ring on my finger. "Something that feels real."
"It's real," he says, covering my hand with his. "You're real. This is real."
He kisses me again, and I feel him already starting to harden against my thigh.
"Again?" I ask, grinning.
"Can't help it. You're wearing my ring now." His smile is wicked. "Makes me want to claim you all over again."
"Then claim me."
He does. Twice more before we finally make it back to the house, both thoroughly satisfied and covered in hay.
Forever starts right here.