Page 118 of Choosing a Forever
She looks stunning like this, her lips parted, eyes fluttering closed as she bounces lightly.
“I’m right there, Tal, don’t stop,” Mack moans, her head falling back between her shoulders.
I lean forward and nip at her nipples before twisting my tongue around the jewelry. When I suck one into my mouth, she gasps and clenches around me. She’s close—thank goodness, I’m about to burst.
I switch nipples, scraping my teeth gently over the sensitive nub, and she comes, squeezing me so tight it sets off my own orgasm. As I paint the inside of her pussy, Mack collapses into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I feel her soft, satisfied smile pressed against my neck.
I press a kiss to the side of her head, then help her off of me before we clean up. We slip into pajamas and spend the rest of the night reading next to each other.
Things are perfect.
Chapter 41
Talmage
26 years old…
Things are better since coming back to Utah. I still feel like there’s something missing, but I can’t pinpointwhat.
I accepted the position as Captain and adopted a little golden retriever who’s currently in training to be a search and rescue dog. Siren may just be the love of my life. When I looked into her big puppy eyes, I knew she was meant to be mine.
Going to church has become a struggle. I used to love putting on a suit and interacting with the other single adults. In California, there were a lot of older singles I had stuff in common with. We were at similar stages of life, and we had the same views on marriage.
Here, everyone is soyoung.Freshly graduated eighteen and nineteen-year-olds fill the pews, and though I know some people wouldn’t balk at the age gap,Idon’t like it. I feel weird trying to date a woman whose peers are high schoolers.
I’ve heard some other guys talking about how younger women are easier to “train” or whatever, and I refuse to participate in that rhetoric. Women are not beings to be trained or used. They’re humans with opinions and ideas, and they deserve to be treated with respect.
The more I listen to the men around me… the more I realize I don’t think I like the way marriage or women are talked about in the church. Are women really only seen as incubators for the next generation? Are they really only supposed to go to school until they find a husband? What about their goals and aspirations?
The thought of someone teaching Lauren and Lacey their dreams aren’t valid makes my skin crawl with unease.
Not for the first time, I wonder if the church isn’t as great as I’ve been taught to believe.
Mack and I have officially been married for a little over two months, and maybe we’re in the honeymoon phase, but I swear I can’t get enough of her.
If I’m not at work, I’m sitting next to Mack while she clicks away on her computer. If we’re home alone, our clothes are off, and we’re exploring each other’s bodies. I’ve been memorizing every line of ink on her skin, listening to her explain the stories behind them or the way it felt to be in the chair.
My favorite moments are in the post-orgasmic haze, though, when our sweaty bodies are smooshed together and I feel Mack’s heartbeat racing. The connection we have has only grown stronger in the last month.
Everything’s been great since lunch with my parents. Mom’s even taken Mack to get her nails done to try and bridge the gap between them.
Mack said it’s a bit awkward, but she can tell my mom is trying, and with time, she can see them forming a closer bond.
Thank whatever higher power exists for that.
Tonight is Hannah and Morgan’s one year anniversary. Since they got married at the courthouse and didn’t have a big wedding, they’re having a party to celebrate.
I’m sitting on the bed in my suit, waiting for Mack to finish getting ready, when the bathroom door opens. All the air rushes from my lungs, and all the blood in my body plummets south.
I’ve seen my wife dressed up before, and I’ve seen her comfy in old sweats. I’ve seen her makeup done meticulously and bare-faced and perfect. I love every version of her.
But goddamnthis dress might just do me in.
“Is this dress okay? I know the invitation said ‘cocktail,’ but… is it toorisqué?”
“No.” My voice comes out gravelly, so I clear my throat. “No. It’s perfect. You lookincredible,Firefly.”
Her hair is curled in soft ringlets and pulled half back with wispy tendrils framing her face.
