Epilogue
Flora
“Damn, Daddy! Let me catch my breath.”
Pablo just chased me around our backyard and into the house.
Of course, he caught me before I could make it up the stairs to our room.
For some reason, he didn’t appreciate finding panties beneath my skirt.
I took off running out of the living room, and he followed.
We’ve been playing the same games for nine years.
I get to see a lighthearted side of Pablo even his family rarely sees.
“You are going over my knee, little one.”
“I’m already over your shoulder, and you’re already spanking me.”
“I know. You’re going over my knee, so I can finger you and play with that plug in your ass.”
“We’ll be late for Josue’s birthday party.”
Javier and Madeline’s little boy turned six today, and they’re having a party for him. I doubt it’ll rival his fourth birthday when he got a polo pony. That was as much about the little boy following in his father’s footsteps as it was prolonging Javier’s revenge against Marco Mancinelli.
Josue’s the oldest but not the only member of his generation.
We’re the indulgent tía and tío. Pablo’s taken lessons from Tío Enrique, who used to spoil Pablo, his brother, and their cousins when they were kids.
Apparently, he brought all the best snacks to games when his brother or sisters and their spouses couldn’t make it.
It’s wild, but all the parents in the Four Families had snack duties at peewee, little league, and high school games since the guys played with and against each other.
“Then you better not come, that way I don’t have to punish you for a second thing.”
“Pablo, my skirt comes to my knees, but it’s breezy today. I’m not going commando around your entire family since the kids will be there. If the wind blows my skirt up—”
“Then you better hold it down. It’s never happened.”
“But it could.”
“If you wanted me to edge you, all you had to do was ask, chiquita.”
He grins at me, and lines appear around his eyes and mouth that remind me of his father and Tío Enrique.
It didn’t take me long to call the men and women tío and tía.
I call Luis and Margherita Papá and Mamá.
I thought it might feel odd since I reconciled with my mother in time for the wedding, but I love how close Margherita and I are.
She’s been a rock for me over the past seven years.
When I didn’t get pregnant the first year we were married, we got worried.
Margherita and Madeline took me out to lunch since they’re both midwives.
They discussed infertility with me, and Margherita got me an appointment with an OBGYN she works with.
She taught me how to give myself shots during the second year of our marriage when we tried IVF.
She reassured me it wasn’t anything I did wrong when I never got pregnant. My “unhospitable womb” and “advanced maternal age” were a combination that’s left us childless. Either could’ve been the reason, but together, it’s meant Pablo and I have adjusted our plans.
Pablo insisted he get tested before we did anything invasive on me.
He insisted he might be shooting blanks.
I know he meant well, but when it was obvious my body was the culprit, it didn’t make it any easier knowing he could have kids if he wanted.
We’ve held each other through our tears and grief about the life we thought we’d have but won’t.
We’re as much on the other side of it as I guess we’ll get.
It’s not exactly a scabbed over wound that won’t heal.
It’s more like a scar that itches sometimes and is numb others.
We look on the bright side, which is that I can travel with Pablo whenever I want.
I worked in a lab the first three years, but now I represent the three biotech companies we own.
I go into an office a couple times a week, and I travel on my own to visit the labs since they’re spread across three different countries.
Since I work from home more often than not, I can go with Pablo on non-Cartel trips.
We also spoil our nephews rotten. They adore us, and our cousins are forever telling us their children like us better than them. Of course they do. We have all the fun with them, and their parents make them brush their teeth, take their vitamins, and go to bed at a reasonable time.
“Seriously, Daddy. We’re going to be late, and everyone will guess why.”
“Yeah. It’s the same reason we’re all late to various events. We’re not any different than anyone else, my parents included.”
He curls his nose in disgust. We had Sunday dinner at Tío Matáis and Tía Catalina’s last week.
Mamá and Papá arrived just before us. Mamá’s skirt was suspiciously off center when she got out of the town car.
I thought Pablo was going to be ill. I just giggled and hid my face against his arm.
Tía Catalina came out of the kitchen straightening her hair.
Tío Matáis called out his greeting from in there and didn’t join us for five minutes.
Apparently, the badeja paisa needed his attention.
It’s a dish piled high with various meats, plantains, rice, red beans, avocado, and fried eggs.
“Josue will be upset if we’re late.”
Javier and Madeline named their son after the abuelo all the cousins share. From what the older generation says, the little boy is the spitting image of the man when he was a child. I’ve seen the family photos, and the resemblance is uncanny.
“Then you better not make this last longer than it has to, chica.”
That’s like saying it better not snow in the Arctic.
He lowers me to my feet as he sits on the end of the bed. He unzips my skirt and pushes it to the floor. He yanks down my panties and holds them up.
“Where were you hiding these? Do you have some secret stash?”
I shake my head, and he narrows his eyes.
“After all these years, have you been wearing panties when I’m away?”
“No. I have a couple pairs as just in case. Windy days, doctor’s appointments, things like that.”
He considers what I say and nods. “Doctor’s appointments only.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He pulls out his knife and flicks it open.
He shreds the damn things to make his point.
There’re scraps of satin on the floor when he’s done.
He puts his blade away and pats his lap.
I stretch over it, and he twirls the jeweled plug before pulling and pushing three times.
I breathe through it when I want to squirm.
His hand lands across my ass, and I yelp.
He gives me nine more spanks before his fingers plunge into my pussy.
When he withdraws them, I turn my head to look up at him. He licks his fingers and grins at me.
“Better than birthday cake.”
“If you say so.”
I know I sound petulant, but my ass stings, and my pussy burns. I want to get off more than I want birthday cake—which is saying something because I discovered American buttercream frosting is one of my favorite things.
He slips his fingers into me again, and I do my best not to beg.
I fail miserably.
“Por favor, Papí. Por favor…Por favor…Papí!”
“On the way home, little one.”
He helps me stand and hands me my skirt. My cunt feels painfully empty, and he knows it. I step forward once my skirt is in place and press my body against his. My hand slips between us and cups his dick.
“However will I make amends, Daddy?”
I bounce onto my toes, give his lips a peck, and spin around. I bolt for the door and toward the stairs. He’s right behind me.
“If you can get to the car before me, Daddy, maybe I’ll apologize with a blowjob.”
There’s no way my shorter legs will get me there first. The moment we’re in the foyer, and he’s certain I won’t trip down the steps, he charges past me.
He flings open the front door and leaps down the three steps on our stoop.
Our driver rushes to get the car door open.
Pablo practically dives in. I’m not much better.
Once the door’s shut, I’m reaching for his pants.
It’s only a couple seconds later that his cock is in my mouth.
His hand strokes my hair as I suck while I kneel on the seat beside him.
He pulls my skirt up and moves on to stroke my ass, which he loves looking at any chance he gets.
Just as he gets close, he reaches for me and lifts me. I straddle him and slide down his cock.
“You’re going to take all my cum, little girl. It’s going to drip down your thighs while we’re at the party.”
“That’s why you didn’t want me to wear panties.”
“Obviously. Now let me give you an orgasm.”
“You’re a prince among men, Daddy.”
“And you’re mi reina.”