Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Confusion widens my hooded stare. “What’s that?”
He gently guides the mug to be closer to me, revealing a question mark made out of the silky, thick microfoam used to make the designs on top.
“Grams told me to do what is it I feel like I’ve been waitin’ forever to do ‘cause we really don’t know how much time we’ve got left on the clock, so…” Jukes carefully pulls an engagement ring around the saucer to the front of the cup resulting in my hands flying upwards to catch my gasp. “I told you when we first met, I would marry you. You thought I was kiddin’. Simply flirtin’. But I knew. I knew you were meant to be mine ‘til the end of time. And I knew I was gonna have to put in the work ‘cause Gramps always said the things in life worth havin’ are the ones you do that for.” Thayne gingerly peels my left hand away from my face. “And I hope you know I’ll never stop puttin’ in the work for you, Gillybean. That I always wanna put in the work.” His thumb caresses the space waiting for the jewelry. “I have waited my entire life to ask you this question.” Scooting the chair back to drop down to one knee is effortlessly done. “Will you let me be your man…now and forever?”
Between the classic Richard Marx reference and the round, yellow diamond ring – a reminder of his favorite flavor of jellybean – there’s no denying this is truly a him designed proposal.
One he put thought into.
Further proves his point about always putting in the effort for me.
Us.
How could I say no?
Why would ever I say no?
I’ve spent my whole life dulling my voice for others, so now that I’ve got it?
I’m damn sure gonna use it.
“Yes,” leaves me in almost air prompting me to repeat the word much louder and more urgent and more enthusiastically. “Yes!” Winding my arms around his neck precedes me saying it one last time. “Yes, Thayne Groff.” Our lips feather together as I speak the language he loves most by offering him a song in my answer. “I will be your woman. Always and forever.”
Epilogue
About two months later…
Thayne
“I miss you” sex is pretty hot.
“Let’s Get It On” level of shit.
But “don’t be sad” sex?
Smidge hotter.
It’s the type of thing I imagine Marvin Gaye meant when he sang about “Sexual Healing”.
Gillybean’s heels kick recklessly into my clenching ass cheeks as I frantically pound into her faster.
Harder.
Carelessly.
Vigorously.
Determined not only to drain my shaking frame of every ounce of sadness that’s been conjured up but to fill hers with joy.
And meaning.
And love.
“Such a good girl lettin’ me have you like this Slayer,” escapes in airy praise, hand clumsily slapping Grams’s kitchen cabinet beside her head. “Lettin’ me give you this.”
Wetness steadily seeps past my base, drenching my balls and thighs alike, baptizing them both in the most primordial of ways.
Ways that have me snarling.
Hissing.
Snaking bites of her bottom lip just to hear her sweetly whimper my name. “Jukes…”
Fuck, I love when she calls me that.
I love how it feels.
Heals.
Claims.
Simultaneously resets the track and starts a new one.
A second nip causes her to toss her head back and callously collide with the cabinet on a croaked, “Thirty-five!”
And I love when she screams that.
Claims me.
Surrenders.
That shit’s better than the first sip of brew hungover.
“You’re so fuckin’ close for me, baby,” is whispered along the shell of her ear, dick diving quicker and quicker, pussy swelling tighter and tighter. “Can you give me that dub?” Heat feathering itself against the sensitive territory leads to her shivering. Grabbing a fistful of my orange, vintage Flogging Molly t-shirt to yank me closer and deeper despite my inability to actually get there. “Can you give me one last dub in this barn, Slayer?”
The hitch in Gilly’s breath reverberating around the almost empty house I grew up in is undeniably spine snapping. “Yes…”
My forehead pressing against hers is immediately followed by my nails scraping at the wood without care about the damage that’ll be left behind.
Because it doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters.
Nothing but me and her, and her and me, and finishing the final period in this place on the best note possible.
It’s what Mom would want.
It’s what Gramps would want.
And I know for a fact that it’s what Grams wanted considering her last words were to leave nothing behind here except a soul song.
Which is what Gillybean brings out of me.
Especially when we’re connected like this.
“J…” gets caught in her throat pushing her to feverishly rock forward as if trying to fuck the rest of my name free. “Ju…”
“Such a beautiful sound, Slayer,” I huff, other arm possessively winding around her frame. “My favorite sound.” Additional moans precede white hot pulsations that have eyes screwing shut. “Better than any crowded barn.” The wobbling in my knees convinces them to grow in numbers and intensity. “Better than any sold out concert.” Yanks of my shirt abruptly begin in tandem with hot huffs against my lips and torrid thrums around my shaft. “You’re better than anything.” Breathless screeches start swirling throughout the thick air. “You are my everything…”