People assume that my marriage is over. They’re wrong.
She kicked me out. She changed the locks. She had me served with those damn divorce papers.
But if Grace-Monroe Trotten thinks she’s getting rid of me that easy, she’s mistaken. She doesn’t know the lengths I’d go to for her. I’m not giving up on my wife, on my son, on my marriage.
I’ve changed. And a real man isn’t scared to jump through hoops (wearing ridiculous men’s yoga pants) to prove it.
I may not deserve a second chance but I’m gonna fight like hell to get back in her heart and in her bed.
“Dirty Forever” is the much-anticipated conclusion to the “Dirty Suburbs”, a series of full-length stand-alone romantic comedies about the residents of small town Illinois.
HEA guaranteed. No cliffhangers. No cheating. Promise.
Her pussy spasms around me. Her eyes squeeze shut but I want her looking at me. “Open your eyes,” I whisper, cupping her cheek in my hand. Her lids part and those chestnut irises twinkle at me.
My five senses witness the moment that she explodes. I see the way her face contorts with pleasure. I hear the moans that roll out of her throat. I feel the way her body tenses beneath me. I smell her lust filling the cabin. I lean in and taste her mouth. This is euphoria.
“Daniel…” she moans my name long and low. My orgasm detonates inside of me like a bomb and I shoot my cum into that tight pussy that was made just for me. Grace reaches up and touches my face as I come down from the high.
She rises up with sweat beading on her brow as she looks around. “Don’t tell me we ran out of tissues,” she mutters to herself.
Still breathless, I pick a random piece of food out of her wavy blonde mane. “Think you’ve got animal cookies in your hair.” I chuckle.
“Oh, thanks.” She distractedly runs her fingers through her hair as she bends over clumsily, looking under the seat. “Didn’t I have a roll of paper towel back here?” She leans further and goes careening toward the floor. Luckily, I grab her by the waist before her cranium hits the floor.
As I ease up to pull up my pants, my head goes smack into the roof. “Ouch! Shit!”
“You okay?” she giggles as she rubs the top of my skull.
I smile. “Yeh – I’m good.”
“Okay, this’ll have to do,” she says as she grabs a packet of baby wipes from the floor and hands me a few sheets.
I cock an eyebrow at her as she uses a wad of the wipes to clean herself up between the legs. “Seriously?”
She looks at my expression and bursts into laughter. “We are ridiculous!”
I drink in the sound of her laughter, I let the memory of her smile be seared on my brain. I need this memory. I need more moments like this.
She stares at me as I stare at her. Her cheeks pink up. I love how she still has these little moments when she gets shy in front of me. “What?” she questions softly.
The answer to her innocent question bounces into my mind. I love you…I hate swallowing those words back when they’re what I really want to say. It’s been too long since she heard that declaration fall from my lips.
Cassie-Ann L. Miller writes steamy contemporary romance with a dash of angst and a sprinkle of humor. And if her toddler weren’t rebelling against his bedtime right now, she’d have a minute to write her author biography, too 😉