Chapter 78
Seventy-Eight
B utch wakes me with his tongue between my legs.
I’m still sore from last night after we went several rounds, acting like we spent months apart instead of five days.
If it’s possible, something has shifted again with us…
moved us another layer closer and deeper.
And sex with this man rocks my world, pushing boundaries, ripping orgasms from my depths, and forging trust at the soul level.
I widen my thighs further. “God, I love your mouth.” And your mustache rides.
His muffled answer sounds more like a groan.
Thick fingers. Hot breath. Slick tongue.
The tension mounts, and he senses it, pulling out all the stops as he strums me to pleasure oblivion, his lips suctioned to command central, a finger filling the other orifice he’s claimed.
Ka-POW .
I grip his hair, my convulsing, quivering pussy arching into his mouth as he pushes my thighs impossibly wider, intently watching the show. Even when I try clamping shut, he holds me agape and bare, mesmerized.
“Butch,” I plead .
“What do you need, baby?”
“You know what I need. Please .”
“Tell me. You know it turns me on when you say what you want.”
“Please push your big, beautiful dick inside me right fucking now.”
He growls in approval. “You want me to fuck you, gorgeous girl?”
“Yessssssssss.”
“Hard or slow?”
“Both. Hurry, Butch. Please. ”
“I will never get tired of hearing that,” he murmurs, positioning himself. He thrusts all the way in, stealing my breath. Our eyes connect and fuse. His lips graze mine, providing a small taste of my own essence. “And I will never stop craving you.”
My eyes roll back in my head as his hips move with purpose. The pleasure is intense. Our collective moans and ragged breaths fall between us as my hands grip his broad back. My legs spread wider to bring us even closer where we’re intimately coupled, his hips fitting fully into the cradle of mine.
It’s sublime. Consuming. Charged.
Our eyes meet as he drives harder, giving and taking. Claiming and surrendering.
He quickens and explodes, a sight to behold in both beauty and strength.
Our foreheads touch, our breaths heavy and hearts intertwined.
“I love you.”
“I love you, wife-to-be.”
Butch lifts his head, a sliver of emerald present around his dilated pupils as a devilish grin overtakes his handsome face.
Before I can ask what he’s smiling about, I’m hoisted into his arms and clutch his neck to hang on.
He kicks open the bathroom door, deposits me on the mat, and starts the shower.
It’s giant sized, like him, with two heads—one positioned higher to accommodate his height, the other lower, perfect for mine.
What’s going on? “Where’s the fire, Lumberjack?”
“Patience,” he says, that secretive smile back in place.
My brain stops guessing what he’s up to as the hot water slides down my body. I sigh from the heaven of it, tilting my head back and closing my eyes.
Butch’s finger traces my breast, pulling me from la-la land. “In exactly thirty minutes, I want you to come outside. Do not go downstairs before then. Do not peek out any windows. Get ready to go but stay in the bedroom until it’s time.”
My eyes narrow. “Is this the surprise you were talking about?”
He doesn’t answer, just flashes a satisfied smile.
“You are a terrible tease and?—”
He presses me against the tile and lays another dizzying kiss on me, effectively shutting me up.
I’m gyrating, dying to know what he’s hiding from me. Three more minutes. I finish tying my shoes since he said we’re going…somewhere. I’m in the dark on how to dress, so I donned my standard Levi’s, T-shirt, and sneakers.
Time.
I bolt downstairs and out the front door, and my mouth drops open. I’m stunned into silence, frozen in place.
The lumberjack stands in front of a Camaro, one of his hands resting lightly on the roof. It’s painted Rally Green with fat white stripes on the hood and rear. My breaths escalate. It’s not just any Chevy Camaro… it’s the kind I’ve always wanted.
A 1969 Z/28 .
I stop gawking and finally descend the porch steps, eyes locked on the vehicle. “It’s gorgeous. Beautiful. Sexy.”
Butch’s eyes meet mine. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“But you’re a Mopar man. What is this?”
“Baby, this is a true testament of my love for you. It’s an early wedding present.”
My heart skips, tumbles, crashes. I stare disbelievingly.
He holds out the keys. “I restored it for you. As much as it pained me, it’s your dream car, and you’re my dream, so it’s yours, Sundance.”
My eyes tear and I throw my entire body at him, leaping into his arms and almost knocking him to the ground. I pepper his face with kisses—over his eyes, cheeks, nose, lips. I whoop loud enough that Butch winces, but I’m grinning and he’s grinning as I overflow with sensations.
I jump down, grab the keys, and make a full revolution of the… my… Camaro.
Cowl induction hood. Pristine paint. Mag wheels.
Butch holds the driver’s-side door open, and I slide into the seat with my heart thudding wildly against my ribcage. My hand grazes the shifter—four on the floor—then over the immaculate black dash, white upholstery, and steering wheel.
Butch climbs into the passenger side and I squeal, the natural high soaring through my veins.
“Start her up,” he says.
The smile on my face can’t stretch any wider, even when the motor cranks out that growling, sputtering, rough idle. I rev the gas just to hear it roar.
“It’s got a 302 cubic engine and 450 horsepower.”
She’s gonna go fast.
“And—”
It dawns on me then. “ You painted it green?”
He grins with a sheepish shrug. “Your favorite color.”
“God, I love you,” I say, planting another kiss on those generous lips .
He traces my jaw. “Clearly, I love you. Now show me whatcha got.”
I depress the clutch, shift into first, and gun it down the driveway, spraying a little gravel, then slow.
..I don’t want to scuff the paint. Once I get on pavement, all bets are off.
The car roars and my gleeful laugh nearly eclipses it as I let it fly.
My movements are fluid as I navigate through all four gears on these country roads, amazed at how this emerald machine handles, accelerates, and sounds.
It’s possibly the most elating thirty minutes of my life—and that’s saying something.
Even though I could happily drive all the way to the Florida Keys in this all-mine muscle car, I reluctantly return home.
When I shut off the ignition, my brain whirls, overwhelmed at the magnitude of this gift.
It’s of mind-boggling proportions, and I’m caught somewhere between jubilant and bawling.
“You okay over there?” Butch ventures.
I shake my head, biting my lip.
“Come here, baby.”
I maneuver myself onto his lap in the most awkward, ungraceful, crawl-plop move ever.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just…so…awesome. Such an enormous present,” I croak, stupid eyes welling again . And now I hear it…the voice that’s accompanied me too long. The one always whispering that I’m not worth a damn.
But I am worthy. Worthy of Butch, the pursuit of happiness, abundance and gifts, and anything else. I have self-worth.
Butch tilts my face toward his. “I think you underestimate the depth of my affection for you, Sundance.” He pauses.
“What we’ve got is the real deal. My love for you grows every day, and it’s the kind of perfection you don’t question or try to explain.
You hold onto it, nurture it, treasure it… and mash the fucking gas. ”
A tear slips from my eyes, absorbing his reassuring and beautiful words.
“In my mind, I’ve seen our life unfold all the way to the finish line—and it’s blinding in its brilliance but also comforting and steady.
You and me? We’re meant to be. I thought I knew what love was before, and I was wrong.
This, baby, this is it. I’d give you a hundred Camaros if it made you happy.
” He squints as if the idea pains him, and I chuckle.
Our lips meet, tasting of worship and longing, tenderness and passion.
“You are the most wonderful man. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m going to love you with every ounce of my being for the rest of my life.”
“That’s all I want. You by my side.”
“Like the real Butch and Sundance?”
He mulls that over. “Our rendition…partners and lovers.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You want to christen this car, Lumberjack?” I whisper.
He answers with roving hands, his lips searing me with a kiss.
“I love that you’re mine,” he says. “And I’m yours.”
My palms frame his face, his warmth seeping through my fingers. “Thank you for all that you are, have been, and will be. I can’t wait to love you forever.”
“I could get used to that.” His pointed gaze—a bright, happy green—caresses me even more effectively than his hands, and I’m lost in his forest once again.