Epilogue
Ava
Five years later…
“Are you drinking enough celery juice, dear?” Nina’s concerned face squints at me through the screen of my laptop, which is sitting on the coffee table of our family room. I’ve not drunk any celery juice today, or this week, or ever. But like I have for my last two pregnancies, I nod politely and tell my mother-in-law a little white lie.
“Yup, yum.”
She relaxes and sits back away from the screen, satisfied with my answer. “It’s all I drank when I was pregnant with Reese, kept me from being gassy.”
At that moment, Teagan, our four-year-old scrambles onto my lap, and Nina forgets all about her gassy pregnancy to coo at her granddaughter.
“I drew Max.”
Teagan holds up a picture with an orange blob on it, and Nina claps her hands like it’s the perfect rendering of our cat and not a squiggle with eyes.
Max became the pinup boy for Pussycat Rescue, the charity I founded when we got back to Porter.
I’ve rescued thousands of cats and kittens over the last five years and managed to rehome them all, including several dozen who now live at our place. The cats have their own wing of the house with climbing frames, sleep towers, and floor-to-ceiling windows so there’s always a sunny spot on the floor.
They also have free rein of the house, which is why there’s now a tabby rubbing against my legs and a Siamese asleep on the back of the couch behind me.
“It looks just like your daddy, dear. Well done.”
Teagan frowns. “It’s not Daddy, it’s Max.”
But Nina rattles on about the bright colors, entirely unaware she’s misheard Teagan.
Not wanting her sister to get all the attention, Lena crawls onto my lap and I shift back on the sofa so they’re not squashing their brother who’s kicking fiercely in my tummy.
“There’s my girls!” Leon sits on the couch next to Nina, his sun-wizened face in a wide smile I never thought possible when I first met the old gangster five years ago.
He puts one faux snakeskin boot on the coffee table, and Nina puts her hand on his knee and rubs it affectionally.
I’ve never seen love change a man as much as it changed Leon Anderson. As soon as he and Nina were married, he gave up all his old operations and came to work for Aurora running the Las Vegas distribution.
Inspired by my cat charity, he set up a snake rescue center and spends his days caring for injured snakes and rehabilitating them back into the wild. He threw away all his snakeskin accessories and went full vegan, only wearing faux snakeskin outfits now. The one he has on today is a silk coat in a snakeskin print, and Nina is wearing the matching trousers, the one outfit shared between them.
While the girls chat away to their nanna and pops, I excuse myself from the couch. Max is in his usual spot at the top of the cat tower, and I give him a rub as I walk past. Below him, Mindy and Snuggles (named by Teagan) stretch lazily while Vegas scampers past, almost tripping me up.
They might have their own wing, but some cats like to be where the action is. Our newest kittens play on the floor, and Max eyes them warily. Presiding over operations like the king he is.
I chuck him under the chin, and he purrs softly.
At that moment, the nanny, a middle-aged French woman, bustles into the room, holding my personal vibrator in one hand and the solar charger in the other.
“Your device is charged,” she says without a hint of irony.
Heat creeps into my cheeks. After five years with Reese, you’d think I’d be comfortable discussing personal pleasure devices, but it still makes me blush.
“Um, thanks.” I take the slick silver case from her. It houses my personal vibrator and the small attachments it comes with.
“You’ll have to show me how to use it sometime.” Martine eyes the device, and I almost choke.
“Excuse me?”
“I haven’t seen a phone like this before. Is it only in America?”
I swallow a laugh and take the device from her. “It’s not really…”
I’m saved from having to explain myself by Teagan barreling into Martine. She loves the nanny who comes twice a week to look after the girls. “Are you taking us to the park?”
Martine smiles warmly at Teagan. “Of course, if that’s what you’d like, mon cheri .”
My laptop has gone quiet, and I glance over to find Nina and Leon kissing, or rather clawing at each other like love-starved teenagers, and Lena watches intently.
I lunge over to the laptop. “Bye, Nanna and Pops!”
Nina breaks away from the kiss and waves at the screen. Her lipstick is smudged, and she’s breathless. “Tell that son of mine to stop working so hard and drink your celery juice.”
I flip the lid of the laptop down just as Leon’s hands slide into the top of Nina’s silk snakeskin-patterned trousers.
Lena stares at me for a moment, and I hope she’s not going to ask why Pops was eating Nanna’s face off.
But she only climbs down from the sofa and waddles over to Martine.
Soon, Martine has the girls out of the house, and I’m left alone with my cats. But it’s a different pussy that needs stroking.
The third trimester always makes me horny, and I haven’t seen my husband all day. It’s time I did something about that.
It’s a warm afternoon, and just the thought of my husband has my skin heating. I undo the top two buttons of my blouse, knowing he can’t resist my milk-swollen breasts. Opening my device case, I pull out the slick metal vibrator and attach my favorite round head. I switch it to pulse mode and lay the cool metal against my skin in the crevice between my breasts.
The effect is instant. The pulse travels down my body, sending shockwaves to every nerve center. My core tightens, and a needy ache tugs at my lower belly.
It’s definitely time to find my husband.
With my device pressed to my skin, I stroll through the house, taking a detour through Reese’s home office.
He’s on a call as I push open the door and stroll in, trailing the device over the skin of my chest.
“We’ll need to keep the…” his voice trails off mid-sentence when he sees me.
I tilt my head to one side and give him a lazy look as I move through his office. I let the device trail down to my breast, and when it hits my nipple, the shock of pleasure is so intense that my body jerks in response, and a moan escapes my lips. My gaze finds my husband’s, and he’s staring at me intently, the phone still pressed to his ear. I keep walking through his office and out the door on the other side that leads to our personal suite.
“I’ll call you back.” The click as he hangs up the phone has me smiling, but I don’t stop to wait for him.
I leave every door open, even the bathroom one as I turn on the shower. I put the device down for a moment as I pull my clothes off. My body is so overheated that the fabric sliding over my beasts sends new tremors through me.
My device is one in the waterproof range, perfect for shower play as our curvy model demonstrated in the last photoshoot.
I step into the shower and run it over my heated body, turning up the intensity another notch. Every pulse sends a wave of sensation through me, and if Reese doesn’t join me soon, I’ll be finished before he gets here.
Something in the room shifts, and I know Reese has found me. I turn around and his gaze roves hungrily over my body, the round baby bump and the curves that have grown with every pregnancy until they’ve become a part of me.
Without a word, he undresses, and I watch him just as hungrily. His taut body is as muscular and hard as when I first met him.
Reese steps into the shower and holds out his hand, palm up. “Hand it over, Ava.” His eyes smolder dangerously; only my husband could be jealous of a device.
A smile plays at my lips as I run the device over my breasts and a nipple. “You’ll have to come and get it.”
Reese’s nostrils flare, and his eyes flash. He likes the game as much as I do. “Oh, you’re in big trouble now.”
I can’t help the big grin that spreads across my face because, whatever trouble my husband is talking about, I am here for it.
I can’t remember marrying Reese, but I remember every day of my life since. With my husband, my growing family, my eccentric in-laws, and the cats, I’m the happiest cat lady in the world.
Reese
I stare at Ava's dripping body, the small device vibrating against her hard nipple, and my mouth waters. Those are my nipples. My body. My wife .
One of these days, she's going to learn that when she comes, I'm the one who gets her there. Not her toys. Not her fingers. Her husband.
Or she won't.
After five years, I rather think it's the latter. My wife loves pushing my buttons just to get a reaction from me. She knows I'm a beast when it comes to her. That won't ever change. I'm starving for her, every minute of the day.
I stalk toward her, steam swirling around us, until she's plastered against the shower wall with me pressed against her. The vibrations from her little toy thrum through my chest where it's wedged between our bodies.
"Hand it over, Ava," I growl, my lips inches from hers. "Or I won't use it to make you come before you come on my cock."
We both know that's what she really wants—my cock. She's horny every minute of the day in the third trimester. Lucky me.
Her pupils are blown wide as she reluctantly relinquishes control of the small device to me. Goddamn solar-powered batteries. Of course they're her favorite. She gets off and thinks she's saving the planet, too. You're welcome, Mother Nature.
With Leon turning over control of our battery suppliers to us, there was no real reason to continue on with the solar-powered battery plan, but she insisted. “ Think of the good we could do, Reese. ”
Do I look like a man who tells my wife no? Fuck no. If she wants me to fuck her silly with a vibrator powered by the sun, so she sleeps better at night thinking she's orgasming her way to the end of global warming, then fuck it. I'm in.
"Good girl," I croon, pressing the little toy hard against her nipple as my lips crash against hers in a punishing kiss.
"Reese," she moans against my lips, already writhing against the shower wall.
I nip her bottom lip, pinching her right nipple between my thumb and forefinger. "How do you want it, baby?"
"Fast." Her glossy eyes meet mine, already dazed with pleasure. "I have things to do. The kittens have to be fed."
Yeah, that's not going to happen. She'll be passed out five minutes after I get her off while I feed the little furballs. Who knew they'd grow on me like they have? Cats are assholes and they're all obsessed with my wife. It turns out that we have a lot in common.
"We'll see," I murmur, sliding my hand down her belly. Fuck, I love her belly. Actually, scratch that. I love every inch of her perfect body. Every roll. Every dimple. Every stretch mark. Every spot she thinks is a flaw is an utter goddamn work of art to me. I could spend hours lavishing attention on each one—and I have. My hands and mouth have worshipped every inch of her body, leaving her sobbing in ecstasy. I've told her every day for five years just how perfect she is, and I've meant every single word. I still do.
She's a crazy cat lady. But she's my crazy cat lady, and I'm fucking obsessed with her. That won't ever change. She and our daughters are my entire world. So is the little boy growing in her belly.
My heart thumps wildly as my hand slides down the swell of her belly, and our boy kicks as if to remind me that he's in there, patiently waiting to make his debut.
"Not now, little man," I murmur. "Go to sleep so I can do dirty shit to your mama."
"Reese!" Ava chokes on a laugh. "You can't tell him that."
"He doesn't understand me, Ava. He's swimming around in amniotic fluid."
"He might understand you."
I refuse to think about that possibility, so I touch her pussy instead. She immediately gasps, arching against me. That's more like it.
I watch her face as she rocks against my hand, riding my fingers. When she's right on the edge, gasping and panting, I slide the toy down her belly, placing it against her clit.
"Reese!" she squeals, shattering apart instantly. Her juices soak my fingers, but that's not good enough for me. I want another one.
I thrust two fingers inside her, curling them up to stroke her G-spot. I don't remove the toy, either. I keep it right where it is, letting the vibrations hum through her.
"Please, please," she gasps, writhing like a pretty little sacrifice against the wall.
"Nope," I growl, nipping her bottom lip. "You owe me another one for trying to make yourself come without me. This is my body, wife. I get you off, not this fucking toy."
"Reese, please," she whimpers.
"If you want to come on my cock, you better come on my fingers, baby." I bury my face in her throat, sucking at her sweet skin. Christ. She tastes so fucking good. "You know I'm not letting up until you give me what I want."
We both know she wants the same damn thing, as much as she pretends otherwise. She's a greedy, greedy girl.
I fuck her with my fingers, groaning against her slippery skin as her inner muscles clench and flutter around me. Goddamn, I love the way she grips me so fucking tight, like she's trying to hold on to me, to keep me inside her. It's the sexiest damn thing.
She cries my name as she shatters apart this time, coming all over my hand. I growl, press the button on the toy to stop it, and then toss it aside. Before she's even had a chance to come down, I'm spinning her around, bending her carefully over the built-in shower bench.
"Fuck," I groan, slamming into her.
Her head flies back, her muscles clamping around me.
"You feel too fucking good, wife." I hold her steady, pounding into her.
"I know!" she cries like it's my fault her pussy is heaven, and I can't stay out of it. "Fuck me. Please!"
She doesn't have to tell me twice. I'm a motherfucker on a mission as I pound into her, fucking her hard and deep. Her sweet sounds echoing around the bathroom spur me on. This right here—this is perfection.
I never wanted it until I had it. Now, I'd kill to keep it.
"Reese, I'm… I'm…"
"You think I don't know, Ava?" I slip my hand around her body to play with her clit. "I know this body, baby. I own this perfect body."
She sobs my name—which I take as an agreement.
"Do it, wife. Soak my cock."
She never has to be told twice, either. Her pussy clamps around me as she explodes with a keening cry. I growl her name, her orgasm milking my cock. I thrust without rhythm, draining myself into her, giving her every damn drop.
She droops beneath me, her knees threatening to buckle.
"Shit." I spin her, scooping her carefully into my arms.
Her head rests against my shoulder as she pants for breath, her cheeks pink from exertion, a sated smile on her lips. Fucking gorgeous. My damn heart rolls in my chest, and I lean down, pressing my lips to hers in a hard kiss.
"I love you; you know that?"
"Mmhmm," she hums sweetly. "I know."
"Fuck that toy though, Ava. For real."
She giggles, cracking one eye open. "You can't hate sex toys, Reese. You own a sex toy company."
"I don't hate sex toys in general. I hate yours," I correct, reaching for the soap. "More specifically, I hate yours when they're in your hands."
She giggles again, rolling her eyes.
"We both know you only get them out to fuck with me, baby." I run my soapy hands over her, quickly washing her up before she falls asleep on me. "I doubt you even use them when I'm not here."
"I'll never tell," she says.
I chuckle, kissing her hard on the mouth as I rinse her off and then carry her out of the shower.
"Meow."
"Jesus Christ. How'd you get in here?" I peer down at Vegas, who blinks up at me from the rug. He's an orange tabby. I think he's stalking me. Everywhere I look, he's there.
"He probably followed you again." Ava peeks down at him, smiling. "He loves his daddy."
"He's an asshole, Ava."
"Aww. He even takes after you."
I dig my fingers gently into her ribs, making her squeal. Right up until she elbows me in mine. "No tickling the pregnant woman! I'll pee!" she cries, squirming for me to put her down.
I chuckle, placing her on her feet. She snatches the towel from me, making a dash for the toilet.
"Don't start your shit, and you wouldn't have to flee for safety, baby," I call after her.
She ignores me, naturally.
"Meow."
I glance down at Vegas and sigh before leaning down to scoop him up. He immediately starts purring. "You are an asshole, just so we're clear," I whisper, scratching his ears.
"Meow."
"Get my toy out of the shower! I might need it later, Reese!" Ava shouts from the toilet.
Jesus. I have no idea how this is my life—my pregnant wife yelling at me from the toilet about her favorite solar-powered sex toy, her shady ass cat stalking me—but I wouldn't trade it for a damn thing. It's heaven on earth.