Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Grandpa Chuck grunts as I hold out the ring, but Grandma Beth grabs my hand and squeals. “Ooh, it’s a good one. You did a fine job, Chance.” And then she winks at me. “And I’m not talking about the ring. I like you.”
“Thanks. I like you too,” I answer.
I’m pretty sure her statement is the equivalent of her laying down the law for the family, and her ruling is ‘I’m in’.
Grandpa Chuck doesn’t give in easily, though, and huffs, “Still gonna need you to sign a pre-nup.”
“Grandpa!” Chance hisses.
“Okay. If Chance wants me to, I will,” I reply casually, truly not giving a fuck. “He’s built something to be proud of here, and while I’m happy to be a part of it, it’s his baby. Plus, I don’t have any plans to need a pre-nup later.”
“That so?” he says, his eyes narrowed as he takes my measure.
“Yeah. I gave Chance my heart and took his in return. No take-backsies.”
Chance’s laugh is bright and deep. “Definitely no take-backsies. I’m yours, and you’re finally mine, Samantha.”
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
EPILOGUE
Samantha
The painting isn’t huge, only about the size of my computer screen, but it’s not the size that has me in near tears as I look at it. It’s the content, me and Luna, sitting side by side in the park, arms around each other as soul sisters. Of course, it’s a Luna original, so the grass is turquoise, the sky is purple, and there’s a neon yellow glow to the edges. It’s a vibrantly alive representation of us.
It means a lot, and as I clear the sob from my throat, I hug her. “You didn’t need to, but thank you.”
“I absolutely did,” Luna says, hugging me back. “I had to. I mean, sisters-in-law? Seems appropriate, right? And this place could use a little pop of color.”
I look at it on the wall of Chance’s . . . excuse me, our home. I can’t help but smile. “This still doesn’t seem real,” I confess.
“Preaching to the choir, girl. I sometimes pinch Carter in his sleep to see if I dreamed him up like one of my characters,” she confides. “He wakes up spitting mad, too, and then has to prove that he’s real.”
She doesn’t sound sorry at all, not even a tiny bit. In fact, she’s grinning about it.
“Maybe I’ll try that,” I say thoughtfully. “After graduation.”
It’s almost here, the day I didn’t think would ever come. But I’ve finished all my classes, have my cap and gown ready to walk the stage and receive my Masters of Psychology, and secured a position at a local women’s shelter, where I’ll be working under another psychologist until I complete my needed hours to get my own license.
Best of all, I can do that job while still working at the club and selling for Bedroom Heaven.
“You excited for what comes next?”
I have to think about that before I answer. School has become such a comfort zone for me, where I know my professors, spend time with friends, and am mentally challenged every day. Moving on from it, even with how excited for the future as I am, is going to be a change.
But that’s where growth happens. Living life on repeat, listening to an echo of your own voice from the void, and never considering any other possibilities, while easy, isn’t truly living. It’s existing. And I want more than that.
So much more.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I answer. “Bring it on, life!”
Chance
“Chance.”
I flip on the bedside lamp and turn over, propping up on an elbow. Samantha’s snuggled up in our bed with the blankets pulled to her chin.
I stop, looking into her eyes. Did she have a nightmare? Or hear a noise? Or need a midnight cheese stick and not want to go to the kitchen by herself?
But the look in her eyes is different. It’s one I know well, but I haven’t seen it in a while.
“You have to say it. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. You know that, Samantha,” I say, letting heat trickle into my voice slowly even though my cock is already rock-hard beneath the blanket.
I want her. I always want her. However she wants it.
For a bit after the incident, she couldn’t let me touch her and we would watch each other masturbate. Slowly, as she’s been comfortable, we’ve worked our way back up to using toys, alone and together, gentle lovemaking, and even rough fucking a time or two. The only real difference there is that if I’m taking her from behind, she needs it to be in front of a mirror so that she can see my face, and if I call her ‘slut’, it needs to be face-to-face so she can look into my eyes. But she still enjoys that, saying it’s different between us and it's just the pathways in her mind that get a little mixed up sometimes.