Page 103 of Holding Hope

I gently thrust my index and middle finger inside her once more, feeling the slick wetness of her pussy coat them. With my thumb, I brushed over her sensitive clit and thrust into her again.

Avalon cried out my name, louder this time. Her hands clawed at the ground and her fingernails dug into the hardwood floor as her thighs tightened around my neck.

Reaching up, I cupped one of her breasts and rolled the taut nipple between my fingers. Avalon continued squirming, her breathing heavy; I knew she was about to come any minute now, but her efforts to hold it in was cute.

“It’s okay, baby,” I urged, rubbing her clit with my thumb again. “Let it out, you deserve it.”

A small hum was her only response and I laughed. “My, you sure are a stubborn little thing.”

I pulled myself onto my knees and leaned over her, keeping one hand on her heat and one over her breast. Gazing down at her, I saw sweat glistening across her chest and forehead.

Lust and desire coated her eyes as she looked up at me, her mouth parted slightly. I kissed that mouth, at the same time thrusting into her with more force than before.

Avalon whimpered into my lips, her thighs squeezing my hand. Her own lips were salty from sweat and I could smell arousal seeping from her pores.

I thrust into her again and again, harder each time until a warm liquid coated my fingers and her whimpers filled my ears.

“That’s it, good girl,” I praised, pressing my face into her neck as she came. “Good fucking girl.”

My girl. Mine.

Avalon was a sleepy, mumbling mess when we stumbled into bed. Allowing me to remove the remainder of her clothing and scrub the rodeo air off her, she kept smiling like a drunk fool. I tried my best to keep my own composure, softly murmuring gentle praises and reassurance.

Later, when she finally fell asleep in my arms, a soft snore escaping her, I let myself imagine what it might be like to be loved by her. Truly loved.

Would it be like the stories in Melody’s room? Would it be like my parents—fierce and unwavering? Or something entirely new— wild and free and entirely ours?

I imagined waking up to the smell of pancakes, her footsteps padding down the hall. I imagined her face glowing in the morning light, smiling at me like I was something worth choosing. I imagined a life where mornings began and nights ended with her.

“If you stare any longer, I’m gonna have to charge you,” Avalon murmured sleepily, eyes still closed.

I laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was wondering how long you’d pretend to be asleep.”

She curled into me with a groan. “I want to stay in this bed with you forever.”

“I know,” I whispered, stroking her hair. “Me too. But Delia’s coming over to go over wedding details.”

Avalon shot upright, eyes wide. “Colton proposed?”

I nodded. “They want to be married by the end of the week.”

“End of the week?” she gasped. “That’s in four days!”

I cupped her cheek, steadying her. “Slingshot weddings are an Opal Springs staple. No one here stays engaged longer than a week.”

Her mouth fell open. “Still. Four days is… four days.”

I pinched her cheek gently, earning a giggle. “Good thing we have an extra set of hands.”

She pointed to herself, eyes huge. “Me?”

I kissed her. “You.”

If there was ever a moment, I wondered how long a person could talk without stopping to breathe, it was now. Delia had been mid-sentence when Avalon and I walked into the Farm House, and in the fifteen minutes since we’d been assigned to string dried fruit onto thread, she hadn’t paused once.

From her seat at the dining table, back turned to us, she narrated every detail of Colton’s proposal—the way the moonlight hit his face when he knelt, the exact shade of the flowers he’d given her, the way her heart “nearly leapt out of her chest.” Melody, half-asleep on the sofa, listened with a soft smile.

“They were my favorites,” Delia said dreamily. “Amaryllis—but not just any amaryllis. The apricot ones.”