Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
I give her what she wants and relish every inch that I push into her, gasping and panting as her entire form shakes around me. She’s so tight, absolute heaven to fuck. Deeper and deeper I cry out, all of her so delectable, a wild smile on my face. She slaps me on my ass, urging me deeper.
Chuckling, I realize how much of a wordless language we’ve built up. How strongly we’ve been able to communicate, totally in tune with what each other wants. She’s a bit of a rough girl, and she only likes the peaceful, serene style of lovemaking sometimes. Usually she wants me to take her hard and fast, and I do just that. Every thrust of mine shakes her form, her beautiful body trembling around my cock as I take her again and again.
Hearing her moan for me with each and every penetration is the biggest rush I can possibly imagine, my drug, what I’ll always be after. I want to hear her sing for me as I fuck her, as I rub her clit with such rhythm. Every time she claws at me, every time she bucks into me, it’s a wonderful victory for me.
We hit such a fever pitch, our juices the only lubrication we need. One more kiss and I’m on edge, ready to blow. Through sheer discipline alone, I hold back, always wanting my love to get there first, wanting her to sing for me, scream for me.
When she does? There’s nothing better. I’m continually amazed at the wonder and gorgeousness of my woman. I erupt inside her, giving her everything I have, literally and figuratively. The orgasm I have is almost secondary to the joy of watching hers.
I hold her close. I’m tempted to fall asleep with her in my arms again, but I look over at the clock. It’s about noon. We probably shouldn’t just stay in bed all day, as much as I’d like to.
I kiss her one last time and scramble up, finding my robe so I’m not just strolling around the house in the nude. Although I’m sure Windy would be perfectly happy with that.
“I’ll go make breakfast, you enjoy your beauty sleep. Not like you need it though.”
She giggles as she stretches. She’ll probably be down behind me. She’s always quite the busybody.
I head out to check the mail since it’s already so late. We put down a down payment on a proper house with the combination of my savings and the advance that Anchor gave us from our project. It’ll be a fine little place to build our family.
It has a massive garage, because of course it does. It’s our home and we need space to do our own tinkering, among other things.
There’s a box on our doorstep addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Rowdy, and it’s from Anchor’s company.
My eyes light up, and I pick it up and run in. “Windy? Windy, get down here!”
“Uh? Huh? Is something on fire?”
“No, no, our oil applicator is here!”
She runs down the stairs as I bring it to the dining room table. I open the package and reveal what’s inside.
“Our invention. All professional and shiny-looking, made for mass use, ready to be put in thousands upon thousands of cars, tractors, trucks, and everything else.”
I hold it up to admire it, Windy looking over my shoulder. Our prototypes worked, but they were obviously homemade and welded by us, and we aren’t exactly an assembly line. This? This is a beautiful thing, our concept now fully realized.
I throw my arm over her shoulder and pull her close with a smile. “We make one hell of a team, you know.”
She twists in my arms and plants a kiss on me. “Who knows what wonders we can make when we put our minds to it?”
I grin as I lean into her, thankful that I didn’t dress in more than a robe. We just went at it, but Windy? She has ways of revving me up and getting me going.
I’ll meet her every need, every time.
Because I love her more than anything.
EPILOGUE 2
WINDY
TEN YEARS LATER
I stand behind Winter, guiding her hand. “Here, we take out this thing, it’s called a dipstick. It’s how we check how much oil is left in reserve for the car.”
“Uh huh,” my daughter says, precious and trying to understand. She’s eight years old and is such a darling. She wants to learn to do what Mommy and Daddy do. It’s far too dangerous for her to do most of the stuff we do, as an untrained hand would easily be mangled. But this? This is child’s play.
Comparatively, anyway. I wouldn’t leave her to do it on her own.
“See this? How it is mostly clean except for the very bottom? That means it’s almost out of oil.”
“And that’s bad, right?”