The Culmination (The Club Series Book 4)

by Lauren Rowe

  And in that moment I knew with absolute clarity I had no desire to protect against pregnancy. To the contrary, I wanted nothing more than to make a beautiful, precious, salsa-and-Plato-infused Faraday. And since that realization thirteen days ago, the flame of my baby-yearning has only turned into a raging forest fire.

  I must admit, though, right now that raging forest fire inside me might just be horniness. Holy Sex Starvation, Batman, it’s been a long time. Three weeks without making love to my woman wizard is the longest I’ve ever gone, by far, and I’m a bucking bronco of sexual heat right now. Just last night, I was able to give myself an orgasm, no Jonas required—a feat I’ve never performed solo before—simply by touching myself and visualizing Jonas’ erect penis, its tip wet with arousal, plunging into me and ejaculating deep inside me. Oh God, the thought of one of Jonas’ mega-sperms implanting itself into one of my huevitos gives me a freaking mind-gasm.

  Kat shudders with excitement and looks at her watch. “The minute Josh and I get home, I’m gonna be all over that man like Jack the Ripper on a London hooker.”

  I laugh and peer toward the airport gateway where the boys should appear any minute now. “I’m gonna be all over Jonas like a black bear on a camper with a bag of chips.”

  Kat giggles. “I’m gonna be all over Josh like luck on a charm.”

  “Like track marks on a junkie’s arm.”

  Kat laughs. “You’re so funny.”

  “You funny,” Gracie repeats, and Kat and I laugh.

  “I funny,” I agree. “You say the darnedest things, Gracie.”

  “I’m gonna be all over Josh like a Girl Scout on a Thin Mint,” Kat says.

  “Good one. I’m gonna be all over Jonas like sunscreen on an albino.”

  Kat bursts out laughing. “Oh, that’s a really good one. You always come up with the weirdest ones.”

  “That’s ’cause I’m a weirdo.”

  “You really are.”

  “So do you concede?”

  “You wish.” She thinks for a second. “I’m gonna be all over Josh like a Speedo on Michael Phelps.”

  I burst out laughing, which in turn makes Kat laugh harder—which, in turn, makes Gracie start giggling, too.

  “That’s a hard one to beat,” I say.

  “Do you concede?”

  “Hale naw.” I bite my lip, thinking. “I’m gonna be all over Jonas like E.T. on a phone?”

  “Cute—but it doesn’t come close to Michael Phelps in a Speedo.”

  “You’re right.” I bite my lip. “Hmm. I’m gonna be all over Jonas like a Pokemon T-shirt on a middle-schooler.”

  Kat laughs. “You funny.”

  “I funny. Does a Pokemon T-shirt beat Michael Phelps’ Speedo?”

  “Maybe, by a hair.”

  I put my hand up for Gracie. “Gimme five, Little G. Auntie Sarah kicked your mommy’s pretty booty again.”

  “You didn’t kick my booty. I said it beat me by a hair. And I’m not even sure about that.”

  Gracie lays her little palm in mine, and I kiss the top of her hand.

  “It sounds like Josh and Jonas are both in for epic maulings tonight,” Kat says. “Damn. Three weeks is a long-ass time.”

  “I seriously wouldn’t have survived without you and Gracie.”

  “Dada?” Gracie asks.

  “Yep, he’s gonna walk right through that door, baby girl. Any minute.” Kat turns to me. “Holy bleep-balls, my panties are on fire.”

  I laugh. Kat’s mom-speak never ceases to amuse me. “Mine, too.”

  “Dada!” Gracie shrieks, pointing her chubby arm. And sure enough there they are: The Faraday twins—both of them sporting ripped muscles, Sasquatch beards, and beaming smiles.

  I sprint toward Jonas, shrieking, and he drops the backpack he was holding like a hot potato. I leap into him, practically bowling him over, throwing my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, and begin devouring his beautiful, bushy face.

  “Sarah,” he says, his kisses as frantic as mine. “Baby.”

  He’s holding me up by my ass, his hard-on pressed sublimely against my crotch, and he’s kissing me like I’ve just rescued him from the high seas. Good lord, his tongue tastes delicious; his whiskers against my face are divine; his scent is intoxicating. And, most of all, his hard-on inside his jeans is making me squeal with excitement. I yank on his hair, moaning, pressing myself into him feverishly. Surely, I’ve never enjoyed any kiss in the history of my life this much. Holy moly, I’m inhaling this poor boy—abusing him, really. I want to gobble him up, rape him, ravage him, chew him up, bite him from head to toe. “I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper, grinding my body against his, running my hands through his hair, pressing myself against him like I’m trying to literally meld into him.

  “I’m never leaving you again,” Jonas whispers.

  “But you had fun?” I pepper his beautiful face with kisses.

  “Yeah, it was incredible.” His hands squeeze my ass hungrily. “But, oh my God, I missed this ass.”

  I bury my face in his neck and breathe in the unmistakable scent of him. “The climb was good?”

  “Yeah, fantastic. Life-changing. Spiritual. Oh my God, Sarah.” He kisses me again, deeply, and I press myself into him with all my might.

  “I love the beard,” I say, running my fingers over his furry chin and tugging on it. “You sexy beast.”

  He rubs his whiskers against my chin. “We’re gonna have so much fun with this beard before I shave it.”

  I run my hands through his hair, shuddering with my arousal. “Yes, please.”

  “Unkie Jo Jo?”

  Jonas and I abruptly stop what we’re doing and smile at each other.

  We somehow manage to peel our bodies apart, and Jonas scoops Gracie into his arms with a loud Big Foot growl. He rubs his beard against her soft cheek, making her squeal, and my heart melts at the sight of him being so playful with her. Hot damn, I love this man. And, holy crappola, I can’t wait to watch him being playful with our future baby one day.

  I feel a nudge against my shoulder. “Hey, Sarah,” Josh says, putting out his arms.

  “Welcome home, Josh,” I say, throwing my arms around him.

  He squeezes me tight. “If you ever find yourself doubting how Jonas feels about you,” he says softly into my ear, “then ask me to tell you all the amazing things he said about you during our trip—nonstop every fucking day for three fucking weeks oh my fucking God.”

  I laugh. “Oh, Josh. I missed you.”

  We retrieve the guys’ huge backpacks from baggage claim and head out to Kat’s Range Rover, with Josh, Kat and Gracie walking arm in arm in front of Jonas and me through the parking lot, Jonas and I clutching each other tightly.

  “I have a surprise for you at home,” I say softly, pressing myself into him feverishly as we walk.

  He leans into my ear. “I hope it involves you taking a ride on my beard.” He grins.

  When we reach Kat’s car, Jonas drops his backpack to the ground, grabs my face in his hands, and plants a kiss on my lips that makes my heart stop.

  “Gimme your backpack, bro,” Josh says after a long minute, during which Jonas’ kiss has escalated from “I’m so glad to be home” to “I’m gonna fuck your brains out.” I hear the trunk of Kat’s car opening. “Hand me your backpack, Jonas.”

  But Jonas ignores Josh, and so do I—because kisses like this don’t come around every frickin’ day. Oh my God, my clit is pulsing. My nipples are hard. Jonas could yank down my panties right here and now and slide into me without even the slightest hint of friction to slow him down.

  I hear a scuffling noise on the ground next to us followed by the sound of Kat’s trunk slamming shut. “Hey, Jonas,” Josh says, his voice commanding attention.

  Jonas and I disengage and look at Josh.

  “You’re not the only guy here who’s dying to have sex with his beautiful wife. Now get in the fucking car, asshole.”

  “Language,
babe,” Kat says from inside the car. She’s bent over the back seat, buckling Gracie into her car seat.

  “Get in the fucking car, you fucking asshole,” he says softly, so as not be heard by Kat. “Pretty fucking please so I can get home and fuck my fucking gorgeous wife.”

  When Kat is done securing Gracie’s various safety belts, Jonas and I pile into the backseat of the car, on either side of Gracie, our eyes fixed on each other, our chests heaving.

  The second after we’ve fastened our seatbelts, Jonas reaches across Gracie and touches his fingertips against my bare forearm—and just the feel of his skin brushing up and down against mine makes my hair stand on end and my crotch burn.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Kat says to Josh from the front passenger seat. “You guys didn’t climb the tallest mountain?”

  “Babe, of course, we did. You think we went all the way down to Peru to climb some kind of bunny hill?”

  Kat laughs. “Well, no. But—”

  “I told you all about our itinerary before I left, babe. Base camp was in Huarez. From there, we climbed Mount Ishinca, one of the smaller peaks, just to acclimatize ourselves to the altitude for a few days. And then, only after we were accustomed to the altitude, we climbed Huascarán...”

  I can’t listen anymore. I can’t concentrate. My clit is throbbing too hard. I’ve got blinders on. Sex, sex, sex, sex. I can’t think of anything else. Of course, at some point in the near future, I’ll gladly watch videos and pore over photos and ask all kinds of earnest questions about the boys’ climb, and I’ll surely swoon and gasp and squeal at every last detail. But not right now. No, at this particular moment in time, my mind is consumed with one, singular thought: I want to make a baby with my sweet Jonas—emphasis on the “make” part of that sentence. Oh, holy crappola. I want to make an effing baby with my hunky-monkey Jonas all night long, over and over and over again, ’til my body literally gives out and I’m dripping with sweat and his cum and my eyes have rolled back into my head at least a dozen times. Hellz yeah, I do.

  The only question is whether Jonas is also down with that plan. Yes, of course, I know with certainty Jonas is on board with the “dripping with his cum” part of the equation. But will Jonas be as gung ho as he was in Thailand about the “baby” part of my agenda?

  Jonas reaches across Gracie to brush his fingertips against my cheek and I practically convulse with arousal on the spot.

  Jonas licks his lips. “I’m gonna make you come so hard,” he mouths over Gracie’s sleeping body.

  “Fuck yeah,” I mouth back, nodding like a bobblehead doll.

  Jonas grins broadly, revealing his perfect, white teeth, and then he flickers his magical tongue at me, his eyes smoldering, clearly implying that’s the maneuver he intends to use on me when we get home.

  “Yes, please,” I blurt, much louder than intended.

  He flashes the most adorable grin I’ve ever seen.

  “Please and thank you,” I add softly. “As soon as humanly possible.”

  Josh turns on the radio and “Crash” suddenly fills the car. “Hey, OAP Cruz—” Josh begins.

  “Turn that off!” Jonas and I both blurt at the same time—and then we look at each other and laugh ourselves silly.

  Chapter 22

  Sarah

  As Josh and Kat peel away from our driveway, no doubt racing off to their house to fuck like rabbits, Jonas and I sprint toward the front door of our house, panting and growling like rabid dogs. We’ve barely made it inside before Jonas hurls his massive backpack to the floor, grunts like a gorilla, and begins ripping my clothes off my body like they’re on fire.

  Once Jonas has ripped my dress off and flung it emphatically across the entryway, he yanks my G-string off with a loud groan, unlatches my bra, and slams me against the closed front door, mauling me with breathtaking intensity. Before I can even move to disrobe him in return, his fingers are deep inside me, touching the precise spot that ramps me up like lightning; his lips are devouring me voraciously, and his free hand is grabbing my ass. “Oh God, I love this ass,” he says. “I dreamed about this ass.” He leans down and buries his face in my breasts, like a kid bingeing on cookies, and nuzzles his nose into my cleavage. “Holy fuck, I want to physically eat you.” He sucks furiously on one of my nipples. “Oh God, yes. Thank you, God. I’m never leaving you again.”

  His excitement is sending me quickly over the edge, and within two minutes, bizarre noises are already escaping my throat.

  Jonas’ spare hand leaves my ass and moves to open the front of his jeans. I reach down to help him out, and when his massive erection springs out, its tip already shiny and dripping with wetness, I squeal at the sight of it.

  “Jack in the box,” I say, swirling my fingertip over the delicious bead of moisture pooled on his tip.

  “Only if you’re the box.”

  I laugh. I always laugh at that one.

  He licks my neck and spreads my legs with his muscular thigh, positioning his hard-on to plunge inside me.

  Oh jeez. I’ve got to tell him my eggs have been going commando for almost two weeks. Shit. And I’ve planned a really cute way of telling him.

  “There’s something I need to show you first,” I gasp.

  “Show me later.” He yanks his jeans down farther and pulls his fingers out of me, obviously intending to swap out his penis for his fingers.

  “Jonas, wait,” I gasp, blood rushing mercilessly between my legs. I planned to tell Jonas about my baby-making plans in a memorable way—a Julia-Roberts-in-a-romantic-comedy kind of way—not just blurt it out while getting impaled against the front door of our house. “Bedroom.”

  “Later,” he says. And with that, he plunges into me so deeply my eyes bug out of my head like one of those stress-relief-squeezy things.

  I let out a long, loud, moan of relief and excitement and so does he. Oh God, it feels like it’s been forever since Jonas’ shaft has been inside me, a lifetime since I’ve smelled his masculine scent, eons since I’ve watched his beautiful features contort from outrageous pleasure. Holy crappola. This feels incredible. My clit is already squeezing and pulsing forcefully.

  “Wait,” I gasp, coming to my senses. “I’ve got to show you something.”

  “Next time. I’ll be ready to go again in ten minutes, I promise.”

  So much for my grand gesture. This man’s ready to blow. “I went off the pill two weeks ago,” I blurt, gasping—because, Julia-Roberts-romantic-comedy plans or not, I’ve obviously got to inform the man about the situation. “My ovaries are going pop, pop, pop, Jonas.”

  He kisses me deeply and pulls my hips into him forcefully, his thrusts intensifying, his passion clearly about to boil over.

  “Did you hear me?” I gasp.

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “You feel so fucking good.”

  “You heard me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You wanna make a baby?” Oh my God, saying those words makes my body start to clench and squeeze around Jonas’ hard-on.

  “Fuck yeah.”

  Apparently, that’s the sum total of the mature and reasoned conversation we’re going to have about the most important decision of our entire lives. Because with that he begins thrusting into me like a man possessed. I close my eyes and lose myself to the pleasure my body is experiencing. I focus on the sensation of Jonas’ hard shaft sliding in and out of me, his tip pounding against the magic spot deep inside me, a spot I didn’t even know existed before Jonas introduced me to it not all that long ago. I wrap my legs around his waist and grind my body into him, positioning myself so his shaft rubs against me in just the right way, and that’s all it takes. I’m unfurling. Untethering, as Jonas always says. I touch his rippled muscles and run my hands through his hair and allow my mind to warp and bend and become consumed by the exquisite pleasure my body is feeling.

  “You feel so good,” Jonas says, kissing my neck. “I’ve been going out of my mind. I had to
sneak away from the group at night to jack off, fantasizing about you.”

  That does it. I lose complete control.

  “That’s right, baby,” he says. “Let it go. Howl for me.”

  I begin to howl, right on cue. Everything about this moment feels incredible.

  “Oh, God, you’re a fucking symphony, baby. My favorite noise in the world. God, I missed The Sound.”

  When I’m done convulsing and screaming and making that weird sound he loves so much, I’m surprised to see he’s managed to keep himself from releasing.

  “Hop up,” he says.

  I throw my arms around his neck and let him carry me, my body gyrating on top of his massive erection, across the room. He lays me down on our couch, pulls my butt to the very edge of the cushion, sinks onto his knees on the floor between my legs, and begins running his bushy beard along the insides of my thighs. He inhales my scent and moans. “Oh, I missed that delicious smell,” he says. “Makes my mouth water.”

  I tremble. “I touched myself when you were gone, Jonas.”

  “You did?” Jonas knows I’ve never been too good at self-love. “I made myself come, thinking about you sliding in and out of me and your cum dripping out of me.”

  “Holy shit. So fucking hot,” he mutters. He skims his furry chin against my crotch as he works me with his fingers. “I dreamed about eating you out every single night of my trip. Every night, I dreamed I had your juices all over my whiskers—dripping down my face. One night toward the end, I actually had a wet dream—I haven’t done that since I was a teenager.”

  My clit physically hurts right now. “Please, Jonas. I can’t wait anymore.”

  “My pleasure.” He leans in and begins licking me, and we both let out loud moans of pleasure at the exact same time. I know why I’m moaning like this, but it always amazes me to observe Jonas getting as turned on as me the minute his tongue finds my sweet spot. Within minutes, my body jolts and jerks as warm waves of pleasure throttle my every nerve ending. When I’m done climaxing, he turns my body over and slaps my ass-tattoo.

  “Mine,” he says. He leans down and bites me. “Mine.”