by Ashley, Ava
“We did,” I say, giving her a kiss. “We made it.”
“Yeah, we made it.” She doesn’t exactly sound overjoyed. “And that’s wonderful! But...but what now? Now that there is no discord, now that we’re safe, now that we can be together and there is no one after us? We never learned how to be normal with each other. What if we can’t survive without the pressure of constant, impending disaster pushing us together? What do we do now that we can just live normal lives?”
“Savannah, look at me.” I shift her on my chest so that she can look up at me. “We don’t need the strife. We don’t need all that shit. We only need each other.”
She looks at me, wide-eyed. “How do you know? How can you be completely sure?”
“I know,” I answer, giving her a tender kiss, “because I love you more than anything else in the world. I love you that much now and I will love that much tomorrow and I will love you that much a thousand tomorrows from now. You are mine now.”
Savannah smiles. “I love you, too.”
And then I kiss my woman.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Savannah - Six months later
My life has changed to its polar opposite since that fight.
Cooper and I now share a nice apartment in a ritzy part of town, paid for with his wins from yet another major tournament victory. That isn’t to suggest that Cooper is the only one with a career. I am doing pretty well professionally myself. Business has been booming at The Ink Joint ever since Cooper’s last fight. After winning yet again, my dreamboat boyfriend turned the spotlight to me, publicly pronouncing me both his favorite tattoo artist and the love of his life. People come from all over town, and even from other states and all the way from California, to get inked by me. I am now the head tattoo artist at The Ink Joint and the huge increase in revenue has done wonders for the place’s aesthetic. Now we are just as ritzy as the hoity-toity parlors that wouldn’t take me less than eight months ago, but we still have our blue collar charm.
To celebrate our six-month anniversary of being happily together, Cooper invited me on a trip back to New York City.
“We are going to do it right this time,” he says, when he surprises me with the trip. And my goodness—yes, we are. We fly over in first class from Chicago and a shiny, black Lincoln town car with a stiff, uniformed driver, the very image of what you would imagine a chauffeur or butler to be, drives us to our temporary home for the duration of the stay.
The Four Seasons.
As the daughter of a motorcycle club king, I have experienced a lot of luxury in my life. I have had and seen a lot of nice things. But the Four Seasons in New York City? It takes even my breath away. Our enormous suite has floor-to-ceiling windows along one whole wall of the bedroom, providing a breathtaking view of Central Park, in bloom for spring. The bed is enormous enough that we can fit a full-sized truck between us, but we sleep the same way every night, curled up with each other in the middle of the bed. It is how we have slept every night for the past six months, without fail, and it is wonderful.
We eat at some of the world’s finest restaurants, see beautiful Broadway musicals, and visit all the tourist hot spots. It is all amazing, but none of it compares to the time we have alone together. Cooper is as generous out of bed as he is in it. He even humors me with a surprise shopping spree down Fifth Avenue. Admittedly, he really perks up in Agent Provocateur. He manages to keep it more or less together for a while. But then I need his opinion on a black, silk teddy. It only takes one glance in the dressing room and Cooper is done with shopping.
We have to rush back to the hotel after that.
We barely make it into the elevator before we fall all over each other like horny teenagers.
“I can’t wait to get you naked,” Cooper growls in my ear. Not quite quiet enough, however, because I see the elderly elevator attendant’s emotionless face take on a shocked expression just before the elevator’s doors slide shut.
“He heard that!” I protest, but Cooper is already working at the zipper on the back of my dress.
“Let him have a little excitement for a change,” Cooper replies, as devious as ever. “I know I’m planning on having a lot of fun...” He slides a hand up between my legs, under my dress, and up against my hot, ready sex.
“I—” I start, but my protests trail off into a sigh of pleasure. I was going to say something about cameras and elevator footage, but I can’t focus with Cooper’s fingers expertly stroking my clit in clockwise circles with increasing intensity.
The elevator doors swing open with a ping and Cooper sweeps me up, literally off of my feet, and runs the fifteen or so feet to our suite. He pulls the room key out of his pocket with one hand and holds me easily with the other arm, nibbling on my ear all the while. The man is the king of multi-taskers when it comes to pleasure. As soon as he puts me down inside the room, my unzipped dress slides easily down to my feet, exposing all of my bare flesh. I realize I never got around to putting my underwear back on in our rush to pay for the lingerie at Agent Provocateur and get back to the room.
It is okay. It only saves us some time.
I unbutton Cooper’s shirt, kissing the hot skin of his neck, and when he shrugs it off, I almost lose it entirely at the sensation of his skin on mine after having to restrain myself during the cab ride back. I slide down to my knees, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his jeans. All of my five senses are awake and roaring as my entire body burns with a fiery lust. I close my lips around his shaft and take his rock-hard member deep into my throat. Having Cooper there, and in me, turns me on so much that my gag reflex doesn’t even kick in at all as I slide my head up and down, moving him in and out of my throat.
“Oh, baby,” Cooper moans and I suck more intensely, teasing the base of his member with my tongue. The more I suck, and the more pleasure I give Cooper, the more aroused I become. I am wetter than a hot tub by the time he pulls me up to my feet.
“I am going to take you now,” Cooper growls and slides into my oh-so-ready sex with a single gratifying thrust that sends my eyes rolling back in my head with ecstasy. With his member in me the whole time, he backs me up to the bed and gently pushes me onto it. He pulls out of me, then hovers, poised at my entrance, for a moment, teasing me.
“Oh, please!” I beg. “Give me my satisfaction.”
“Savannah,” he groans, thrusting into me and sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. “You drive me crazy.”
I arch my back up off of the bed to kiss him passionately, his lips hot against mine. He wraps his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer to him as he kisses me, hot and heavy. That does it. We go soaring over the edge together, completely uninhibited as we yield to the pleasure and the sweet satisfaction of the perfect orgasm.
Entirely spent, we fall to our sides, my body alive with the tingles of my sweet satisfaction, and breathe out in bliss as I curl up against Cooper on the softest of all beds. Despite all the luxury, what I love most about this trip is the 24/7 unbounded and endless time together with Cooper. I was scared, when we first started out as a real couple, that we wouldn’t make it. I was scared that it would turn out that our love was situational and that it would have lost its shine before the seasons changed. I was worried that our spark would dull. But it hasn’t. And that brings me to now, and this blissful moment. I grin to myself, thinking back on what had happened just moments before.
Yeah, our spark has definitely not grown dull.
Cooper shifts in the bed beside me, sliding out from where I am still lying half on top of him.
“Is everything okay?” I murmur, eyes still half closed in post-coital bliss.
“Everything is better than okay,” Cooper answers, bending down to give me a kiss. He reaches down and pulls on his boxers. They’re my favorite pair, a solid red cotton pair that I gave him for Christmas.
“Oh, boo,” I pretend to pout. “Why clothes?”
“Just these,” Cooper laughs. “I can’t do what I’m about to do n
aked.”
“And what’s that?” I raise an eyebrow. “Are you going to strip for me? You might want to start with a little more than that, then...”
“Haha, maybe later.” Cooper walks out of the room into the cavernous offshoot that the Four Seasons calls a walk-in closet.
“What are you doing, babe?” I call. He doesn’t answer and I hear some rustling. Then, a few moments later, he emerges from the closet. His face has a surprisingly intense expression for casual after-sex lounging and his hand is closed around a black, velvet box. My breath catches in my throat, heartbeat quickening, as he walks towards the bed.
He comes to a stop at the side of the bed, right next to me, and then lowers himself down onto one knee. It is as though time has slowed to the speed of a trickle of molasses as he lifts his hand, his fingers still closed tight around something black and cubical.
“Savannah Santos, love of my life and the other half to make me whole,” he says. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you marry me?”
“YES!” I leap on him, but he’s still kneeling on the floor beside the bed, so I knock him over and then we are both lying on the floor, in each other’s arms, smiling like complete imbeciles.
“A million times yes,” I say, laughing with sheer joy. Cooper gives me a passionate kiss and then, still smiling so brightly that we barely need the lights, he opens the box.
“Don’t you even want to see the ring?” he teases. “It could have a Pop Rock on it for all you know!”
“It could be a candy ring for all I care,” I say. “I would want to marry you anyway.” It’s true—I honestly would not even need a ring to be overjoyed by the thought of being married, for ever and ever, to this amazing man.
But the ring still takes my breath away. It is a dazzling princess-cut diamond that is positively luminescent as it gleams in the light. He slides it onto my finger.
“Oh, Cooper,” I breathe. “It’s so beautiful.”
“It is nowhere near as beautiful or precious as you are,” Cooper says. Then he folds his hands over mine.
“You are mine, Savannah,” he whispers as he leans in to give me another kiss. “You are my future Mrs. Savannah Quin.”
Mrs. Savannah Quin. I really like the sound of that.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cooper - Six more months later...
We have looked at over a hundred houses now, but I am not settling for less than perfect for my perfect wife. And our little one.
I look over at Savannah, who is resting a hand on her beautiful bump—our beautiful baby bump—and glowing with health and beauty in the warm, autumn sun. So much has changed in the past year and I am happier than I could have ever imagined that I would be. I look over to my other side, where Nate is pushing his pimped-out Ferrari of a baby wagon with one arm and has his other arm wrapped around Nikki. Would I have ever guessed that Nate and Nikki, Wolf and Lily, and Savannah and I would ever become a tight-knit group of couple friends, all raising—or soon to be raising—our little ones together?
But I have come to realize that with Savannah, anything is possible. She makes me want to train harder, fight smarter, and be not only even more successful, but an all-around better man. All without saying a word. It’s like somehow her beauty and her warm, giving nature have spread from my personal home life into all aspects of my life, making an already successful career catch fire in such an explosion of success that Vlad and I have had to start a second gym, as partners, where I coach my own select one or two students when I am not training, fighting, giving interviews, or spending time house-hunting for my new family with my wonderful wife.
“Baby, I think this is it,” Savannah says, her face lighting up as she points at the next house on the street. God, that woman is radiant. And she is all mine.
I have been with her for over a year now, and married for several months, but I only find her more entrancing with each passing day. Every moment I spend with her makes me fall more and more in love with her, even though I have long since passed the point where I thought I could not be any more in love with someone. I am deeply grateful for every moment that I spend with her and am even thankful for all of the hardships that I have faced, even being betrayed by Sarah, because they made it possible to be with this one woman who is perfect for me.
“Cooper,” she laughs. “Stop looking at me for a minute and look at the house! You already know what I look like!”
“I do,” I say, smiling. “And I know I like looking.” Good-natured jokes aside, I do take a look at the house. It isn’t the biggest house that we’ve seen, or the fanciest, or the most unique, but there is something that just looks right about it. It just looks homey. I cannot put my finger on what it is, but I like it. “I can see our little boy running down that driveway,” I say, squeezing Savannah to my side.
“Or girl,” she corrects, rubbing her small bump.
“Or girl,” I agree. Savannah smiles back up at me and I kiss the top of her head.
“Helloooooo!” The real estate agent showing the house comes bustling out the front door and down the front steps to wave to us from the head of the driveway. “Come on up!” She is a petite bottle-blond with an enormous bust and hips that don’t quit, and would definitely have been my type before Savannah. But now, she can’t hold a candle to my darling. I am so far from interested, because the only woman I am attracted to anymore these days is my stunning, wonderful Savannah. I give Savannah a kiss on the top of her beautiful head and hug her a little closer. Sometimes I still really can’t believe that a woman so perfect is not only real, but mine.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Savannah
I can hardly believe my good fortune. Here I am, touring this beautiful house with my loving husband, Cooper, and our good friends, Lily, Wolf, Nikki, and Nate. Who would have ever guessed that we would be friends, much less good ones? Or that I would be happily married to the man of my dreams, with our beautiful baby growing in my womb?
I have moments like this, where everything feels unreal in the best possible way, all the time. Sometimes it is when I have a return client come into The Ink Joint, where I am now the head tattoo artist and manager five days a week, to show me the healed final outcome of my work. Sometimes it is when I am lying, curled up against Cooper, on the couch and watching a movie or chatting. Sometimes it is when we take a walk or a jog together, or when we spoon in bed, or when we have wake-up-all-the-neighbors wild sex. Lately, it has often been when we go to the gynecologist or shop for the home of our new and growing family. How did my life turn so far around and become this wonderful, beautiful, impossibly delightful thing?
I can’t resist, as I often I can’t. As soon as the real estate agent disappears into the walk-in closet of yet another bedroom in this house, I stand up on my tip-toes and give Cooper, my husband, a kiss.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“I love it,” I admit. “It’s perfect. But—but it’s way too big for us. What do we need so many rooms and bedrooms and bathrooms for? We will only be three people. We don’t need so much space.”
“We will only be three for a while, that’s true,” Cooper says, a mischievous twinkle in his brilliant blue eyes. “But I am planning on starting my own league of fighters with you.”
“Ha!” I laugh, “I don’t know about that!”
“Oh, really?” he murmurs, swooping me up off of the floor for a passionate kiss. I melt. He still has just as much ability to make me go weak in the knees with just a kiss, or even just a word or a look.
“Mmmhmmhmm.” The real estate agent clears her throat pointedly and Cooper puts me down. I smooth my dress down over my bump and blush, like a high-schooler caught making out under the bleachers. Cooper and I just can’t keep our hands off of each other, even with my pregnancy.
“We’ll take it,” Cooper announces.
“Really?” I squeal, my temporary embarrassment completely forgotten in my excitement.
“Of course
,” Cooper says, bending down for a more chaste kiss this time. “What my wife wants, my wife gets.”
“Excellent!” the real estate agent trills, rocking up onto the toes of her hot pink stilettos. I’ll just go get the paperwork for you guys and we can make this a done deal right now!”
As soon as she is out of the room, Cooper picks me up and carries me over to the bed the decorator set out on display for the showings, pulling my dress up over my head and discarding it carelessly on the floor. “I say we buy this, too,” Cooper says, nodding at the bed before throwing me down on it.
Here we go again. Oh, yes.
Cooper gives me a long, passionate kiss that robs me of my breath and makes my head spin. The he gets up to go lock the bedroom door.
“And now,” he says, coming back over to where I am still lying on the display bed, “I am going to make sweet love to you, my darling.” He leans down over me, then lowers himself down on top of me on the bed. And he does exactly as he says. Sometimes, we have lustful, wild sex and sometimes we make passionate, sweet love to each other. Whatever we do, it is always magical and wonderful and right.
I have been lucky to have had an easy pregnancy so far and aside from the odd cravings, like peanut butter-covered pickles dipped in cookies and cream ice cream. The only real symptom that I have experienced is that I get wet if there is so much as a strong breeze and I am wearing a skirt. Cooper and I have definitely been taking full advantage of my endless horniness and, amazingly perfect husband that he is, he always runs out to the store afterwards to pick up some sardines and chocolate, or ice cream and pickles, or whatever odd foods I am craving at that particular moment.
Cooper trails kisses down my neck, taking one of my stiff nipples gently in his mouth while massaging my sensitive, swollen pregnancy breast with his hand.