Epilogue
JW
One Month Later
“Maeve.” I walk up behind her. She’s in the zone, completely oblivious that I’m inside the store with her.
Whisked Away is closed for the day, the outside light is off, and there are no cars in the front parking lot.
That’s probably why she’s got the music thrumming through the speakers louder than normal.
Her hips are swaying back and forth while my woman sings along to Ty Myer’s Drinkin’ Alone.
Maeve’s body tenses for a moment until she realizes it’s me.
Once Clayton Smith was put behind bars on concurrent charges in a federal prison, we all heaved a sigh of relief.
There were also a lot of changes in our day-to-day life.
The bakery got outdoor security cameras, Maeve now parks in the back instead of the front, and the back door is always locked.
We both also have key fobs to arm and unarm the alarm.
The way Maeve is so zoned into her work, it’s no wonder she didn’t hear me or feel my presence until I wrapped my body around hers.
“Joseph.” Her head relaxes against my chest, hands still in the dough she’s kneading.
The ingredients off to the side clues me in on what she’s making: cinnamon rolls.
My lips land on hers. Her soft little purr gives me all the invitation I need.
Her tongue slides along mine, and I take what she so willingly gives.
“What are you doing here?” she asks between kisses.
When she left for work this morning, she was wearing a tank top, a skirt, and a pair of white canvas sneakers.
I knew what I’d be doing the minute we were both off work.
Except I couldn’t wait for her to come home.
“I think it’s pretty obvious. You in this skirt, hands busy and occupied. Today’s my lucky fucking day.” Her eyes flutter closed as I slide my hands downward, pulling the fabric with the tips of my fingers.
“That’s not fair,” she bemoans while pressing her ass into me at the same time. I move back, wanting to see what she’s wearing beneath the flowy skirt.
“Motherfucker.” I’m damn near breathless. “Elbows. Arch your back and show me.” The missing panty lines and not feeling any fabric clued me in about the lack of undergarments.
“Daddy.” She’s bent over, hands no longer in the dough; they're now gripping the edge of the table. Flour is dusting her workspace, making more of a mess than normal, and we’re both about to reap the rewards.
“Baby girl wants her daddy. You knew what you were doing this morning putting this on, didn’t you?” She is wearing panties, if you can fucking call the G-string that. My pointer finger slides beneath the material, and drag it along nice and slow. The lower I go, the more soaked the fabric becomes.
“Please,” she begs so prettily for me.
“You know what I would have done if you'd left the house without underwear?” I ask her, palming her ass with one hand and sliding the fingers of the other through her wetness. My cock is more than ready to slide inside, but the way she’s presenting herself makes it worth the wait.
“What’s that?” Mae responds, pushing her body backwards when I sink two fingers into her cunt.
“Spank you until your ass is a pretty shade of pink, then every time I slam my dick inside you, you’d feel the sting of pain over and over again.”
“Oh god.” It’s clear as fucking day she likes that idea.
“You want that, baby girl? You want my handprint on your ass?” We’ve barely scratched the surface of her sexual appetite. So far, she’s met me match for match.
“Yes, Daddy.” The minute the words leave her mouth, my hand lifts in the air before coming down on the lush cheek of her ass.
I repeat the process while my fingers fuck her, my hand raining down with each slap, moving to different areas each time.
Through it all, Maeve lets out deep moans, asking for more, not at all giving me any indication she’s in pain.
In fact, my woman moves into each hard smack while she’s dripping down my fingers, into my hand, and down to my wrist.
“That’s my baby girl, soft and sweet, letting me have my way with her pretty body and tight-as-fuck cunt.” There are times I take her more than once or twice a day, and still, there’s a snugness to her cunt.
“I’m so close.” I pause what I’m doing with her ass but keep my fingers inside of her. My hand works the belt buckle and the buttons on my denim jeans. There’s a reason I go commando. It’s a fuck of a lot easier to get inside my woman when she’s ready to light up the room.
“Hold it. Not yet. Not until I’m inside of you.
” My jeans drop beneath my ass, allowing me room to work, harder and faster.
I wrap my hand around my cock, thumb and finger pinching the tip.
She’s not the only one ready to get there.
It’s damn hard to be around Maeve and not fuck her morning, noon, and night.
“Hurry.” The impatience in her tone pushes me to move faster.
“Not gonna go slow. You better hold the fuck on, baby girl.” I take away my fingers. Her greedy cunt clamps down on them, reluctant to let me go. The minute I’m free, my hands grip her hips, and my cock lines up with her tight pussy.
“Finally.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, eyes locked on mine. Her cheeks are red, there’s flour dotting a couple of places on her pretty face, and damn, her lips are plump from biting down on them.
“You busting my balls, woman?” I don’t expect a response, not with the way she’s gripping the head of my cock with her cunt.
I’m barely inside, and she’s trying to take me.
Damn, this woman. She’s mine, with her soft Josephs and sweet daddys.
I’ll do whatever I have to keep them forever.
I claimed Maeve Oliver. Now all that’s left is to make it official in every possible way.
“Daddy,” Mae whimpers when I thrust all the way inside. I lose sight of her as she closes her eyes, and I clench my jaw to keep from coming too fucking fast.
“You’re marrying me, Maeve. Love you more than life, and while I know already that you love me the same, it’s time to make it official.
” My hand travels the length of her back, causing her flesh to rise with the movement.
She pushes back with each thrust of my hips, matching me yet again.
Still, she’s not close enough, never is.
Even going to sleep and waking up with her wrapped around me, I’m always trying to find a way to keep her glued to me.
“Yes.” I wasn’t asking. Either way, Mae is going to be my wife and the mother of my children. I move her off to the side. My front meets her back, and my lips travel the nape of her neck.
“Love you, baby girl. Fucking always.” My teeth sink into her soft skin, and damn, there’s no holding back now. Maeve’s body comes alive beneath mine.
“I love you, Joseph.” Her pussy keeps its hold on me as my orgasm takes over, pulling me right along with her.
I hope you enjoyed JW and Maeve’s story and will consider leaving a review. If you’d like a bonus scene of His to Claim click the link below for more!
His to Claim Bonus Scene
Coming next is His to Keep, Trey and Sienna’s book and releases Sept 15th!
Prologue
Sienna
Two Months Earlier
Home sweet home is how the saying usually goes for most. Not me though, I’m a home is where the heart is type of girl.
I’ve missed the smell of early morning sunrises, rain as it hits the ground, the animals slowly making their presence known from their own slumber, and hours like these.
I can’t tell you which is my favorite, sunrises or sunsets.
I think whenever the sky has a cotton candy feel is superior no matter what time is the best. In Arrowleaf, Wyoming it’s a million times better.
My camera roll is full of two things: our farm animals and sky lines.
Away from home and in a city that I felt no connection with had the loneliness and home sickness settling in and staying.
The city life is not for me, maybe for a minute, the newness was fun, but it quickly wore off.
Even my short trips back home for holidays and breaks weren’t enough to make it bearable.
My heart always longed for home and my stomach was queasy ninety percent of the time whenever I went back to college.
The minute my college advisor told me I could graduate early by doing a few extra courses throughout the year, it was game on. A full six months ahead of schedule, much to my brother’s dismay I’m home earlier than he anticipated.
Amos Damien Ellison is a knight in shining armor, he raised me when he should have been starting his life.
He did it all, helped around the farm more than most kids his age should have, going shopping when mom had a craving and could stomach the thought of food after a long day of chemotherapy.
Dad stayed glued to her side, doing the bare minimum around the farm, house, and myself.
Amos kept at it, doing the most and when I tried to help, he told me to stay near mom in case she needed something.
So, when the time came when mom passed, he held us all together, and when dad left this earth less than a year later, he did it again.
“This view never gets old,” I say to the bunnies who are hopping back to their den.
There’s a whole family, right now it’s just the mom, and she only comes out twice a day.
My raccoons haven’t come around lately, and yes, I call them mine.
A lot of people, Amos included call them nasty critters.
When really, they do great things for the land surrounding us, eating rodents and reptiles that are pests, cleaning up dead animal and carcasses plus a whole slew of other stuff.
This is where my love of all animals come out, maybe not skunks because of them spraying on you, but even then, that’s just their defense mechanism.