Hooking his thumbs in his waistband, he pulled down and his thick cock bobbed out. My clit throbbed.
“I’ve never had sex in this condo before,” Emery said huskily. “So that means I’ve got about 1500 square feet of uncharted living space and three days to fuck you on every surface possible. We better make good use of the time.”
EPILOGUE
Two Years Later
EMERY
“Uncle E! Look, I’m Rudolf.”
Glancing down at Lizzie, I smiled at her red nose, painted cheeks, and headband antlers. “The cutest reindeer I’ve ever seen.”
She skipped away to rejoin Estelle at her face painting station.
We were having our first annual Black Friday Fundraiser at our animal shelter, One Home at a Time.
It was chaos. People of all ages explored the rooms and halls filled with cages—cats on the right side of the lobby, dogs on the left. All of them were ready for adoption.
Turns out, quitting The Pussy Tamer had not only been the right move for my personal life, but it also opened a lot of doors I never even knew existed.
When a rival TV network heard about my early departure from NTT, they’d pounced on the chance to recruit me for a brand-new show.
And I promptly turned them down… Until they told me they wanted to film a documentary—a real documentary—about the rehabilitation of abused and neglected animals.
There were no cheesy lines. No unethical practices. And best of all, no traveling around the country.
The producers had allowed me to have a say in where the permanent shelter location was, and of course, I chose Remington.
They provided the start-up money and paid me to run the rehabilitation center in exchange for filming one week out of every month. I was in charge of everything: hiring employees, finding volunteers, working with the rescue animals, and finding them suitable homes.
And in the process, I found my real passion—fixing the unfixable.
The ratings spoke for themselves. People were genuinely interested in the journey of damaged dogs and cats, watching them go from utterly unadoptable to happy and loved.
Fortunately, I never had to make good on my threats to Steve about animal endangerment. Rhonda took care of that for me. She was pretty upset about my decision to leave, though she understood. She’d seen firsthand what a dick Steve had been and made a misconduct complaint to the network. He resigned before they had a chance to fire him.
I had no idea where he was now. Possibly shearing llamas in Peru. Maybe those tests weren’t so far off after all.
The best part was, NTT was very willing to negotiate on the terms of my contract so they could avoid bad publicity or a lawsuit. I would always be grateful to them for the opportunities they’d given me. They were my leg up in the world.
And without The Pussy Tamer, I never would’ve met Estelle.
They did end up finding a replacement for me. At first, it was a little weird being on the other side of the screen, but the new guy did a great job. Estelle and I were sure to tune in every Wednesday night to watch it, surrounded by Alice, Bobby, and Peter.
After I moved back, Estelle refused to let me get a place of my own. But her landlord still wouldn’t allow us to have three cats, so we found a new apartment together.
Then the following summer we took a leap, getting engaged and buying a house all in the same week. We’d found a cute one-story home just two blocks from Nikki’s house. The first night we moved in, Estelle lost at strip poker on purpose and we made love until the sun came up.
I was pulled from my thoughts by a firm clap on the back.
“I think it’s safe to say we should do this again next year,” Dr. Knight muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “We’ve raised over ten thousand dollars this afternoon.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered, relief filling me. It wasn’t that we were in trouble financially, because the network covered what donations couldn’t. But I was also in charge of the budget, so I knew how costly it was to keep this place going. “Thanks for the update.”
Dr. Knight was our full-time veterinarian until I got my degree. I’d just gotten accepted into the vet med program at the university, but I had several years to go before I could practice medicine. Someday in the future, I would be the vet here, but until then I was happy in the present.
Estelle stood up from her chair, sending the last kid away with a butterfly on her cheek.
I watched my wife, outright leering at her ass as she swayed out of the room.
We’d gotten married the year before on Halloween and it was the costume party of all costume parties. Estelle had looked gorgeous walking down the aisle toward me in the Marie Antoinette dress made by her great aunt—the same eccentric aunt who shot Silly String at us as we left the church.
Since Dad hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding, we brought the wedding to him. In between the ceremony and the reception, we went by Windsor Lakes for a visit. As soon as he’d smiled at us, I knew he was having a good day, which made my day even better. We hung around for over an hour, laughing, taking pictures, and making memories he couldn’t recall today.
His speech was slipping more and more. Basic activities such as swallowing or walking were difficult for him. His mind was forgetting how to take care of his body. But at least I was nearby to help him through it, even if it had been three months since he’d recognized me.
Before Estelle turned the corner down the hall, she tossed me a wink over her shoulder.
I followed, stopping a few times to thank people for coming and directing them to the front desk for adoption applications.
Then I headed for the back room, where we kept the animals who weren’t ready for homes yet.
My absolute favorite cases were the feral kittens—the ones who’d been born in the woods, under porches, behind dumpsters. They didn’t know how to be domesticated house pets because human contact was a completely foreign concept. They often came in emaciated, flea-ridden, and aggressive as hell.
But with patience and love, eventually they came around.
“You’re going to enjoy this someday, I promise,” I heard Estelle say softly.
I shut the door, and I saw her cradling one of the wild ones. She was gently petting his gray head while holding the scruff on the back of his neck, just like his mother would. He let out a tiny hiss, but Estelle just smiled at him.
Coming up behind her, I wrapped my arms around the swell of her round stomach and kissed her neck. “You better not be cleaning litter boxes. It’s not good for the babies.”
She turned her face toward me, a smirk on her red lips. “Are you kidding? Being off poop-scoop duty is literally the best thing about being pregnant.”
I knew she wasn’t even joking—she’d had a rough six months. Her morning sickness had been all-day sickness that lasted until she made it to eighteen weeks. Then the fatigue hit. She’d had to hire extra employees at the costume shop this season, and I knew it bothered her to hand over the reins.
“How are you holding up?”
“Exhausted,” she said, putting the kitten back in the kennel with his litter mates. “And my feet feel like they got hit by sledgehammers.”
I winced. “Sorry, babe.”
She shrugged. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re carrying twins.”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. Twins. A boy and a girl.
“Of course you’d knock me up with a litter,” she went on with a playful tone. She loved to give me a hard time about it, even though she’d been elated at the news. Two birds, one stone, she’d said.
We both gasped when I felt a strong kick against my palm. I rubbed my hand there, hoping to feel it again. Our babies didn’t disappoint. A foot, or maybe an elbow, pushed back.
“No.” Estelle sighed. “That’s the best part about being pregnant.”
“You know what the best part is for me?” I nuzzled the side of her neck, inhaling the jasmine and honey scent I l
oved so much.
She scoffed. “The fact that I’m a horny, sex-crazed maniac?”
“You say that like it’s any different from how you’ve always been,” I retorted. She elbowed me, and I chuckled. Tightening my arms around her, I cupped the underside of her stomach. “You see… Right now, I’m holding my three greatest somethings.”
“Emery.” Turning in my arms, she tipped her head back to look at me with watery eyes. “My mascara isn’t waterproof. You can’t say shit like that to me when I’m hormonal.”
“There’s no limit to the things I’d do for you,” I said, starting the game we played at least once a week. “I’d ride a tricycle for you.”
That got her to laugh. “You did do that. And it’s a bike.”
“I’d dress in drag for you.”
“You did that too.”
“I’d go broke for you.”
“That almost happened. I’d get on a hundred planes for you,” she said, playing along.
It was a never-ending game of which one of us loved the other more. We always tried to one-up each other. I usually won, bringing Estelle to uncontrollable laughter or tears or both.
“I’d go to the store to get Rocky Road ice cream for you at 3 a.m.” That actually did happen. The middle of the night was the only time my wife’s morning sickness had left her alone.
“I would pull all-nighters, helping you bottle feed these guys.” She tipped her head toward the wild ones.
“I know you would,” I responded. “But I gotta draw the line somewhere. You need your rest.”
Estelle’s smile faded as she ran her finger over the indent in my bottom lip, her tone no longer joking. “If we ever get separated—by death or otherwise—I’d dream of you every night just so we could be together.”
It was a punch straight to my heart, in the best way.
Now I was the one with watery eyes. The ‘otherwise’ she talked about was the disease that had consumed my dad. I’d been open with her about my fears when it came to Alzheimer’s. There was a chance it would come for me. It was genetic, after all.
But knowing she’d be there for me, that she’d stick by me through it… It made it seem less scary.
Blinking away the sudden stinging in my eyes, I touched my forehead to hers and smiled. “Okay, baby. You won this round.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To my husband and kids—I feel like a broken record every time I write this exact same thing in my acknowledgements, but I mean it when I say I couldn’t do this without you. You’re my greatest inspiration and my biggest supporters through this process. I love you!
Amie and Miranda—You two are listed together because you’re a package deal (and I couldn’t be happier about that). I’ve suffered through plane farts for you, and I’d do it again. We’ve only met once, but somewhere along the way, you’ve become my best friends. Thanks for embracing my crazy.
To my betas—Liz, Tina, Amber, Amie, and Miranda. You guys rock! Thanks for being the first to read Untamable.
Amber—As far as personal assistants go, it doesn’t get better than you. I honestly don’t know what I would do without your help!
Tina—Thanks for being such an awesome table assistant. My second book signing was so much fun because of you. Let’s do it again someday!
My Significant Otters—I’m glad I found people who love otters and romance as much as I do. Not to be confused with ‘otter romance’, which would be an interesting book, right? Thanks for being part of my reader group and making this job so fun for me!
And to the readers, bloggers, PR teams, editors, graphic designers, and authors who have supported me along the way… Thank you so much for being my village and my tribe. Whether I’m a new-to-you author or you’ve been with me from the beginning, I appreciate more than you know. I couldn’t do this without all of you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jamie Schlosser grew up on a farm in Illinois, surrounded by cornfields. Although she no longer lives in the country, her dream is to return to rural living someday. As a stay-at-home mom, she spends most of her days running back and forth between her two wonderful kids and her laptop. She loves her family, iced coffee, and happily-ever-afters. You can find out more about Jamie and her books by visiting these links:
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