Page 12 of Stuffed

My control shatters. Hoisting her leg higher on my hip, I pound into her, the force of my thrusts rocking the bed. The wet slap of flesh, our harsh breaths and moans of pleasure fill the room. Tension coils tighter and tighter at the base of my spine as I chase my release.

"Come with me, Claire," I command hoarsely, grinding against her clit. "Milk my cock, let me feel you come undone."

Her walls clench around me in fluttering pulses as she cries out, her climax crashing over her. The rapturous sight of her pleasure, the satin heat rippling along my shaft, sends me hurtling into ecstasy. With a guttural shout, I bury myself to the hilt and erupt, painting her womb with thick ropes of my seed.

I collapse on top of her, both of us gasping for breath, sweat-slicked skin sliding deliciously. Claire's fingers delve into my hair, scratching lightly at my scalp as I press open-mouthed kisses to her neck, her jaw, the corner of her lush mouth.

"I love you," I rasp, still buried deep within her, reluctant to ever withdraw from her sweet heat. "I want to build a life with you, Claire. Grow old with you. Keep you barefoot and pregnant."

She cups my face, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I want that too, Jax. More than I've ever wanted anything, but it’s all so fast, it’s kind of scary."

I roll to the side, gathering her close, tangling our limbs together until we're a knot of sated flesh and racing hearts. "You never have to be scared with me," I vow solemnly, brushing my lips against her brow. "I'll always keep you safe. Cherish you. Love you until my very last breath."

We make love twice more that night, soft and slow, savoring each touch, each whispered endearment. When sleep finally claims us, it's with Claire's head pillowed on my chest, our fingers entwined over my steadily beating heart.

I know I'll never let her go, this enchanting woman who's captured me so completely. My last thought before slipping into dreams is of the shining future stretching out before us, full of laughter and love and the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

I’ll always keep her stuffed.

epilogue

. . .

Five years later

Claire

The aromaof simmering marinara sauce and bubbling mozzarella fills the kitchen as I expertly twirl pizza dough, flour dusting my hands and apron. Jax stands beside me, chopping fresh basil and oregano from the herb garden just outside. His muscular arms flex with each slice of the knife, a sight I never tire of even after five years of marriage.

"Mommy, mommy! Look what I drew!" Our four-year-old twins, Liam and Noah, come barreling into the kitchen, crayon masterpieces flapping in their little hands. Their exuberant footsteps patter across the tile, narrowly avoiding Jax as he sidesteps them with the ease of a seasoned dad-chef.

"Those look amazing, my little Picassos!" I exclaim, setting the dough aside to admire their colorful scribbles of our family. "Why don't you go put those on the fridge while Daddy and I finish making pizza?"

As they scamper off, Jax slides behind me, arms encircling my waist, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear."I don't know how you do it all," he murmurs, admiration lacing his husky voice. "Keeping up with the kids, the blog, the brand deals. You're Super Mom."

I lean back into his solid warmth, savoring his closeness amidst the beautiful chaos of our life. The meteoric rise of our cooking brand still feels surreal at times—the successful blog, Jax's acclaimed restaurant at the inn, the cookbook deals and TV appearances. But this, right here, is what grounds me. Our love, our family, creating something together in the heart of our home.

"I couldn't do any of it without my partner in everything," I reply, turning in his arms to press a soft kiss to his lips, tasting the faint remnants of the wine he used for the sauce. "Especially on days like today."

Jax's hands settle on my hips as he grins down at me, eyes crinkling with mirth. "Well, running a restaurant does come with a few perks. Like an endless supply of gourmet pizza ingredients for family dinner night."

Laughter bubbles up my throat, mingling with the kids' gleeful shrieks from the living room and the mouthwatering scent of browning crust in the oven. This beautiful life we've built, brick by brick, is more than I could have imagined all those years ago when a charming innkeeper first swept me off my feet.

We enjoy dinner and a children’s movie as a family, and my heart swells at the gently way Jax plays with our sons, the joy evident in his eyes.

The boys are still playing, though it’s evident they’re getting sleepy as I clean up in the kitchen with Jax has a cooking competition with the boys with their play kitchen and food.

"Bedtime!" I finally call out, gently separating from Jax's embrace as our rambunctious twins reluctantly bid farewell to their daddy-son cooking competition. The twinkle in their eyesmirrors their father's, and I can't help but smile at the thought of the delicious chaos tomorrow will bring.

As I tuck them in, I'm struck by the warmth in my chest, the knowledge that our crazy, messy, food-fueled life is exactly what my heart has always yearned for. And as I close the door to their room, I can't help but linger, my senses filled with the aroma of love, laughter, and the promise of more to come.

Back in the kitchen, Jax is busy arranging putting away the dishes. He turns as he senses my presence, his eyes raking over me with a heat that hasn't dulled in the slightest. “Clean-up is almost finished.” His hungry gaze rakes over me, and I shiver.

Five years, and the spark between us hasn’t dulled in the slightest. In fact, it’s only grown stronger.

I can't help but grin, feeling a shiver of anticipation traipsing down my spine. "And what do you have in mind for dessert, Chef Donovan?" I ask, adopting a playful lilt to my voice.

He quirks an eyebrow, a slow, sexy smirk curving his lips. "Well, Mrs. Donovan, I was thinking of a little stuffing." His eyes darken, and the air between us crackles with the same electricity I've felt since the moment we met.

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