"Did you finish?"
He shakes his head. "I waited so I could come inside you. But we don't have to."
"I want to!"
"You're crying," he says, brow furrowed in worry.
"It's not what you think. It's like I'm high or something. But better."
"I'll wait until you're done crying, though, if it's all the same to you," he says, petting my hair. He's as good as his word. He won't do a single thing more until I finish my stupid unexplained bout of tears.
When that's over, Jet rolls me onto my back, throws my legs over his shoulders, and has his protection on in a matter of seconds. His thick cock is buried to the hilt. This time, the rhythm is a slow, deliberate, delicious torture. I can feel every bump and ridge moving all the way in as deep as he can go and pulling out again.
While he does this, his mouth makes love to my breasts. "You are the perfect handful, and so soft. And your nipples…"
"Are huge and weird," I say.
"But look," he says, sucking one into his mouth. "The perfect size, just for me. Thank you for this," he says. As if he needs to thank me for ruining every inch of my body.
Absolutely ruined.
I honestly believe this to be true until I realize just how pent-up this man has been while serving our country. Because when he finishes, he's never far from reaching for me again. We spend the rest of our day together talking, cuddling, fucking, cuddle-fucking. At one point he bends me over the little kitchen table with one finger in my butt. There's truly nothing this boy doesn't love when it comes to the bedroom.
Most importantly, there's nothing this boy loves more than me, or himself with me.
It's enough to convince me he loves me for more than my body.
It's a good thing, too. Because if he's deployed again, I'm going to need all the assurances I can handle.
Chapter Seventeen
One year later
Jet
I hate that I'm gonna miss the Butter Queen pageant this year. I don't hate that I'm not a judge this time, but I just know this time, my girl is gonna win that title.
She has to. Rocket is 24 years old now. It's her last chance, and she's been practicing her heart out.
What she doesn't know, though, is I'm missing out on her big day not because my flight got delayed. It's true what I told her: that my annual training as a reservist took me overseas for a humanitarian mission. But today, I have a secret surprise in the works.
It took everything in me to not skip out on my big secret plan, head straight to the pageant, and not carry her off like a caveman before she could claim her crown.
The title means a lot to her, so I can't do that. And my secret project means so much for our future that doing what my body and lizard brain wants is a really bad idea.
The bank has scheduled my closing date on the same day as the pageant. I couldn't set the date earlier because of other people's scheduling conflicts combined with how long it took for my trip back here.
After I pick up the ring I ordered from the artisan jewelry maker downtown, I hit the bank and the lawyer's office, and everything goes fairly smoothly.
If I hurry, I can make it to the fairgrounds before they announce the winner.
On the way to the fairgrounds, once again behind the wheel of my beautiful Betty, I imagine all the things I wanna do to my girl when I see her. I'm gonna bury my face in her hair, taste her neck, and feel her laugh against me. It's only been a few weeks but my god, I've been missing her laugh. I'm going to hold her so tight my rod might rip a hole right through her evening gown.
If she accepts my offer, I'm looking at a lifetime of falling asleep holding on to that ridiculously perfect woman every single night.
I call her one last time to make sure she's in the right state of mind because if I know my girl, I know she could use a pep talk.
It's also a good enough excuse to hear her voice. Every time I've talked to her over the phone, even at great distances, her voice is like warm honey covering my soul, filling in the cracks, and smoothing over all my rough edges.
She asks almost nothing of me. She has this annoying habit of never asking for favors, never complaining about anything more than missing me when I have to report to training.
She's so goddang independent it's truly aggravating sometimes.
Today, she's going to finally understand the lengths to which I will go to to make sure she knows she can depend on me.
I have it all planned out.
Chapter Eighteen
Rocket
This is it, this my last chance to win it.
I'm standing on the stage at the state fair for the final time, vying for the title I've been coveting since the age of 18.
Now that I'm 24, this is the last year I'll get the chance. Next year I'll be 25, and I'll have aged out.
I hate that I'm going through all of this and he won't be here to see it, as his flight home from training has been delayed.
My voice is smaller than I intended it to sound when he calls. I do my best to sound strong for him because I don't want him to worry. "I'm doing okay."
"Don't even try that out on me, I know you. You're fighting your negative self-talk again. You tell that voice to go fuck itself because you are the prettiest, coolest, most badass fire twirler that ridiculous pageant has ever seen. Damn, girl, you don't even have to worry about that Paris witch trying to fuck things up for you or anyone else this year. Didn't you tell me she's been banned from all forms of pageants and now she
