by Regina Wade
“I don’t know how you can make me come like that.” I finally gasp out, minutes later when I can talk again.
“Easy. First, you do this—” He slips a finger back inside me, making me gasp again. “Then I just do this with my tongue—”
“Not like that. I mean, it’s just so strong and I feel like I’m dying a little every time, but not in a bad way. And then, and then you do it again a few minutes later like you didn’t just set my whole world on fire, and you just — you just keep going.” The instinct to gesture wildly with my speech is so strong that I shake my chains, but Miles just laughs.
“It’s just you, Dahlia. Trust me.” He bends down, holding my eyes while he kisses his way up and down my stomach, drawing near but never quite touching my already overly sensitive clit. Just the feeling of his warm breath against me is almost agony. Sweet, blissful agony.
What was I saying? Three things. Right. See what I mean about horny Dahlia, though?
“Come on. You might have been my first, but there’s no way you got that good at this without a lot of practice, Officer.” I try to get my feet up onto his shoulders to unwedge him, but I might as well be trying to move a mountain with my feet.
“Nope.” He kisses my inner thighs, licking at the wetness that’s spread there. “You’re special, doll. Trust me. You have a one-of-a-kind pussy.” He gives me a quick, fast lick that makes stars flash against the back of my eyelids.
When I open them again, he’s straddling my chest, his enormous cockhead hovering close to my mouth.
“Now, I think you’ve said enough for a while.” He grins down at me as he shifts his hips forward, rubbing himself against my wet lips.
I should close my mouth and make him untie me. Remember point two, though? Yeah.
So instead, I open my mouth and take him deep. Because that’s what I become for Miles. A wet, wanton creature of pure pleasure that I don’t even recognize in the mirror.
And you know what?
I like it.
If the rest of my life is just like this?
I’d be fine with that.
Handcuffs and all.
8
Epilogue Two:
One Year Later
Miles
The end of the world wasn’t so bad.
Alright, the world didn’t actually end. It just...froze for a month. The thawing took a little longer. Around six months for things to truly get back to normal. Six months of people awkwardly waving instead of hugging or shaking hands. It might have been enough to drive me insane.
Except for Dahlia.
She still swears up and down to anyone who will listen that I saved her during the quarantine, but I always make sure to tell them the truth.
We saved each other.
Looking back on it now, my life before her was so radically different that it’s like I did die in the plague. The all-work-no-play Miles of before doesn’t exist anymore. Dahlia has brought so much life and light and love into my life, I can’t imagine it without her.
There are a lot of people out there who aren’t so fortunate. People who don’t want to be victims again. That’s why Dahlia teaches classes on emergency preparedness every week at the local community college library, open to everyone who wants to attend.
She looks amazing from my vantage point at the back of the class. Life with me has been good for her too. Her short pixie cut got kind of shaggy by the end of quarantine, and she refused to let me anywhere near it with my pocket knife for some reason.
Women can be picky about that sort of thing.
“Alright, folks. Who can tell me what the most important goal is for a population during an outbreak?”
There’s a sea of hands. Dahlia is a good teacher, but it’s also the students themselves. After what they saw, people are more focused. Sharper.
“Lisa, if you please?”
“Stopping exponential growth.” The slight blonde girl looks like she’s not even out of high school, but her tone of voice is confident. It should be, she’s right.
“Exactly correct. If you turn to page five of your handout for today, you’ll see the graphs. Now, math was never my strong suit, but it’s really pretty simple. Here, you can see how in the last pandemic, South Korea managed to flatten out their curve. This is because their government took drastic steps. As we well know, we can’t always trust people to make those decisions, so next time…” She trails off, waiting for the response.
“We’ll do it ourselves!” The chorus of students is almost deafening.
It would have been cheesy if it wasn’t so damn right. These people have been through hell, and come out the other side. That’s what really makes a survivor. No amount of hoarded Charmin will ever teach the most valuable lesson in survival:
You have to do it yourself.
“Alright. Great job everyone. Now get out of here, this many people in one spot gives me the willies.” Laughter from the assorted throng. Dahlia has gotten excellent at reading a room. Her first class had gone a little less smoothly.
There’d only been one fire, and she’d put it out before I even got there.
See? Progress.
“Miss Cooper, I had a question. Do you mind if I stay after?” I whisper in her ear as I sneak up behind her once the class has dispersed.
She squeals in delight, spinning in my arms and planting a kiss on me. I hold her gently, one hand around her waist, the other cradling her round, swollen belly.
“Don’t worry, Miles,” She breaks the kiss and puts her hand over mine. “I’m not that fragile. And for the last time, it’s Mrs. Turner to you. Always.” She waggles her wedding ring under my nose, making the diamond glitter and shine in the light.
“For once, I’m not taking any chances.” I smile, rubbing her pregnant stomach. I glance around the room, squinting at the few stragglers, mentally willing them to leave.
I kiss my wife again, a deep, wet kiss that lasts so long that everyone is gone by the time I open my eyes.
Just like I planned.
Without another word, I scoop her up and plant her onto the desk, my hands tugging her skirt up and her panties down.
“Miles, what are you— !” She starts, but the sound of my zipper coming down cuts her off.
“It’s been hours, doll. I need you. Now.” I growl against her ear, pressing her back flat against the desk, climbing on top of her and entering her with one smooth stroke. Her protests die on her lips, her moans quickly reaching a crescendo and holding as I fuck into her with every ounce of pent up energy I have.
After months of only having each other for entertainment, it feels wrong for my cock not to be inside her. Wrong to not have the taste of her kiss on my lips. It’s one side effect of isolation I don’t mind.
“You know, no one would blame us for being extra cautious,” I say, after, as we lay amongst a pile of strewn about papers catching our breath. “We could just hide out somewhere for the next few months.”
Dahlia shakes her head, laughing.
“You just want to go back to our twenty-four-seven sexathon. I’m wise to your tricks, Mr. Turner.”
My hands caress her soft skin as I smirk at her.
“Like you don’t. Weren’t you the one who woke me up by climbing on top of me this morning?”
She giggles and presses her forehead against mine.
“I love you, Miles.”
“I love you too, Dahlia.”
We have each other. We always will. If anything happens?
We’ll be prepared for it.
Thanks for reading, but before you go…
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Coming Soon:
Quarantine and Cowboy
Quarantine and Chill: Alpha Isolation
Quarantine and Cash: Alpha Isolation
Also by Regina Wade
Getting Lucky
Crowning Glory
Rising Star
Rising Heat
About
the Author
Regina Wade writes steamy, short romances that can be devoured in one sitting. She likes her heroines curvy and smart, her heroes big and bad, and her love stories as OTT as she can make them. Sometimes tongue-in-cheek, always tongues in cheeks.
