Dear Rosie - Page 224

The sound she makes is guttural, and her muscles clench around me.

“Fuck.” I push in another half inch. “Fuck.” I pull back out until the ridge around my tip meets her resistance.

Then I hold still.

I keep my dick just inside her.

I hold the vibrator on her clit.

And I tighten my grip as I stroke the exposed length of my cock, letting my knuckles bump into her flesh on each pass.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Rosie starts to pant. “M-Mr. Waller, I’m going to come.”

“If you come, I’m going to fill this ass. It will be your fault.”

“I can’t—” Her words cut off with a cry as the orgasm takes over.

Rosie’s body tenses, then shakes.

Her muscles seize around me.

And I hold the vibrator there for another second before I drop it and grip her hips with both hands.

The vibrator bounces noisily across the floor, but the sound is drowned out by the blood roaring through my ears.

My cock starts to pulse, and I pull Rosie back and jerk my hips forward, sinking a few more inches inside her as I fill her with my release.

My vision flickers, and I have to catch myself on the dryer when my body buckles forward.

“Holy shit.” I press my forehead to Rosie’s back.

Rosie snickers. “That was hot.”

I shake my head, thinking how fucking lucky I am. “Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“I fucking love you.”

EPILOGUE 2

HANNAH UTLEY-LOVELACE

I set my spoon on my plate and lean back in my seat.

Maddox moves his arm from the back of my chair to over my shoulders. “Full?”

“I don’t know why I never learn.” I moan.

My husband chuckles. “We don’t learn because the food is so damn good.”

I sigh. “That’s true. And that dessert.” I stare at the empty plate before me. “Chelsea outdid herself on that one.”

“She’s really in her element here,” Maddox agrees.

Rosie smiles at us from across the table. “When I told that food critic last week that a sixteen-year-old made our dessert menu, he demanded to meet her.”

I raise a brow. “Chelsea never told us that.”

Rosie laughs. “Because I told him no. I said he could meet her when she’s eighteen.”

“I knew I loved you,” I tell her as my mother reaches across to pat Rosie on the arm.

I look over to the open kitchen and catch Chelsea looking over at our table.

Are you talking about me?she mouths.

I nod with a grin and wave her over.

I know she has some cleanup to do still, but the kitchen of Rosalyn’s Restaurant is closed for the night, and we’re here celebrating.