Page 18 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

When I am spent and she is quiet, I gather Hollis to me. I tuck her head under my chin, her cheek resting on my chest, our legs tangling.

I could lay like this forever.

And I hope that’s exactly what we have together — forever.

After a span of time that could’ve have been minutes or hours, Hollis lifts her head to look at me, impishness sparking in her eyes.

“Well,” she says, voice teasing, “I think I win.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Win?”

She smirks. “That felt a lot more like fucking than making love.” She lays sweet kisses along my jawline that make me shudder. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I’ll concede on that point. But,” I counter, narrowing my gaze, “have I proven myself? Do you feel loved?”

Her face softens and for a moment I think I see tears glistening in her hazel eyes. “Very much so,” she whispers, taking my face in her hands.

“Then will you be mine, Hollis Watson?” I toy with her hair and hold my breath as I await her answer.

“Teacher’s pet,” she murmurs as if she’s talking to herself more than to me.

“Teacher’s pet?” I shake my head, correcting her. “Teacher’s partner.”

She laughs, a startled sound, like she didn’t expect to hear me say that but also very much needed to. The lines on Hollis’s brow smooth and now her eyes really do fill and spill over.

“Teacher’s partner,” she repeats, showering my face with tears and kisses. “Brought together by poetry.”

“And a fear of avid poetry non-enthusiasts,” I add. When she laughs this time, she snorts, making me laugh too.

Our laughter transforms into nuzzles, then into a full-on make-out session. Before long, this woman —mywoman — has got me hard again.

So I take my cock in one hand and rock into her, my strokes measured, steady, and deep.

I promised Hollis I’d make love to her, and I’m a man of my word.

It’s not long before she’s spasming around me, clutching me close. The sound of her orgasm fills me. My balls tighten and I let her milk my own climax free.

Our cries of pleasure are rough but sure. And in them, I hear all the promises of our future together coming true.

Epilogue

Rowan

Ten Years Later

“Kids!” I call up the stairs. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

I hear some shuffling, a few murmured words, then a thundering that is either a cataclysmic event or three twelve-year-olds getting their asses in gear.

That’s the triplets for you.

William, Elizabeth, and Barrett tumble down the stairs like the awkward, hormonal pre-teens that they are.

“What, we’ve got plenty of time,” Barrett says, glancing at his phone before stashing it in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Seriously. I needed more time to get my makeup on,” Elizabeth chirps, nailing me with an eye roll that could make a grown man cry — and yes, I’m speaking from experience.

“You look great,” I tell my daughter. “Besides, aren’t you too young for makeup?”

---