Page 35 of Dearest Ronan

Springing on my heels, I throw myself into his arms. Instinctively, my nose buries itself in his neck, inhaling his familiar scent.

“I love you too, Ronan,” I mumble against his skin. I don’t need to look up to know he’s grinning. It’s in his muscles, and in the suffocating bear hug he gives me as he crushes my back.

He spins us around, laughing. “I love you. I love you so much.”

And the very best of all, everyone can see us.

Ronan

two years later

“Ronan, yes!” my wife screams. She jerks her hips. Her needy pussy is always desperate for my cock.

I clench my ass as I roughly drive into her soaking center. The heady scent of her dripping juices drenches my balls and both of our inner thighs. She trembles, but it’s not enough. I want to break my darling Anika apart, only to put her back together again. “Be my good little whore and cum for me, baby,” I demand.

“Fuck, Ronnnnan,” she whines. It’s so hot. She loves when I pound her like an animal.

My balls are already tightening, but I hold my orgasm back. She already came once, but I always make sure she does twice. With my hips thrusting as hard and fast as they’ll go, I put all my weight on my left arm so I can massage her clit.

Whining, she arches her back until her beaded nipples squeeze against my chest. “Pleeease, Ronan. It’s too much.” Her fingernails dig into my back. Anytime she leaves me with physical marks of our passion, it turns me the fuck on until I’m nothing but a wild beast.

A growl slips from my throat as I continue my ruthless conquest over her body. “You’re gonna take my cock until I feel like you’ve had enough. Am I clear, butterfly?” Slipping a hand to her swollen clit, I circle it with just enough pressure to send her over the edge. It’ll only be a few seconds before I rip apart my wife one more time.

“Fuck, Ronan. Oh, God!” Her orgasm floods the palm of my hand, dripping down my wrist, and settling in our sheets. I’m relentless. I’ll only stop when her cunt squeezes my cock so tightly that I’ll worry she has the power to chop it right off.

Anika’s eyes roll to the back of her head. She’s close to passing out. If I want her to feel my warmth seeping into her tight channels, I’ll have to allow myself to release before she loses complete consciousness.

I remove my hand from her delicious pussy, retract my hips, only to move my hands to our barred headboard so I can grip it. My heavy balls tighten closer to my groin just as I use the headboard to slam my exploding cock as far into her cunt as physically impossible. In a loud grunt, my cum shoots into her like a cannon.

I remove my hands from the headboard and brace my forearms to hover over my sweaty, beautiful Anika.

She smiles in a delirious state. “Mmm, that feels so good.”

“I know, baby.” Careful not to hurt her, I lean down and kiss every square inch of her neck and jaw. “I love you,” I whisper. Her eyelashes flutter open.

“I love you too, Ronan.”

Just as I promised two years ago, I tell her how much she means to me every single day. Not even in a mandatory way, but through genuine acts.

Anika is my other half. My coworkers would argue she’s my better half. I agree. She’s the other half of my soul, except she got all the glitter bits. Well, the fact that I got all the oil, and she got all the glitter doesn’t matter. Because together we’re fucking art.

I’ll do anything to make her happy; and she’ll do anything for me. We always listen to each other because we both want the other to be happy. It’s a never-ending circle.

Like on our anniversary, I took her to the beach to recreate when she visited me at work and we ended up underneath the pier. The light in her eyes made every painstaking detailed plan worth it. Then, when we came home, I discovered she’d invited Maury, his girlfriend, and Ma over for some back yard BBQ. She even grilled the steaks!

I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and I’ll spend my last aching breath ensuring her happiness, too.

Back to the present, I frown. “How are you feeling now?” An hour ago Anika was biting her lip, all cute and nervous about our first foster child moving in tomorrow. Naturally, I wanted to help her relax, hence all the orgasms.

Not that sex is a substitute for communication. My therapist taught me that.

“Everything’s fine,” she replies. “Really, it’s just healthy nerves.” I don’t blame her.

Thank fuck Anika and I are on the same page about not making more children for the already overcrowded population. With determination in her gaze, she flips me onto my back andrests her head on my shoulder. “I’m ready to be a parental figure to a kid. Just makes me nervous that I won’t know what that’ll look like beforehand.”

Yesterday Anika and I got a call about an eleven-year-old boy needing foster placement. It’s an enormous commitment, but Anika and I have prepared ourselves the best we can. We’re willing to ‘meet the child we’re they’re at’, a term my therapist instilled in me. It doesn’t mean physically, like meeting the child on Nine Mile Road, but meeting the child emotionally. Since we’re the adults, we’ll adapt to what the child needs, while not expecting the child to conform to our expectations—much how Carolyn and I did to Anika all those years ago.

And oh, yeah, we married at city hall over a year ago for our sixth date.

“Dearest, how areyoufeeling?” She does that sometimes—calls me dearest, much how I call her butterfly. I fucking love it.

“The happiest I’ve ever been.” It’s the absolute truth. I know fostering a child won’t be easy, but I trust my wife completely.

Together, we’ll make mistakes, lean on one another for support, and weave our developing memories together to look back upon when we’re dying togetherThe Notebookstyle.

I am her guardian.

Her husband.

Her Dearest Ronan.