Epilogue

Everything, Lifehouse

Two years later

Roe

“Hurry up, amor, the wedding is going to start in an hour,” I hear Saint shout from the other side of the door.

We had a race today that I couldn’t miss. Once you’re the reigning champion of a class, especially a class mostly run by men, you go to every event they invite you to. Even if it means changing clothes in a tiny bathroom by the racetrack.

Two years ago, Saint and I raced neck to neck on the AA hare scramble classifiers, and I won by two seconds. Two seconds. That’s how much faster I went than him. We both made it to regionals but didn’t make it to nationals. Last year, I took the title in both. Saint dropped out of regionals, not because of will, but because of an injury. Old man couldn’t keep up.

The whole Marco situation shook the organization. People didn’t realize how many riders felt the same way as he did about women racing in men’s classes. His case made it to court after we both pressed charges, but instead of being sent to prison, Marco pleaded insanity and was sent to an inpatient institution. His parents took him somewhere outside of Florida for this. They sent letters and emails apologizing for their son – or so Saint has said, because I couldn’t care less what any of them have to say. As long as he’s out of my life forever, I don’t care. I hope he gets the help he needs and if he doesn’t, that he stays locked up forever. The one positive thing that came out of it was the awareness and the protection needed to make this a healthy environment for girls.

Today, SMX ran an event for girls who wanted to race in the boys’ class. We had a group of ten girls, little Emma being one of them, ready to show everyone that they were capable of winning both the girls and the boys class. Saint, of course, was by my side, holding my bike like he has since he stepped out of racing. Even though today we have our friends’ wedding, he still stood there, supporting me.

Allie and Jake have been planning this wedding for months and we wouldn’t miss it for the world, even if it means arriving late. But we might be late because when I open the bathroom door, Saint’s eyes find mine with pure fire behind his gaze.

“Damn, princesa,” he growls as he scans my body. I’m wearing a red strapless dress with the biggest cleavage you could imagine. It frames my body before flaring open. I drag my hand up my leg, showing him how much the slit on the skirt shows and he licks his lips.

“Are you trying to kill me here?” he asks.

I roam my hands all over my body while I tease, “You like?”

He steps into the small bathroom, closes the door with his foot, and grabs me in his arms. No matter how many times this man has seen me naked, he’s never satisfied. He can’t keep his hands to himself and he sure as hell makes sure I know how he feels about me and my body.

He presses me against the sink and brings his hands under the skirt, skimming my thighs all the way to my ass. When he finds that I’m wearing a thong, he hisses.

“We don’t have time, Saint,” I say, letting out a whimper when his mouth finds my neck and he bites.

“We’ll make time. You look like a whole damn meal, and I’m a starving man, mu?eca. I’m ready to feast.” Unhinged Saint is my favorite, and through the years he has allowed himself to chase what he wants. He has allowed himself to put his desires first, and I’m here for it.

“I’m yours to do as you please, just make it quick,” I say and that’s all the permission he needs.

His hands are frantic. Pulling my underwear down and touching me everywhere, he yanks them over my shoes and sticks them in the pocket of his suit. “For later,” he says, winking before his lips are on my neck again. Licking, biting, nipping. I let out a moan and he covers my mouth with his hand. “Shh, someone’s going to hear us. Can you be quiet for me, princesa?” His eyes flare with lust and it’s all I need to know that I will be very happy if I can just comply with his one request, so I nod.

His mouth goes back to my skin, blazing a fire across my neck, leaving a trail of sensations. Biting, sucking, and kissing to alleviate the sting. Staying quiet will be more challenging than the fucking race . He cups my breast, lowering the top of my dress to expose a nipple, and his mouth sucks over it. His other fingers work the other one and twist the hard bud in between his index and thumb with the rhythm of his flicking tongue, making me see stars.

I’m grinding on him over his dress pants. Even though he’s fully clothed, his hard dick presses against my center, teasing me, unraveling me. I pull his hair while I continue to grind on him, and he takes that as permission to go rougher. Saint bites my nipple while pinching the other one. Just when I think I can’t feel more pressure, he takes his free hand and slides two fingers into my already-drenched pussy.

“Fuck, Roe, you’re so wet. So tight,” he groans with his mouth still close to my sensitive nipple.

“Always for you. Always wet for you,” I say, gasping for air as he lowers the rest of my dress, making my breasts spill out from the top without apologizing.

He leans back slightly, just enough to take me in. His eyes flash with a dangerous lust as he murmurs, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, amor.” I never get enough of this.

He brings his mouth back to my nipple, not stopping his hand from pumping in and out of me. My back curves against him, pulling his hair and pressing my breast into his mouth to find my balance and ride his fingers. He hooks his fingers, sliding another one in and I’m about to see stars. He looks up at me with a cocky smirk on his face, watching me catch my breath, because all this man does is leave me breathless. No matter how many times we fuck, he manages to make me feel more each time.

He curves his fingers, dropping his other hand under my ass and squeezing, helping me move up and down. I can ’ t take this much longer. My breathing is heavy; my hands claw at his back as he continues to drive me wild with his tongue and his hands. He takes his fingers out with one quick swoop, but before I can complain about feeling empty, he turns me around. Ass up, face practically hitting the sink.

Before I can ask what he’s doing, he slides his fingers back in, making me feel deliciously full again. His thumb is rubbing my clit while his other fingers tease me mercilessly. I hear him spit and shortly after he says, “Breathe for me, princesa.”

I take a deep breath in as he slides his finger into my ass, gently rubbing the puckered hole before pushing it in, little by little.

I hiss, and he drops a kiss on my ass cheek, before biting and kissing it again. Pumping his fingers in and out of both places. This is too much. I know I’m going to scream soon if he doesn’t make me come, or maybe even when he does make me come.

“Saint,” I whisper.

“Stop holding on, Roe. Give it to me,” he commands at the same time that he curves his fingers and bites my ass.

“Now,” he demands and that’s all it takes for me to let go and pulse against both his hands. This is euphoric; I can feel it everywhere. My skin is covered in goosebumps; my pussy and ass clenching against his fingers. I drop my head onto the sink and bite on my arm because it’s either that or I’m going to scream, and we really don’t want that.

When I’m finally done, spent and sated, he turns me around to face him as he licks the three fingers covered in my arousal like a caveman, and shit was that the hottest thing I have ever experienced. Even after two years with this man, he still finds ways to keep me on my toes. He licks his lips, and then kisses me, pulling my dress up and smacking my ass.

“We have places to be, princesa, let’s go.”

Allie and Jake’s wedding is beautiful. The tree canopies surrounding the arbor with the lake shine as the backdrop. Family and friends are sitting in their own chairs. Allie had petitioned for all her friends to bring them; a group of mismatched chairs, she said. Cara’s currently sobbing while she stands with her flowers listening to her best friend say the sweetest vows I’ve ever heard. I’m not very emotional but these might make it to the cry count of the year.

After the ceremony, the reception is hosted in a ballroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake George. The sun starts setting, lighting the room with soft orange hues. Their first dance is like a fairytale. The couple is surrounded by the warm tones from the sun and ‘To Make You Feel My Love’ by Adele is playing softly while they sway around, looking happier than ever.

Saint wraps his arms around me, kissing me on my cheek and pulling me toward him so my back is resting on his chest.

“Are you sad that won’t be us one day?” I ask. We’ve talked about not needing a wedding, and even though his mom wanted to kill me when she found out her only son wasn’t getting married, it’s never been something I wanted to do. Yes, now I have friends that are like family in my life, but it doesn’t negate the fact that my side of the room would be empty. I don’t want to do that, and Saint understands and is okay with that. We moved in together after the whole Marco fiasco and we’re happy the way we live, but sometimes I wonder if maybe he’s compliant to keep me happy.

“No, amor. I can dance with you any day of the week. I don’t need an audience to know how I feel about you and to know that you love me.” He kisses my forehead again and lowers his mouth to my ear. I can feel his warm breath before he says, “I love what we have, Roe. No need to do something just because others do it. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy too. All I need is you. Everything else is negotiable.”

I turn my face slightly, catching his lips on mine and kissing him gently. “I love you, Santiago,” I say and he smiles against my lips.

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing those words out of your lips, princesa.”

“Good,” I reply, “because I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon.

“I also won’t get tired of looking at these beauties,” I add, touching his arm, the one that’s full of beautiful butterfly tattoos that he made me do on him after a year of being together. He said there was no anniversary gift or anything like that, but he wanted something permanent. Something that reminded him that when you think life will be over, it can transform again, like a butterfly. He told me how much he loved that I had so many on my arms even without knowing that meaning because deep down I knew, I could love again. I could live again. So now, our matching butterflies remind me, more than him I’m sure, how beautiful life can be after you’ve been in a shell for so long. Or a cocoon, if we want to be technical.

“These are my favorite tattoos,” he says.

“Nah, I think the cityscape on your back is bad ass.”

He laughs and grabs my hand and pulls me to the dance floor at the same time that the DJ announces that all couples should join Allie & Jake, to celebrate with them. We all slow dance to a song about endless love while the DJ calls out years together. First, he calls out six months. If you ’ ve been together for six months, step out. Then he moves on to one year and two years. Saint and I step out during this time, and this goes on and on until Allie’s grandparents are the last one dancing with fifty years together. Impressive.

I never thought being together with someone for fifty years was a goal I’d have, but after being with Saint for two, I don’t think a hundred years will be enough. I don’t think a lifetime will be enough to be with him. I feel sorry for the people that don’t get to experience this kind of high and I’m so fucking thankful he never gave up on me when I pushed him away. Because these last two years? They have healed every single part of me that needed mending. Every part of me that needed saving.

“Are you okay, amor?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear and pulling me flush to him.

I inhale his salty, breezy scent, find the spot where I belong right next to his heart and say, “Never better.”