I needed it too badly, then, to draw it out anymore.
I sat back on him, lifted up. His drawn-out groan became a cry of disbelief, of raw explosive release, or what was the beginning of it. When I rose up until he nearly slid out of me, he snarled, and when I finally sank down, his voice broke, because that was when he finally received his full climax.
I felt that vein on the underside of him pulsing as he exploded, and he was trying to grind into me, but this was mine to give, not his to take, and I controlled the pace. I kept it slow, rising up, a series of shallow rolls, feeling him pumping inside me, feeling him fill me with thick wet heat, and then I slammed down until my ass met his thighs with a loud slap and now, now he came. Fully and truly—what he’d felt before was only the precursor, the first warning tremors, and his voice broke and he couldn’t cry out, couldn’t growl, was rendered mute and breathless as I gave him what he needed what I needed, what we needed—full rolling slamming unrestrained thrusts, and I held myself up and gave over to him, rode with him, let him slam up into me as hard as he could, as hard as he needed, bodies meeting with thrust after beautiful thrust, and I touched myself and I came with him, screaming with him and he came for what seemed like an eternity. I felt his seed escaping me, plunged deep and smearing around his still-sliding shaft, felt it thick and wet, felt myself so full of him, dripping with him, and I never knew such a thing could be so beautiful.
When he stopped pulsing, I kept going. Riding him and taking him until there was nothing left, until he began to soften.
He finally lifted me off of him and turned me in his arms and gathered me so he could kiss me, kissing my cheek and lips and nose and forehead, so he could kiss me until we were breathless all over again and whispering words of love…
* * *
She shuddered on me. Head on my chest, her lithe curvaceous body belonging to me, given to me. She tapped my breastbone with a finger in time to my heartbeat—tumtum…tumtum…tumtum.
I left her lying in the bed and returned to clean her, marveling at the privilege she’d given me, the trust she’d shown me. When she was clean, she pulled me down to the bed once more and nestled in my arms.
“Errol?”
“Hmmm?”
“What will our life look like? My family is here, but your career is out there.”
“Our life is what we make it.” I touched her chin, held her eyes. “What do you want our life to look like?”
She hesitated.
“Tell me,” I insisted. “Whatever it is, tell me.”
“I want to go where you go. And when we’re not out there, we’re here.” She closed her eyes. Shivered. “I want our home to be here. Together. I want to watch you play the fiddle with Canaan and Aerie and Myles and Lexie and Corin and Tate. I want to develop photos in our own darkroom. I want a studio where I can paint all day, wearing nothing but one of your shirts. I want…I want to sit in airports with you. Join the mile-high club with you.” She smirked up at me. “Unless you’ve already done that.”
“Nope,” was my only reply.
“Good. That’s ours together, too, then.” She paused to think. “I want to see the world with you. Take photos of everything. I want to go to Machu Picchu with you, and Paris, and Tahiti, and…god, everywhere. And I want us to come home here.” A laugh. “Well, not here here. Ketchikan, here.”
“I’ve never had a home,” I whispered, the word tasting unfamiliar on my tongue. “New Zealand hasn’t been home since I was twelve, since Mum passed. I’ve been itinerant, since.”
She gazed up at me, rolled so she was on top, rested her breasts on my belly and propped her arms on my chest, chin on her hands. “I can be your home.”
“You already are.”
“Can I scare you a little?”
I smiled. “You can try.”
“Someday, when we’re ready, I want to be Mrs. Poppy Sylvain.” Serious dark eyes, only a hint of a smile, watching my reaction carefully. “Is that crazy?”
“Not crazy, or scary. Or, actually, what’s crazy and scary is how not either one it really is.” I brushed hair away from the corner of her mouth. Cupped a breast because I could. “My turn to try and scare you.”
“You can try,” she said, grinning as she echoed my own words.
“After I’ve made you Mrs. Poppy Sylvain, someday, eventually, when we’re ready, I want to make you a mother. I want to…” I choked back emotion. “I want to be a father who’s there. I’ve thought about it a lot, actually. How, if I ever was to fall in love, if there was ever a woman who could love me enough to get me to settle in one place, I’d want to have a baby, just so I can be there for him or her. All the time. Every day. I’d read stories, and change diapers and…and make bottles, and show them how to ride a bike and catch a fish…”
“You’ll be there.” She touched my jaw. “I thought you were going to scare me, Errol. All you’ve done is make me love you all the more.”
“Does this scare you?” I asked, pushing my renewed desire against her soft center.
“Only in how much I want it again,” was her answer.
“Are we crazy to be talking about getting married and having babies already?”
She unwrapped protection and covered me with it. We lay on our sides, merged lazily and slowly, facing each other, noses brushing like butterfly kisses. “My mom told me that love is not dependent on time, it’s just our hearts recognizing the other person as belonging to us.”
“My heart recognizes yours,” I whispered.
“We belong together, so nothing that feels right to us is crazy, regardless of the amount of time we’ve known each other.”
“I’ve never belonged to or with anyone,” I said.
“Me either.” She pulled me on top of her and drew me down for a kiss. “Now we do. You’re mine, Errol. And I’m not letting go.”
“Yours,” I whispered.
“Mine,” she breathed.
“Ours,” we murmured, together.
Lives Lived: A Postscript
Two weeks? Two days, two months, two years. Time meant nothing. We made love a thousand times, a thousand ways.
We returned to Ketchikan, eventually.
There was a studio full of paints and canvasses, and a gallery where our art was sold, photographs and paintings and mixtures of both, even our art merged, becoming one.
There were travels all over the globe, and we made love in exotic places. In the alleys of Casablanca, on a rooftop in Marrakech as a muezzin called the faithful to prayer. On a catamaran sailboat under the shadows of ancient Greek ruins.
There were family get-togethers in Ketchikan, with an ever-growing family.
Bast and Dru ended up with three kids, Brock and Claire with two, and Bax and Eva had five. Canaan and Aerie and Corin and Tate had four each. Lucian and Joss had two kids; Xavier and Harlow waited a long time, and were the only couple to have just one.
Roman refused to be outdone by Baxter, so he and Kitty ended up with six kids of their own. Remington and Juneau had two, but those two were unholy terrors, and thus more than enough. Ramsey and Izzy had one. Charlie and Crow three, Cassie and Ink four—each of them as big as Ink, four boys with his hair and size and heart, but Cassie’s attitude--god preserve their sanity. Lexie and Myles, being public figures like Harlow and Xavier, waited a while, and had two. Torie and Rhys surprised us all by having two sets of twins, which was some kind of statistical improbability considering twins don’t run on either side of their family; one set was identical, both boys, and the other was fraternal, a boy and a girl.
We have three.
Bastien, Celeste, and DJ—Darren Jones.
Lives were lived.
Families were raised.
Love was created, made, cultivated, grown, adapted, matured, multiplied.
There were endings, and beginnings, and everything in between.
A Note From The Author
Here’s where I break the fourth wall. No longer the narrator, the st
oryteller, the author, but someone who has lived with these characters for the past four years—Badd Motherf*cker was published October 28, 2016.
17 books.
34 unique characters, each with their own personalities and flaws and quirks.
I can’t begin to explain how we’ve grown as storytellers in the shaping of these books, how much we’ve learned.
And now? It’s at an end.
Bittersweet, for us—it’s the fruition, the culmination of a series that grew far beyond our wildest expectations. We hope you find this last book satisfying, that it wraps it all up, encapsulates the essence of everything Badd and Goode.
There are loose ends, threads left untied. Questions unanswered. But that’s life, no? Who among us isn’t living with loose threads somewhere behind us, with questions left unanswered? It’s the journey that counts, I think. And what a journey! When this all started with a bedraggled bride walking into a bar and meeting a burly, tattooed, foul-mouthed bartender in Ketchikan, Alaska, we hoped people would like the series enough to let us write all eight of the brothers we originally envisioned.
It just…grew from there.
And grew, and grew.
The question I think is on everyone’s mind, now that you’re reading this final book, is Will there be another spinoff?
No.
Maybe I should write that another way: No?
I don’t like dealing in absolutes, but I feel this series is complete.
I didn’t write THE END at the bottom of the previous page, on purpose. Because while the stories we’re going tell in this particular world are ended, their lives aren’t. They carry on, unseen, in our imaginations.
There are new stories to be written, now. Exciting new ideas we’ve been working on, developing. Characters we’re fleshing out. We want to try new things. And if you’re a long-time reader of Jasinda Wilder stories, you know we never do exactly the same thing twice.
So what’s next?
We have a fun, steamy, funny series planned, something that will feel familiar to our fans, but breaking new ground and turning tropes on their heads as we so love to do.
In our minds, though, the more exciting project is something totally groundbreaking. If you loved Falling Into You, and the rest of The Falling Series, you should be very, very excited for this.
It’s called The Cabin.
Our goal with this story is to take all the elements that make a Jasinda Wilder novel feel so unique and unforgettable, and distill them all together. We’re reaching for new heights with this one. There will be heartbreak and humor, romance and tragedy and redemption; there will be steam, and there will be tears. And, hopefully, at the end of it, a deeper understanding of love, and its meaning and its effect on who we are, how we live.
We want not just to tell a story, but to create new meaning.
We hope you’re as excited as we are for the next adventure in Wilder storytelling.
So, get ready, Wilder readers. The Cabin releases this fall.
* * *
Thank you for your love, support, encouragement and faith.
* * *
Happy reading!
Also by Jasinda Wilder
Visit me at my website: www.jasindawilder.com
Email me: [email protected]
* * *
If you enjoyed this book, you can help others enjoy it as well by recommending it to friends and family, or by mentioning it in reading and discussion groups and online forums. You can also review it on the site from which you purchased it. But, whether you recommend it to anyone else or not, thank you so much for taking the time to read my book! Your support means the world to me!
* * *
My other titles:
* * *
The Preacher's Son:
Unbound
Unleashed
Unbroken
* * *
Biker Billionaire:
Wild Ride
* * *
Big Girls Do It:
Better (#1), Wetter (#2), Wilder (#3), On Top (#4)
Married (#5)
On Christmas (#5.5)
Pregnant (#6)
Boxed Set
* * *
Rock Stars Do It:
Harder
Dirty
Forever
Boxed Set
* * *
From the world of Big Girls and Rock Stars:
Big Love Abroad
* * *
Delilah's Diary:
A Sexy Journey
La Vita Sexy
A Sexy Surrender
* * *
The Falling Series:
Falling Into You
Falling Into Us
Falling Under
Falling Away
Falling for Colton
* * *
The Ever Trilogy:
Forever & Always
After Forever
Saving Forever
* * *
The world of Alpha:
Alpha
Beta
Omega
Harris: Alpha One Security Book 1
Thresh: Alpha One Security Book 2
Duke: Alpha One Security Book 3
Puck: Alpha One Security Book 4
Lear: Alpha One Security Book 5
Anselm: Alpha One Security Book 6
* * *
The world of Stripped:
Stripped
Trashed
* * *
The world of Wounded:
Wounded
Captured
* * *
The Houri Legends:
Jack and Djinn
Djinn and Tonic
* * *
The Madame X Series:
Madame X
Exposed
Exiled
* * *
The Black Room
(With Jade London):
Door One
Door Two
Door Three
Door Four
Door Five
Door Six
Door Seven
Door Eight
Deleted Door
* * *
The One Series
The Long Way Home
Where the Heart Is
There’s No Place Like Home
* * *
Badd Brothers:
Badd Motherf*cker
Badd Ass
Badd to the Bone
Good Girl Gone Badd
Badd Luck
Badd Mojo
Big Badd Wolf
Badd Boy
Badd Kitty
Badd Business
Badd Medicine
Badd Daddy
* * *
Goode Girls:
For a Goode Time Call…
Not So Goode
Goode To Be Badd
A Real Goode Time
Goode Vibrations
* * *
Dad Bod Contracting:
Hammered
Drilled
Nailed
Screwed
* * *
Fifty States of Love:
Pregnant in Pennsylvania
Cowboy in Colorado
Married in Michigan
* * *
Standalone titles:
Yours
* * *
Non-Fiction titles:
You Can Do It
You Can Do It: Strength
You Can Do It: Fasting
* * *
Jack Wilder Titles:
The Missionary
* * *
JJ Wilder Titles:
Ark
* * *
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Jasinda's email newsletter.
* * *
From.Net
Goode Vibrations Page 26
