The Thrust (29 page)

“I’ve wanted to make love to you for so long now,” he said, sliding into her wet heat. “Without love, we were just fucking. This—God, this is making love.”

Clarissa threw her head back with a moan of pleasure as he kissed her neck, her breasts brushing against his chest as he stood at the edge of the table, thrusting in and out.

“It feels so good,” she gasped.

“Let me see you.” He gently pushed her back against the table, raising her legs until they were supported by his shoulders.

Her breasts bounced beautifully with each thrust, her lips parted in ecstasy. Trent reached down between their bodies and found her clit, relishing the feel of the swollen bud under his fingers.

“Oh my God, don’t stop,” she moaned, arching her back.

“We’re just getting started,” he smiled. He thrummed her clit, slowly sliding in and out of her tight pussy, the tension coiling in his abdomen and seeming to reach the very base of his balls.

In this position, he could see everything about her, how her face contorted in pleasure as her climax rose from within, how her eyebrows knitted together. She looked up at him, reached for him, but he was too far away.

“Come here,” she whispered, and he swiveled her legs off his shoulders, around his hips, and pressed against her on the sturdy table.

Their skin rubbed together, creating a beautiful friction, her nipples hardening against his chest.

He had to move his hand off her clit to support himself, but she thrust her hips up to meet his cock, letting it slide over her tender bud, moaning loudly with each movement.

“I love you, I love you,” he groaned, unable able to hold out any longer. His cock pulsed, his come jetting inside her.

She cried out, spasming against his length, extending his orgasm longer than he ever thought possible. Her whole body quaked as she came.

“Oh, Trent, I love you too,” she whispered, her voice shaking as an aftershock rolled through her postorgasmic body.

He lowered his head to the table next to her, his body covering hers completely. They breathed together until their hearts stopped pounding so hard. Until they were calm.

Clarissa kissed his cheek, and he looked into her eyes.

“You are everything to me, Clarissa,” he said.

“Me too.”

Slowly, carefully, he helped her off the table. She looked around at the mess they’d made of the kitchen and laughed.

“Oh boy.”

Trent smiled. “I’ll help.”

Later that night,
after Clarissa had scoured the table until it was fit for guests again and they’d gotten into their pajamas, she watched Trent as he added a log to the fire.

“Want me to light the oil lamp so we can read before bed?” he asked.

“Sure. I’ve got to finish writing this article, so you can read while I work.”

Clarissa was so happy she didn’t know what to do with herself. He loved her! It was more than she’d ever expected, more than she’d ever hoped for.

They cuddled on the couch together, him with his book, her with the first draft of a painstakingly-written account of what happened that fateful day at Grand Central. She wanted a record of it, and she wanted it to be on the front page of the very first edition of the
Letliv Ledger
.

“Hey, Clarissa?”

She looked up at him sleepily and set her quill pen down on a dish, so it wouldn’t spill ink, before putting aside her article and giving him her full attention.

“I was thinking . . . since we’re living together, and um, since I love you, and you love me . . .” Trent paused, as if unsure how to continue.

“Yes?”

“I think we should get married,” Trent said. “Only if you want to.”

Married?

Married!

Clarissa clapped her hands with joy, making him drop his book to the couch.

“Ah, wait. I should do this right.” Trent laughed nervously, and got off the couch, and knelt on one knee. “Clarissa, I love you so much. I love living with you, and I want to have a family with you. Will you marry me?”

Happy tears sprung to her eyes once more. It seemed like she couldn’t stop them lately. “Yes, of course, yes!”

Trent’s smile was so wide she could see all his straight white teeth. God, he was good-looking. And so brave, and so strong, and so . . . so good. He was such a good man.

“I can’t wait to be your wife,” she whispered.

Ever since the Pulse, she’d been besieged by loss and hardship. But finding Trent, and letting him into her heart, had changed everything.

Even with the world upside down, they could be happy in their small corner of the world. As long as they had each other, life was good.

Life was
great
.

Epilogue

ONE MONTH LATER IN LETLIV

THE WEDDING DAY

CLARISSA
stood next to Emily and Jenna, peering around the corner of the house to the back orchard. The church hadn’t been big enough for everyone to join them, so they’d moved the wedding outdoors, under the apple trees.

Each person had brought their own chairs from home and set them up in neat rows facing the raised gazebo Trent, Mason, and Barker had constructed together. The women from the village pitched in, decorating it with wild flowers, and everyone prepared a dish to bring for the potluck reception.

A bit different from the wedding Clarissa had envisioned for herself pre-Pulse—but this was so much better. Friends, family, good food, and room to dance. Anyone who had a musical instrument was encouraged to bring it, and Clarissa looked forward to dancing the night away with her new husband.

Husband!

But first, they needed to get married.

Pastor Dan stood on the gazebo with Trent, Mason, and Barker. The men looked devastatingly handsome. Trent had a suit of his own in the back of his closet; the other men had borrowed theirs.

The women in town who’d saved their wedding dresses were all excited about the chance to see the expensive dresses in action once more. They’d actually had numerous gowns to choose from, some old-fashioned, but gorgeously so. One of the women who had joined Letliv from the Tracks was a talented seamstress, and she’d altered them to fit the girls to perfection.

Emily’s baby bump was just starting to show, and she’d taken to resting her hand on her belly protectively as she walked. It was so cute.

It made Clarissa excited to be a mom again, someday. Someday soon, perhaps, since her period was a few days late. It was too early to know for sure, but Clarissa glowed with hope.

The new church choir hummed in harmony as first Emily, then Jenna, and finally Clarissa walked down the aisle. They each waited for the other to step onto the gazebo so each bride would have the chance to shine.

Emily beamed up at her husband—soon-to-be
official
husband. Jenna practically skipped down the aisle in her exuberance to stand by Barker.

They had no one to give them away, but that seemed very apropos. They weren’t to be given from one man to another, they were choosing their husbands and entering into partnerships on their own.

Yes, that worked just fine for her.

Clarissa walked down the aisle between the rows of chairs, smiling over at Evan and Annie, who stood together, clasping hands. Evan’s mom was already dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

At the gazebo, Clarissa took her place next to Trent. He grinned at her, and she knew if they weren’t surrounded by everyone in town he’d probably kiss her right there and then. The thought left her giddy with excitement. This was happening!

The pastor made a gesture with his hands for everyone to be seated, and they did. “Friends, family, citizens of Letliv. We are gathered here today to celebrate the joyous occasion of three unions under God. Three weddings. I feel blessed to perform any one, but three in one day is a special day indeed.” He smiled at the couples encouragingly.

“Marriage is a deep, binding commitment, one we are making here in front of our community and God. If anyone feels, for any reason, that one of these couples should not be united in holy matrimony, please speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

The audience was silent. Only the birds chirped.

“Very well,” Pastor Dan continued. “In today’s world, we need hope more than anything else. The Pulse devastated our country. Many of us lost those dearest to us, our only solace that they are now in the Kingdom of Heaven. But together, this community has supported each other through it all, and thrived. Here in Letliv, and in communities like it across America, hope for the future continues to thrive.” He paused, looking out at the people seated in the orchard before them.

“Marriage is a symbol of that hope, that love and faith will keep our community strong and growing. It is a joyous occasion indeed, but with this joy comes responsibility—responsibility to each other, to your vows, and to God.”

Clarissa smiled. She wasn’t afraid of being responsible for Trent, wasn’t afraid of losing herself in him. Together, they were even stronger than they were apart.

“We don’t know what the future holds,” the pastor said, “but with these marriages, you are pledging to endure any storms ahead, together.”

Yes, that was exactly what they would do. No matter what the future held.

“Now, do you, Trent Taylor, Christopher Mason, and Kenneth Barker, take these women to be your lawfully wedded wives, to live together in holy matrimony?” Pastor Dan asked, speaking to the grooms. They nodded, and he continued, looking at each man individually.

“To love, honor, and cherish her. To be with her in sickness and in health. Forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Trent said, in unison with Mason and Barker.

The pastor smiled. “We have six beautiful rings, gifts from the community, handmade with love, out of silver coins.”

Clarissa gasped in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting a ring—and she had been uncomfortable with the idea of wearing Karen’s wedding ring. It wouldn’t have felt right to her. But a new ring? It was . . . perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” she mouthed to their guests, her face flushed with heat. What an amazing gift.

“Trent, please place the ring on her left hand, and repeat after me. With this ring,”

Trent took the ring and her hand, enveloping it in his large palm. He was so warm, just like his heart.

He gazed into her eyes, as if she was the only person there. “With this ring,” he said.

“I thee wed, in love and truth . . .”

Trent smiled. “I thee wed, in love and truth . . .”

“In sickness and in health, to love and cherish you, until death do us part.”

Trent placed the ring on her finger, his hands trembling. “In sickness and in health, to love and cherish you, until death do us part.”

A small whimper of happiness escaped her mouth, but she was also able to repeat the vows. Her voice shook as she placed the silver ring on Trent’s large ring finger.

Pastor Dan repeated the vows for Emily and for Jenna, and Clarissa watched as they gazed into their true loves’ eyes and confirmed their promise.

“May God bless these unions, and provide you with peace and happiness forever. Trent and Clarissa, Emily and Christopher, Jenna and Ken—you have declared your commitment to each other before God and your community, your family and friends. It is my humble and deep pleasure to pronounce each of you . . . man and wife.”

Their friends burst into applause as the pastor added, “You may kiss your wives, gentlemen.”

Trent wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up to meet his face. “I love you, wife.”

“I love you too. Husband.” Clarissa grinned and kissed him. The world melted away, until it seemed as if they were kissing alone in the apple orchard, under the gazebo.

When he set her down on her feet again, both Emily and Jenna had similar satisfied looks on their faces—a look Clarissa no doubt shared.

They hugged one another, congratulated one another. Today was a day to celebrate.

The reception followed immediately with homemade fruit wine and a proper feast.

Each table had the very first edition of the
Letliv Ledger
on it, and their guests passed them around, pointing out bits to each other, showing off the parts they’d contributed.

“You did an amazing job with the Grand Central story,” Trent said, nuzzling her neck. “I’m going to frame it for posterity.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said. “It wouldn’t have happened, if not for you and Letliv.”

“Have I told you lately how sexy you look with ink-stained fingers?” he teased, and she swatted him playfully.

“I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to wash this stuff off before the wedding, but deadlines are deadlines,” she said, smiling.

She’d been working nonstop since they’d gotten the printing press ready, carefully laying out the tiny letters, creating huge batches of good ink, and perfecting the hemp paper with Rob until they were ready to go to press. The newspaper was a community effort, and everyone seemed extraordinarily pleased with the result.

So now she was the editor of a newspaper. Unbelievable. Who would have imagined she’d find the perfect career at a time when she had previously thought careers were no longer necessary? Her new passion filled her with pride and a sense of accomplishment, something she realized now had been sorely missing from her pre-Pulse job as a waitress. Yeah, she’d enjoyed the tips. And if she hadn’t been a waitress, that lady choking on her watermelon might not have made it. So there was a reason for everything.

It was just exciting to have something new, something that she could hold in her hands and be proud of. It was almost as exciting as having a new husband.

Almost. Clarissa grinned up at Trent.

As they ate with their friends, Clarissa couldn’t help but overhear some of them talking about checking out the towns with the reconstructed grids. But most, like Clarissa and Trent, preferred to stay in the free areas, without threat of government or military intrusion.