Pretend Love Romance by Penny Wylder

Epilogue

Rachel

Six Months Later

There are more people here than I imagined there would be. It’s crazy! The Larder is packed to the gills and people are waiting outside in a line.

The rush to get the restaurant open in time has been a huge project, but it was worth it. Both Clayton and I want the restaurant to be established and running smoothly by the time the next tourist season comes around.

After I turned the kitchen around at the ranch, and the standard of food became far higher, Clayton asked me if I wanted to start a real restaurant with full creative control. He had the place picked out, the business plan, everything. Said it was his wedding gift to me.

So today we’re here at The Larder in Jackson. It’s the grand opening, and I didn’t expect this kind of turnout. But we’re featuring Rocking R Beef, and the word of mouth about the resort food is enough to make people curious.

Clayton weaves through the crowd toward me, and I smile the way I always do when I see my husband. No matter what, just seeing him brightens my day. He doesn’t stop when he reaches me, tucking an arm around my waist and pulling me around the corner. “Hi.”

“Everything’s almost ready,” he says. “Are you sure about this?”

I roll my eyes. We’ve had this conversation before, but he keeps checking in with me. It’s sweet.

“Yes, honey, I’m sure.”

Even though I designed the menu and did the development of all the food, I’m not the head chef at The Larder. That title goes to Martin. He’s actually a great chef who has risen to the task.

Being the chef here would mean a long commute, and a lot of time away from Clayton. And being that we’re still newlyweds, that’s the last thing that I want. Aside from that, the shiny new Michelin star that the Rocking R Ranch just earned made it easy to want to stay there.

I am aiming for two stars next year.

“This will be good for him, and I’d rather be with you.”

He smiles and kisses me on the forehead. “You’re too kind.”

“I think I’m just right,” I say. “Besides, we need to get back before all the jam is gone. I heard from Leslie that they didn’t make much today.”

A wicked grin appears on his face. “That’s true. We need to have them make extra for winter, because I’m not going six months without that jam.”

“You know there are other things to eat, right?”

“I do, but jam will always be my favorite,” he says.

I grip his shirt and pull him closer. “We need to eat, and then…”

Clayton raises an eyebrow. “You know we have plans. You’re not getting out of it.”

I blush, lowering my voice. “Yes, sir.”

“Fucking hell,” he breathes. “You know what that does to me.”

“Yes I do, now let’s get out of here.”

He looks at me for a moment. “You’re in an awful hurry.”

I glance away. “I want to get to those plans, and I’m hungry. I need regular meals now since I’m eating for two now.”

Clayton freezes. Then he gasps. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” I say, already tearing up. “I just found out this morning.”

“Holy shit.” He crushes me to the wall and consumes me in a kiss that I’m sure is smudging my lipstick, and I couldn’t give less of a damn. “We’re having a baby.”

“We are.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, grabbing my hand. “My wife needs the exact food that she wants.”

I’m laughing as he pulls me through the crowd and away toward home.

* * *

I writhe as another wave of pleasure hits me. I have no idea how long I’ve been like this, bound face-down to the bed, blindfolded and gagged, a vibrator between my legs.

Clayton finally brought to life the fantasy that he spun for me the first week that we were together. And I am not good at it. He sets me up on the bed, tied at my ankles and wrists, with the vibrator positioned between my legs. And every time we’ve tried this, despite his instructions not to come, I spend the time consumed by multiple orgasms. I can’t help it.

As soon as we returned from The Larder, we ate a delicious meal and then he carried me back to our house in his arms. He was bursting with pride about the fact that I was pregnant, but he was not about to let me lapse on the lesson he was teaching me on self-control, even if I moaned and begged him to let me stop for the night.

“Absolutely not,” he said, eyes dark as he carried me over the threshold again. “Every day, Rachel. Every fucking day until you make it.”

“What if I never make it?” I whispered, heart already pounding.

He grinned. “We’ll see.”

It has been four days since he fucked me, the vibrations are always too much and send me over the edge before he gives me permission. I am dying to feel his cock again, for him to lose control and finally take me. But he won’t, even when I press myself up against him.

Clayton stripped me and ordered me onto the bed, and I obeyed him.

Over the last six months of our marriage, we’ve fallen into a perfect rhythm. We are equals in everything. The employees at the ranch respect us equally, and there isn’t a moment when I feel less valuable than him. We are partners in chores and in business and in life. Except when it comes to sex.

And I love every damn second. Handing over the reins to him gives me the freedom to feel the pleasure he offers without any guilt or worry, and Clayton revels in the control that I offer him. It fulfills us in ways that we can’t explain and don’t question.

He’s never crossed a boundary I set, and he takes care of me, as well as giving me nearly impossible pleasure. And I am dying for that pleasure now. Sure, I came the last three days, but it’s not the same. They weren’t from him.

Clayton changed it up today, unravelling the rope and tying me face down to the bed, spread as far as I could go. He straddled my back as he blindfolded me, whispering in my ear. “Do you have permission to come, my little pregnant wife?”

“No, sir,” I managed to say.

“Good,” he said. “Because you haven’t been able to control yourself, tonight you don’t even get to ask. You may not come until I tell you. And if you do, we start over.”

He slipped the fabric of the tie that he’d warn to The Larder between my lips, and I groaned. The gag tightened, and it just made me hotter. I wanted to do this for him. To complete this challenge and prove to him that I could make it. That I could hold out.

Then the sound started. He slipped inside me a small vibrator that curls around to the outside and has a little piece that sucks on my clit. It makes me see stars every time he turns it on.

But tonight is a special occasion, and I am determined. He placed it perfectly and left it, the bed pushing it even harder against my clit. Clayton holds the remote, and he knows exactly how to use it.

He brushed a kiss to the place where my shoulder met my neck—the same place he first marked me. “Good luck,” he said, and then his weight left the bed.

I never know where he is when we does this, leaving me blind and bound. He never goes too far, not willing to leave me completely alone and restrained, and I feel safer having him close. I think he goes downstairs, maybe just sitting in the living room and waiting, playing with remote to tease me. Maybe he even takes out his cock and strokes himself.

Shit.With that dirty image in my mind the vibrator picks up intensity, and I fight against the impulse to come. I fist my hands in the sheets and pull at the ropes, but there is no give. It feels like I’ve been trapped in this pleasure purgatory for hours, but truly I’ve lost track of time. Time ceases to exist when we do this.

I am allowed to scream, and I do, moaning against the gag in my mouth and cursing Clayton and his delicious dominance. The struggle won’t make a difference to him. He ends it when he ends it and not a second before.

No, no, no. It is too much. I’m not going to make it.

Moving my hips, I try to get away, to have any relief from the sensation, but there isn’t any. I scream, and hold on, and the vibrations fade into nothing. Fuck. Fucking hell.

From somewhere in the room I hear Clayton’s low laugh. I shiver, goosebumps running down my spine. My husband owns every part of me, and I love him for it. He lets me breathe for a moment before the power turns back on, rising in intensity until it is on its maximum setting. I am seconds away from coming, falling through pleasure, every muscle taut with the effort to not let myself go. I think I scream again, but I hold on with every ounce of will until he turns off the vibrator, my head collapsing onto the pillow in exhaustion.

Slowly, the vibrator is taken away. I gasp in pure relief, my body still on a hair-trigger.

Hands smooth up my back, and then Clayton’s mouth follows. I feel his cock at my entrance and begin to make a sound. “No,” he says, already knowing. “You don’t get to ask. I will tell you.”

Every hard inch of him is exquisite torture. Finally, after days, this is what I want. I will hold myself back, impossibly.

Clayton doesn’t take it easy on me. He slams himself deep with the desperation of three days without fucking me. There hasn’t been a day until now where we’d gone without each other, and it shows.

Over and over again. I am lost in him, completely focused on the fact that I can’t give in. I won’t dare. His cock is delicious heat and friction and perfection. Everything.

With a loud groan, Clayton comes, filling with me heat. He doesn’t stop, fucking me as he presses himself along every inch of my body. “Come for me, wife.”

The world goes white. I shatter into a million pieces and am remade out of pleasure. My world is a thousand fireworks going off all at once. Each cell in my body is forged of light. I swear that if I could see myself, I would look like a supernova.

It simply doesn’t end; it goes on forever. My mind drops into perfect nothingness, a pale world of ecstasy that I don’t want to leave.

When I become aware of the world again, I am no longer blindfolded, gagged, or bound. I am wrapped in Clayton’s arms, draped over his chest and cradled with a blanket. “You okay there?” he asks with a laugh.

It takes a while for me to find my voice. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“You made it.”

“I don’t know how.”

He laughs again, pressing his lips to my hair. “Well it was damn fucking impressive.”

Clayton shifts us so that we’re side by side, his hand tracing down my stomach. “Have I told you how much I love you today?”

I smile, exhaustion creeping in. “I never mind hearing it.”

“I will endlessly be grateful for Wyoming’s insane homestead laws, because I thought it was going to be the worst thing that ever happened to me, and it ended up being the best. I love you so much, and I can’t wait to raise our baby together.”

Tears flood my eyes as he kisses me softly. He will be gentle with me now—he always is after we do something like this—caring for me as much as he pushes me. “I love you,” I tell him, “and I’ll always be your wife.”

Clayton chuckles, and pulls me closer. I fall asleep looking to the future, knowing that it has the possibility to be perfect.

* * *

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