I follow, pumping more cum into her, the dual penetration pushing me over.
Exhausted, she collapses beside me on the floor, our bodies tangled.
The room smells of sex, the floor marked by our passion.
No furniture, but we don't need it.
Just us, breaking in our future.
Her ring catches the fading afternoon light every time she moves her hand.
She can't stop looking at it.
Can't stop touching it.
Can't stop smiling.
"Fifty years," she murmurs.
"At least."
"That's a long time."
"Not long enough."
She shifts, props herself up on her elbow to look at me.
"I never thought I'd have this. Any of this. A man who loves me. A home. A future." She blinks back tears. "For so long, I was convinced I didn't deserve it. That I was too broken. Too damaged. Too much."
"You're not too anything. You're exactly right. Exactly perfect."
"I'm not perfect."
"You're perfect for me. That's all that matters."
She leans down, kisses me softly.
"When do you want to get married?"
"Tomorrow?"
She laughs. "Be serious."
"I am serious. I'd marry you right now if we could find someone to officiate."
"My mother would kill you. She's been waiting for this her whole life."
"Fine. Not tomorrow. But soon. I don't want a long engagement."
"Neither do I." She settles back against me. "Small wedding?"
"Whatever you want."
"I want small. Just family. The club. The people who matter."
"Done."
"And I want to wear my mom’s dress. If it still fits. If Mom kept it."
