38. June

Chapter thirty-eight

June

P aradise. That's the only word for it. For this life, this love, this fucking miracle I never thought I'd have.

The sun-warmed sand between my toes, the salty breeze whispering over my skin, the crash and hiss of blue-green waves - it still feels like a dream sometimes. A dream I'd happily never wake from.

I close my eyes, let the cacophony of seagulls and distant laughter and my own pounding heart wash over me. Five years. Five goddamn years since my world shattered and rebuilt itself in the span of a courthouse verdict.

Cara's walking towards me now, all golden skin and soft curves, our babbling daughter balanced on one hip. Our son trails behind, scampering through the surf, shrieking with glee every time the foam licks at his heels. The sight of them, of my whole fucking universe contained in three perfect beings, shortens my breath, makes my chest go tight and achy.

"Hey, handsome," Cara murmurs as she reaches me, pressing a salt-tinged kiss to my jaw. "You coming to join us, or just going to brood out here alone all evening?"

I huff out a laugh, wrap an arm around her waist to tug her close. "Not brooding, just...grateful."

She hums, rests her head on my shoulder. "It's a good life, isn't it? Better than I could've imagined, even in my wildest dreams."

A good life. Fuck, even that feels like an understatement. Waking up to Cara's smile every morning, the kids' giggles echoing through the villa. Spending my days lost in a canvas, surrounded by the scent of paint and sea air, exorcising old demons through shape and color. Watching Cara chase her passions, that vibrant spark I fell for all those lifetimes ago in a tiny coffee shop.

It's everything. Every cliched happy ending come to life. And sometimes, in the space between breaths, the enormity of it rocks me to my fucking core.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Cara asks softly, her fingers tangling with mine.

I look down at her, at the question in those storm-grey eyes, and the words spill out like a dam's burst. "I just...I love you. I love this. Love the fucking miracle we've made here. And sometimes, I'm terrified I'll wake up and it'll all be gone. That this beautiful fucking dream will vanish like smoke through my fingers."

She reaches up, cups my face in her palms. Her touch scorches me, scalds me right down to the marrow. It always has. "Hey. Look at me."

I do. I couldn't look away if I tried. Her gaze pins me, steadies me, roots me to the earth like a tether line.

"This is real. You, me, our babies - we fought for this. We bled and we burned and we clawed it from the fucking ashes. And nothing, no one, will ever take it from us again."

My throat goes tight with emotion too big to swallow. "Promise?"

A whisper, a plea, a benediction.

"With everything I have," she vows. Her lips find mine, seal the covenant like a brand against my mouth. I groan, deepen it, pour every desperate scrap of gratitude and wonder and raw fucking love into the slick slide of our tongues.

We're both breathless, trembling, by the time we break apart. My cock's half-hard, straining against my shorts, but I tamp down the pulse of need. Later. Once the kids are asleep, I'll worship her the way she deserves, map every gorgeous fucking inch of her with lips and teeth and reverent hands.

But for now - I let the moment envelop me like honey, thick and golden and sweeter than sin. Our son's war-whooping as he chases the seagulls, kicking up arcs of sea-foam like miniature fireworks.

Our daughter's soft weight in my arms as I scoop her up, pepper her round cheeks with raspberries until she's squealing with delight. The orange-blazing sky and the lullaby of the tides as we meander home, sand in our crevices and salt on our skin, weary and sated from another perfect day in paradise.

The Bahamas sun kisses my skin, hot and sweet as Cara's lips on our wedding night. Can you fucking believe it? Me, June Deveaux, standing on a pristine beach in a monkey suit, watching my girl float down the aisle like something out of a goddamn fairytale.

She's a vision in white, curls whipping in the salty breeze, eyes brighter than the aquamarine sea at our backs. It hits me like a slug to the chest. This is real. This is happening.

Cara Deveaux. My ride-or-die. My warrior queen. The baddest bitch to ever bring a motherfucker to his knees - namely, me, every single time she turns the full force of that gray-eyed gaze my way.

In an hour, she'll be my wife. My whole fucking world, signed, sealed, delivered on a stretch of white Caribbean sand. The road here's been paved in blood and bullets, a twisted tango that nearly broke us more times than I can count. But we made it. We fought, we bled, we burned the powers-that-be to ash - and now?

Now, we're free. Free to be June and Cara. Free to love, laugh, fuck, and fight our way into our very own happily ever after.

Cara reaches me, the train of her gown hissing seductively over the sand. The air leaves my lungs in a rush as my hands engulf hers, palms moist and trembling against my calloused grip. The ugly scars from my captivity, from every hit I've taken so she wouldn't have to, are stark against her porcelain skin. But she doesn't flinch. She never does. Not my girl.

Her fingers anchor me as the officiant starts speaking, the droning consonants bleeding into the roar in my ears. How can I concentrate on the words when Cara's looking at me like that? Like I stole the moon and stars from the sky just for her, like she's picturing all the filthy-perfect things we'll do to each other once that hotel door slams shut.

Baby, if you only knew the half of it.

I'm going to worship every inch of her, map her body like an explorer charting undiscovered country. That sweet pussy's going to be wetter than this damn ocean before I'm through. By the time I finally slide into her tight heat, it'll be like coming home, coming back to life, the final piece of myself clicking into place after a lifetime of drifting.

But first - "I do."

Two words, heavy as a heartbeat as I promise my life, my love, my eternal fucking devotion to this girl, this woman, this fallen angel who holds my entire existence in her elegant, war-calloused hands.

And miracle of miracles, her eyes glittering brighter than the sea at noon...

"I do."

Cara's lips taste like strawberries and salt when she seals our union with a kiss. I don't even try to keep it chaste - my hands cup her face, angling her just right so I can drink her down like a man dying of thirst. Her tongue tangles with mine, teeth nipping just-shy-of-brutal, and I'm rock hard in my slacks. Christ. I need to get her alone, need to bury myself so deep we don't know where she ends and I begin.

She pulls away with a gasp, coral lipstick smeared and eyes a shade darker than they should be in polite company. Her fingers tunnel through my hair, nails scraping my scalp in delicious pinpricks of pain-pleasure. "Steady, tiger," she murmurs, a wicked little grin tugging at her kiss-swollen lips. "Save that animal for the honeymoon suite."

I let out a low growl, hands dropping to squeeze her hips through layers of silk and organza. "Don't worry, baby. I plan to do a helluva lot more than just save it."

The innuendo's shameless, especially with our friends and family whooping and catcalling a scant few feet away - but fuck it. We've never been the types to pull punches. And after everything we've overcome to get here, I'd shout my love - and lust - for this woman from the rooftops of the goddamn world.

Cara's grin widens, eyes sparking with challenge. "Promises, promises."

"Oh, I always keep my promises, sweetheart." I roll my hips, just once, letting her feel exactly how hard I am, how fucking desperate. "Ready to get this party started?"

She shivers, tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. "Lead the way, Daddy."

I nearly bust the zipper on my pants. Daddy. The two syllables turn my blood to lava, make my cock jerk like a livewire against her belly.

It's a promise. A tease. An absolution.

Our little girl won't be so little forever. One day, not too long from now if I have my way, Cara's belly will grow round again, our second child taking root in her body. I'll be Daddy for real, for keeps.

But tonight...tonight, it's just us. Just June and Cara, man and wife. Two broken, battered creatures reborn in the flames, rising from the ashes of the past to claim a future so bright it hurts to look at head-on.

I tighten my grip on her hips, steer us away from the revelry and towards the little beachside villa waiting for us. The door's barely shut before I'm on her, tongue plundering the wet silk of her mouth, hands everywhere at once. I want to rip this fucking dress off her, bury my face between her thighs until she's writhing, mewling, until my name's the only word she remembers.

Cara arches into me, breasts flattening against my chest. I can feel her nipples, diamond-hard through the bodice, and I groan into her mouth, hands sliding down to cup the sweet curve of her ass. She gasps as I tear my lips from hers, blazing a trail down the ivory column of her neck.

"June." It's more than my name, more than a moan - it's a benediction, a broken hallelujah. I've never heard anything so goddamn beautiful.

"That's it, baby," I rasp against her pulse point, teeth scraping the delicate skin. "Let me hear you. I wanna hear all those pretty sounds."

I hoist her up, hands cupping the backs of her thighs, and she winds her legs around my hips with a throaty little laugh. My Cara - always ready for anything, always eager to meet me play for play and then some.

I stagger towards the bed, balance thrown by the way she's writhing against me, a goddess made flesh and flames. We hit the mattress in a tangle of limbs, the air punching from my lungs as her sweet weight settles over me.

She straddles my hips, hands braced on my chest, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "You're wearing too many clothes, Mr. Deveaux."

"So are you, Mrs. Deveaux." My heart kicks like a mule behind my ribs. Mrs. Deveaux. My wife. Mine. Forever and always.

Her grin turns positively feline. "Better fix that then, hmm?"

Her hands strip me with ruthless efficiency - tie first, then shirt, the tiny buttons scattering like pearls across the floor. She maps my chest with her mouth, tongue swirling the ink, the scars. Every touch is a brand, a claiming. I'm hers. Body, heart, and motherfucking soul.

"Cara." It's a prayer, a curse, torn from my throat. "Please, baby-"

She takes pity on me, those clever fingers popping the button on my slacks, dragging down my zipper with agonizing slowness. My cock springs free, flushed and throbbing, precome beading the swollen head. Her pupils eclipse the storm-grey of her irises, chest heaving as she wriggles down my body.

"Fuck, I love your cock," she breathes, hot little puffs of air against my aching shaft. "So big. So hard. All for me."

"All for you," I confirm, voice a low, desperate rumble. "Only ever for you, Cara."

She makes an approving noise, tracing the thick vein on the underside with the tip of her tongue. I nearly levitate off the bed, hands fisting in the sheets until I hear stitches pop. She licks and sucks and teases until I'm a wordless, writhing wreck beneath her.

"Please," I pant, hips pumping helplessly. "Baby, I'm gonna - gonna come if you keep-"

She pulls off with an obscene pop, lips swollen and glossy. "Oh, we can't have that," she purrs. "Not yet. I've got plans for this gorgeous cock."

I make a sound like I'm dying, hands leaving the sheets to scrabble at her dress. "Off. Now." I barely recognize my voice, wrecked and gravelly with need.

Cara rises up on her knees, a goddess surveying her supplicant. Then, locking eyes with me, she starts to undress.

The gown whispers to the floor, a fall of frothy lace and tulle. What lies beneath steals my breath, kicks the legs out from under every filthy fantasy I've ever had.

White lace, stark against golden skin. A barely-there bra that pushes her tits up like an offering, rosy nipples straining against the delicate cups. Matching panties, riding low on her hips, the damp patch at the apex irrefutable proof that she's as affected as I am.

"Cara." Her name is ashes on my tongue, holy as a hymn. "Baby. Come here."

She does, sinking down until she's straddling my face. I catch a glimpse of soaked lace, inhale the familiar musk of her arousal - and then my mouth is on her, hot and hungry through the barrier of her panties.

She cries out, hands flying to my hair as she grinds against my face. I tongue her slit, suckle her swollen clit, until the fabric's a ruin and she's riding my mouth in earnest, broken pleas and garbled praises pouring from her lips.

"June," she gasps, thighs trembling. "Oh fuck, June, yes - just like that, fuck-"

I slide a finger under the lace, press into her clenching heat without warning. She bucks against me, a high, thready keen tearing from her chest. I add a second, a third, pumping and curling as I open my throat and drink her down, an addict finally getting his fix.

She shatters with a raw scream, gushing over my chin as she convulses around my fingers. I work her through it, easing her down gently from the high, until her grip on my hair turns slack and sated.

"C'mere," I rasp, slipping out from under her to crawl up the bed. "Need to be inside you. Now."

Cara hums, rolling onto her back and crooking a finger. An invitation - a dare. "Come and get it, tiger."

And fuck if I don't rise to that challenge every single time.

I strip her soaked panties off, toss them towards the hamper in the corner. I'll find them later, stuff them into my luggage as a souvenir of our wedding night. For now, I've got more pressing concerns - like sinking balls-deep into my wife's perfect, pink pussy.

I notch the head of my cock against her entrance, gritting my teeth against the urge to surge forward and claim. Want to make it last, want to make it so fucking good.

"Please," Cara mewls, heels digging into my ass. "June, baby, I need you."

I press a kiss to her forehead, the tip of her nose, those pouty lips still swollen from sucking me off. "I've got you," I promise, my voice a low, soothing rumble. "I've always got you, Cara."

And then I'm sliding forward, sheathing myself in tight, wet heat. Home. She's a fist around my cock, silken walls gripping me like a vise as I bottom out. For a moment, I can't breathe, can't think past the feeling of her surrounding me, accepting every thick inch.

"Fuck," Cara whimpers, nails scoring my shoulders. "So big. Filling me up so good."

I drop my forehead to hers, hips starting a slow, deep grind. "Never gonna stop," I tell her, punctuating each word with a thrust. "Never gonna stop fillin' this sweet cunt. Gonna plug you up, keep you full, fuckin' overflowing..."

She moans, back arching as she meets me thrust for thrust. It's everything - the drag of her velvet heat, the salt-damp slip of our skin, the broken music of her cries. Pleasure builds at the base of my spine, white-hot and blinding. Close. Too fucking close-

Cara must sense it, must feel me thickening inside her. She clenches down, aims her lips right at my ear and hisses, "Don't you dare come before me."

Fuck. Challenge accepted, baby girl.

I hike her thigh higher on my hip, changing the angle until I'm hitting that spot. You know the one - that soft, spongy little patch that makes her pupils blow wide and her toes curl. Cara's mouth falls open on a silent scream, head thrashing against the pillow as I pound into her, chasing her pleasure with single-minded focus.

"That's it," I grit out, sweat and sex slicking my skin. "Gonna fuckin' ruin you. Want you to come on my cock, want you spilling all over me-"

Her orgasm hits like a earthquake, a tsunami, pleasure crashing over both of us in drowning waves. I feel it in every clench and flutter, her pussy rippling around me as she keens out my name.

It's too much. Too intense. Too everything. I bury my face in the crook of her neck and let go, hips stuttering as I shoot deep inside her. Spurting, flooding, branding her womb with my cum.

Mine. My wife. My love. My Fucking Everything.

Cara holds me as I shake apart, fingers carding through my sweat-soaked hair, lips brushing my temple. "I love you," she whispers, voice raw and wrecked in the best possible way. "I love you so goddamn much, June Deveaux."

I lift my head, catch her mouth in a kiss that's salty-sweet and lush with promise. "Love you too, Mrs. Deveaux," I murmur against her lips. "Always, only, ever yours."

We drift off like that, bodies entwined, hearts beating in tandem. And in the warm cocoon of her arms, with our future stretching out before us like an uncharted sea - I know.

This is it. This is fucking everything. The happy ending we clawed from the ashes, the paradise we carved out of perdition. June and Cara, against the world...and winning. Every single fucking time.

So let the credits roll. Let the screen fade to black. Because our story?

Baby - it's only just begun.