Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Pretty sure we gotta have a wedding to have a honeymoon.”
She shudders. “Ugh, god, don’t talk to me about weddings!”
“Fair,” I nod. “But how bout this?”
I drop to one knee and pull a box out of my back pocket, holding it up to her. “I know it’s not much. Later on, I’ll be able to give you a bigger one. But Miss Kira Roberts, will you come to the courthouse with me to become my wife? No wedding dress or fancy hairdo necessary.”
When she starts crying even harder again, I gotta say, I’m not sure what that means. Dammit. She was just talking about everything being too much, too fast. It’s the wrong time. Fuck. I’ve been waiting, walking around with this damn box burning a hole in my pocket for a couple weeks now. Why’d I think the kitchen after burnt eggs that have left a weird sulphury smell in the air was the right time?
I start to get up off my knee. “Listen, it’s fine if—”
“I thought you’d never ask, you big oaf!” She drops to her knees and throws her arms around me. “You’ve been driving me nuts carrying around that ring and not asking!”
A wave of relief crashes me. “So is that a yes?”
“Yes.” But she pounds my back with her little fist. “Only if you don’t make me wait so long ever again.”
I chuckle in her ear. “I don’t know about that. Good things come to good girls who wait.”
“Fuck waiting,” she says back. “Can we go out to eat? And then, god, can we go play? I’m hungry and horny, in that order.”
EPILOGUE II
KIRA
Walking into Carnal feels more like coming home than walking into our current house does since it’s such a mess with all the boxes. I couldn’t stand being without Isaak, so he slept over at my place most nights—with Mrs. Samuelson upstairs.
Suffice to say, we had to keep things down.
Hence spending a lot of time at Carnal.
I wave at Gemini and Quinn and Moira. Well, I try but Moira’s too lost in a scene with her dom Bane. He’s got her strapped in the full body restraints that hang from the ceiling, legs spread, and he’s torturing her clit with some sort of large vibrator. Another dom behind her is busy inserting a large toy up her ass, and another still pinches her nipples. She lets out little yips of pleasure before her dom withdraws the vibrator, making her whine. It’s clear he’s directing the scene, barking out orders to the other two men.
I’ve still never seen Bane without his mask, and I’m sure Moira would object to me calling him her dom since she’s so sensitive about always staying a free agent. And it’s true they’ve been very on again, off again all winter and spring. But even Isaak says he’s still never seen anyone capture her interest for so long.
Still, Moira’s been busy being… well, being very Moira. Sometimes she’s up, sometimes she’s down. All the time she’s fucking. I have my hypothesis about her, but Dr. Ezra told me it’s not nice to go around diagnosing your friends. That’s what a therapist is for, if she’d ever fucking go to one.
“Enjoying what you see, Red?” Isaak says, coming up behind me like he so often does and wrapping his arms around my waist.
I love leaning back against his strong chest and having his arms around me. God, the hormones have made me such a freaking basket case lately. I swear, a commercial made me cry the other day. But there was this little puppy and he got lost in the city and—
God, if I even think about it, I’ll start to tear up all over again.
I’m ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
Fuck your cares away. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You know what? Sometimes my intrusive thoughts and me are on the same page. I’ve started to realize that my repetitive thoughts are just like little song jingles. Fuck your cares, fuck your cares fuck your cares away. Fuck your cares, fuck your cares, fuck your cares away.
Yes it’s a coping mechanism when I’m dealing with stress, but sometimes they’re just nice little brain loops to busy my mind.
Fuck your cares, fuck your cares, fuck your cares away.
For the next hour or so, Isaak can take me to a place where I don’t have to think about finishing my dissertation, or unpacking, or— or—
My hand drops to my belly near Isaak’s and my heart really starts to race.
Fuck your cares, fuck your cares, fuck your cares away.
“Please,” I turn in Isaak’s arms. “Fuck me?”
Still seeing the desire darkening his eyes every time we come here lights the fire low in my belly. And I wasn’t kidding about being horny earlier.
There are things they don’t tell you about pregnancy. Number one, “morning sickness” is a lie. It’s all-day sickness. Number two, the hormones. They make you weepy as fuck, and all I can think about when I’m not freaking out about other things is jumping on Isaak’s dick. Ironic, since that’s what got us in this situation. But I swear. I’ve never been this horny in my life. Why don’t people warn you?