Epilogue

Epilogue

A nother five years later

Jane

Three beefy judges have their hands all over my pumpkin.

Who knew I could grow something so heavy for the annual harvest festival that it would take three men to lift it onto the scale?

Whether I win or lose the pumpkin growing contest doesn’t matter. The sun is shining, the leaves in the countryside are exploding in autumn colors, and I’ve got my friends and family around me.

While Henry and I wait on the judges, our youngest, Dawson, now four and a half, plays in the corn pit with his favorite people: Jordan, 9, Pippen, 8, and Rodman, 7. The trio’s dad, Jet, keeps an eye on the corn pit mayhem. Sarah, 11, and Raya, 8, are just now arriving to watch the pumpkin judging, along with their Aunt Rocket. All three of them carry bags full of gifts and crafts from the artisan bazaar tent.

Sarah waves and lags behind as Raya runs up to me, her wispy little space buns bouncing. “I got you a present!” She presents me with a handmade Christmas ornament from the wood-burning booth. On the little circle of wood is burned a line drawing of her current animal obsession, an axolotl.

“I love it, baby. Thank you,” I say, kissing her on the forehead.

As we wait patiently for the judges to carry out their duties, I look around and smile. Our little downtown has grown, and so has our harvest festival. People are lined up for caramel apples, pumpkin painting, and rides on the haywagon. The air is scented with wood smoke and cider donuts. All is right with the world.

The festival has caught the attention of many city folks this year, and as such, my Henry has caught the attention of a group of fashionably dressed middle-aged women who are growing tipsier by the hour at the nearby beer tent.

They’ve wandered over to the pumpkin contest, ogling the man who, I have to admit, looks like a hero in a rom-com—complete with flannel, jeans, and henley. The sweet silver band on his ring finger gleams in the sunlight but doesn’t stop the women from staring and giggling.

I still get such a thrill when I see it on his finger, and I am reminded that he belongs to me. They can stare and cackle, but he’s going home with me.

I’m so very lucky.

I sip my pumpkin spice latte as I watch the judges struggle with my pumpkin. I’m not allowed to help because of contest rules.

My best friend, Rocket, nudges me. “You’re killing it, sweetie!”

The cinnamon and nutmeg warm my belly. “I did my best, and that’s all that matters. Besides, I think my husband’s is actually bigger in circumference.”

Rocket snorts and covers her mouth.

I roll my eyes and blush, gently hip-checking my pervy friend. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

She laughs. “I never know with you. The quiet ones are the freakiest.”

Rocket’s not wrong about that. She and her husband, Jet, are outgoing exhibitionists. They are constantly all over each other in public. And they’re the sweetest people I know. Honestly, couple goals.

Henry and I are more reserved.

But when I get my husband home after a long day at the farm, I can tell you he’s like another person. He’s an animal. Just thinking of the things he’s done to me makes me shiver.

“I can’t watch this anymore,” Henry says. He leaves his giant pumpkin and goes up to the judges.

“I’m sorry, Henry,” the head judge says. “Contestants are not allowed to assist with the competition.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” my husband scoffs.

Henry’s cousin Buck Wood, who drove all the way from Fate to help transport the giant pumpkins to the festival, strides up. “I got you, cousin.”

With Buck’s help, the judges carefully heave my pumpkin onto the scale.

They write down numbers, do some calculations, then retire to a side tent to confer on the matter.

“Oh, come on. How tough can it be to do a little math?” Henry mutters.

Uh oh. Someone is jealous, and aggro as a jaybird today.

I shift my eyes toward the man whose biceps are bursting out of that flannel. “It’s fine. Yours is probably going to beat mine.”

I know he feels some kind of way after teaching me all the ins and outs of growing pumpkins. He’s probably steaming now that I’ve gotten so good at it that I’ve beaten him at his own game two years in a row.

Finally, the judges make their decision.

“Third prize goes to Haley Benitez, whose pumpkin came in at 400 pounds!” The 12-year-old 4-H overachiever proudly receives her yellow ribbon.

The judges announce a name I don’t recognize as the second-place winner—someone from out of state who drove his pumpkin with three helpers in the back of his pickup to stabilize it for the three-hour journey. Some people will do anything for a ribbon. And me? I receive the first-place blue ribbon.

“Weighing in at 900 pounds, Jane is this year’s winner!”

The crowd cheers. Rocket whoops and hugs me.

The head judge, George, strides over and pumps our hands. He holds the trophy with me for a photo op, with his hand on my back in a friendly side-hug.

I look over at Henry as the judge pins the ribbon on me.

He is seething.

It takes the judge forever to work the pin in place.

Finally, Henry steps in. “I got it,” he says brusquely.

“Well, if you insist.”

“I do. Now scram.”

George shrugs and moves on to judge the pie-eating contest.

“What the heck is wrong with you?” I ask.

I look around self-consciously, worried that everyone will overhear Henry and me having an argument in public. Jet, Rocket, Buck, and Buck’s wife, Grace, all congratulate me before clearing out. We all agree to meet back up at the house later for dinner. After a quick, “see you later,” Jet lures Dawson and the rest of the boys out of the corn pit with the promise of funnel cakes. Sarah and Raya are not far behind them. Thankfully, our daughters have their own spending money, or else Rocket and Jet would spoil them rotten. Buck, Grace, and their family head toward the carnival rides.

“I don’t like that guy,” Henry growls.

I turn back to face my husband. “Who? Your cousin Buck?”

“No!”

I knew that’s not who he meant. He meant the judge.

“George? He’s harmless!”

“I don’t like the way he had his hands on you.”

His eyes are black and his jaw is tight. He’s either really, really mad or…oh, wait…

“Are you jealous?”

He stares at me momentarily, and I see it all clearly now. The way his nostrils flare. The way his cords stand out in his neck. I put my hand over his heart, and it’s beating wildly.

I cannot help the crazy smile that takes over my face. “Oooh.”

“Jane. It’s not funny. If you knew how I felt when that guy looked at you. Smelled you. Touched you.”

I laugh. “Smelled me? Are you serious?”

“I gotta get out of here.”

“You’re acting crazy. You can’t leave me here at the fair.”

“Who said I was leaving? You think I’m gonna leave you here with him?” He gestures wildly in the direction of the pie-eating contest.

I gesture equally crazily at the beer tent.

“You think I’m gonna let you out of my sight with the Real Housewives of Des Moines hanging around, staring at your ass?”

He crinkles his forehead. “The who and the what now?”

I cross my arms. “I guess we don’t trust each other.”

“Of course I trust you. I’m just…pissed.”

I step close to him, my face near the spot where I love to kiss him the most. I press my lips, where his neck meets his shoulder, and tug aside the henley he wears under his flannel.

He growls when my lips brush over his tight muscles there.

“You can take it all out on me tonight, baby. After the guests leave and kids go to bed.”

The low sound in his chest makes me shiver just like it did the first time we slept together, and I crave more. I need all of him right now.

He grits out, “I can’t wait that long. Besides, those girls are light sleepers these days.”

I blink up at him. “What do you propose we do about that?”

I wait for his answer.

Henry

I can’t remember the last time Jane and I crawled into the back seat of my truck to mess around.

It’s been years since we sneaked off to do the nasty in the middle of the day, and it’s high time we made it happen.

Thank god for tinted windows and an extended cab.

“Here? Now?” Jane breathes between kisses as I hitch up the hem of her tee-shirt, palming her warm, soft stomach.

“It’s been too long,” I growl, sealing my mouth to hers, letting my hand drift upward to cup one of her breasts. Everything about my wife has grown softer and rounder over the past five years, and more delicious. I can’t get enough of her, and I need to get her naked right the hell now.

She pushes back at my chest and says frantically, “What about the kids?”

I’ve already taken care of that. After we were married, I adopted Sarah as my own. Later, Raya and Dawson came along. We’ve been extra busy raising a family and working the farm. But I always try to make sure Jane gets time to herself.

But now, I need to be selfish with her alone time. “Jet already texted me,” I say, nuzzling Jane’s neck where she likes it. “He and Rocket are keeping the kids with them until we all meet up for dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” she says, and I’m unsure if that’s a moan or a statement.

She sucks in a breath when I run my thumb over one hard nipple through the fabric of her bra. “But…but…”

Growling, I hitch up her top all the way to her neck and lift one pretty breast out of its satin cage. I take her nipple and half her breast into my mouth. Her tenseness softens under me.

She is the sweetest, warmest, sexiest thing—and she’s mine.

Mine to touch and play with and make desperate with need.

To that end, I let her wet nipple slip from my mouth. I blow on it, watching it pucker in response.

Her nails dig into my shoulders.

Jane’s mouth gapes as I undo her jeans and slip my hand down the front of her panties. After five years, I know how to get between her legs fast. Her pretty eyes glaze over with hunger the second my middle finger slips between her slick folds.

I move over her until she’s flat on her back under me, my finger two knuckles deep into her hot hole.

Jane whimpers as I move in and out of her, thumbing her clit.

“I thought you were upset that I won the pumpkin growing contest…again.”

I lay one heated, wet kiss on her mouth, spearing my tongue in and reveling in her moan.

“Jealous of you? Fuck that. I’m so damn proud of you. You’re my wife. Everyone in town is jealous of me. You’re the best thing in my life, Jane.”

Jane’s eyes well up as I continue heaping praise on her. But I’m not done.

“Henry…”

Her hands go to my head, her nails softly scraping through my short-cropped hair. When she does this, I know exactly what she needs. And I’m about to give it to her.

“You’re the best person I know, Janey-cakes.”

My fingers strum her hard button once more, and she comes with a shout, her body curling up off the seat. Her sweet pussy pulsates in her release.

“There she is. Let that pretty pussy keep coming, baby.”

“Henry.” She squeaks at a decibel only dogs can hear. Pretty sure I hear some coyotes in the distance respond to it.

Maneuvering in the truck’s back seat is tough, but I roll her jeans all the way down to her ankles with a little help from her. I just gotta taste her while she’s coming. Her sweet honey is too good to miss, even when we’re having an afternoon quickie.

I lick over her pretty folds and open them with my thumbs. Her warm cunt still quivers in her release when I spear my tongue inside.

My wife makes an animal noise as she arcs her lower body upward while pressing the back of my head.

“Harder…harder!”

How could I be anything but obedient to such a woman? I let loose on her, splitting her open with my face, my tongue, my chin—everything I can use to absolutely wreck her until she’s numb.

“Yes, Henry. Oh my god…oh my god!”

“That’s my good girl…my good girl.”

I know exactly how to prolong her orgasm, and I’m thrilled when she leaks all over my face.

When she’s finished, I flip her over, positioning her until she’s on her knees. Jane’s cheek rests on the seat, and I hold her down with my thumb on her jaw and two fingers hooked inside her mouth.

She looks back at me and blinks slowly.

“How did I get so damn lucky?” I ask, quickly unzipping my jeans and shoving down my drawers. The tip of my cock is wedged between the waistband of my boxer briefs and my abdomen, already seeping.

I tug down my drawers and hold my cock in my hand.

Jane feels it and pushes back. In response, I rub the tip over her pretty ass.

Every moment with Jane is pure pleasure, but stolen moments like this add a layer of spice to our lives. She is everything good and pure in this world and everything I need.

Leaning over her, I blanket her back with my chest, pressing my cock inside her heated entrance.

Her fingers curl around the edge of the seat as I find my rhythm, filling her with everything I have. Those fingers are not as soft as they were when I met her. They’ve grown slightly rougher from long days working by my side in the field, tending animals, and working on projects with me around the farm.

If it were up to me, she wouldn’t have to lift a finger, but Jane insists on helping. Her hands are still beautiful, even more so in some ways.

“After today, I’m going to insist that you take some time off, Jane.”

She moans as she grips my cock with her softness. “Wh-what?”

I slip my fingers out of her mouth and hold onto her soft ponytail.

“I’m serious. Now that the pumpkin harvest is finished, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” she breathes. “Oh god…that feels good.”

I bite back a groan as I push in and pull out.

“You’re the finest. But I’m still sending you away for a long weekend…fuck, you feel good… A spa…with…shit, you’re such a good girl…a spa with mud baths and whatnot…”

She giggles. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’ll talk to Jet. Maybe we can send you and Rocket somewhere nice together and take the kids camping.”

She trembles on my dick. “Henry!”

I slip my fingers back into her gaping mouth.

“That’s it, suck on ’em. You’re such a good girl, Jane…so good…fuck, I’m coming…”

When I was a single man, I never knew sex could be this good.

I never thought I would ever be this in sync with a woman.

With my lips pressed against her shoulder, I roar out my orgasm, pumping into her, filling her. She drools on my fingers, which only heightens everything I’m feeling.

I fill her so full that my spend drips down between her thighs.

She’s beginning to give out.

Sensing this, I lay her down on her stomach and cover her like a blanket, with one knee on the floor so I don’t crush her with my full weight.

I cover with kisses every spot of her throat, her face that I can reach from this position. I keep kissing her until her trembling stops.

I release my fingers from her mouth for a final time, and she exhales a satisfied laugh.

“You’re crazy.”

“Too crazy?”

She shakes her head. “No, that was fun.”

I hug her tight from behind and tease her. “Just know that every time you beat me at the pumpkin growing contest, this is what you’ll have to put up with, Jane.”

She pushes back against me.

“I’ll take whatever you can dish out,” she sighs. “Your gourd always comes out on top in my book.”

I laugh into her hair and tickle her until she shrieks for me to stop.

“Let’s go get some funnel cakes. Winner buys,” I say.

My wife looks back at me over her shoulder with that same smile that has been knocking me off my feet for five years. When we’re both old and gray and covered in wrinkles, she’ll still be knocking me on my ass.

She says, “It’s a date.”

THE END