Epilogue
Sunlight sparkles across the pool, and I can’t help but grin as the Littles descend in a whirlwind of bright bathing suits, inflatable rafts, and enough chaos to fill the yard twice over.
“Your pool’s so big!” Lane yells, cannonballing into the water and sending a tidal wave my way.
Theo tugs at his raft, frowning. “I’d have spent the money on craft supplies if it were me. A treehouse would’ve been cooler.”
I shoot a warning glance at Timmy, who’s staring at Keane a little too long.
“Stop it, Timmy,” I snap, voice protective. “My Daddy’s off-limits!”
Keane chuckles and ruffles my hair, and I can’t help but smile, pleased with myself.
“Your Daddy’s hot,” Timmy emphasizes, still staring at Keane’s broad chest and tapered waist tucked into his board shorts.
The smell of burgers on the grill drifts over, and Keane calls out, “Lunch is on me!”
He flips patties with effortless precision while I hand out juice boxes, feeling that familiar mix of warmth and domestic mayhem.
“Could we maybe get a treehouse?” Theo asks again, splashing toward the shallow end.
“You’re all too big for a proper treehouse,” Keane says, eyes twinkling. “But a Littles’ shed? Gaming, crafts, whatever you lot get up to? That I can do.”
Lane squeals and does another cannonball, water soaking the edge of the lounge chairs. Theo crosses his arms, pretending to consider it seriously. I lean back against Keane, wet hair plastered to my forehead, and laugh.
“They’re ridiculous.”
Keane presses a kiss to my temple. “And you love them,” he says.
“I do,” I admit, wrapping my arm around him. “And you. And… this.” I gesture to the pool, the sun, the house… “All of it.”
“All of it,” Keane echoes.
By late afternoon, the yard is full of movement and life—splashing, joking, shouting over a game of Marco Polo and lost rafts. I curl up next to Keane on a lounge chair, wrapped in towels, toes skimming the water, hands entwined.
“Daddy,” I whisper after a long pause, head against his shoulder, “thank you for staying.”
“Always,” he replies, holding me closer. “For everything.”
And in that quiet moment, watching the little bursts of joy around us, I realize—the story I used to imagine isn’t just mine anymore. It’s ours. Full of warmth, trust, and the kind of love that stays and heals, no matter the day.
The sun dips low, painting the backyard gold, and one by one the Littles take their leave. The pool empties, but the echo of their laughter lingers in the warm air. I’m still wrapped in a towel, hair damp, skin sticky from sunscreen and summer fun, when Keane calls me over.
“Shower first, then bedtime story.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Bring your flashlight and journal.”
I shuffle into the bathroom, wishing this was a shared shower with my Daddy washing me from head to toe. But knowing he’s waiting for me makes me hurry.
Keane sits cross-legged on the bed, the soft light of the lamp glinting off his dark hair. I climb onto the bed, nestling close, flashlight balanced between us to read.
“Which story tonight?” I ask, balancing the journal in my lap.
“Whatever caught your eye this week.” He tilts his head. “I want to see what you picked.”
I choose my latest addition, inspired from our courtroom drama. Daddy Keane is Lawyer Daddy, dressed in a suit and tie that look hotter than the skimpiest briefs.
The pages glow under the soft light. I start to read aloud in a low voice, shaky at first, but Keane’s hand slides over mine, warm and steady, anchoring me.
“Lawyer Daddy clears his throat and pulls his tie loose. ‘Come closer, little boy. Let me cross-examine you.’”
Keane chuckles at my word choice, but I continue on, undeterred.
“Lawyer Daddy reaches for the boy’s hands. ‘I’ll need to keep you from squirming away while I question you,’ and proceeds to tie his boy’s wrists with the silk tie.”
Hell, even I’m beginning to squirm, knowing what’s coming.
It doesn’t help that Keane’s thumb toys with my nipple, teasing it into a hard peak.
“‘Tell me, boy, have you entertained naughty thoughts today?’ When the boy hesitates, biting his lip in a cute way to distract his Daddy, Daddy says, ‘Tell the truth, little one.’ The boy confesses, ‘Yes sir’. Daddy asks, ‘How naughty?’ and his boy admits, ‘On a scale from one to five? Seven… sir.’”
Keane laughs and pinches my nipple.
“Ouch.”
“This boy sounds a lot like another boy I know,” Keane points out, and I can’t hide my smile.
“Shh, Daddy. Just listen.”
“Lawyer Daddy continues to closely examine his boy, using special methods to draw the truth from him.”
“Special methods?” Keane asks.
Gently, he takes the book from me and places it on the nightstand. Then he takes my flashlight and shines it at me as if I’m being questioned by a detective.
“You better show me these special methods of interrogation so I have a clearer picture.”
“Daddy,” I plead, squirming between his legs. “You knowwwww.”
“Nope,” he laughs. “You definitely need to spell it out for me very succinctly. What exactly did Lawyer Daddy do to his boy?”
“He used the tickle method first, tickling his boy until he spilled his secrets, but it didn’t work.”
Keane smirks. “Of course not, his boy isn’t naked yet.”
But dutifully, he tickles me until I’m out of breath. Fighting for air, I continue to elaborate.
“Lawyer Daddy employed nipple torture on his boy, but the boy held strong.”
Behind me, I can feel Keane’s chest rumble with silent laughter.
“He’s so brave and strong, that boy,” Keane adds teasingly. He ramps up the sweet torture to my nipples, using both hands to drive me wild, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough.
“What else could the Lawyer Daddy possibly do?”
“His last resort was the stroke method. He tortured his boy with long, slow strokes of his shaft until the boy spilled.”
Keane’s laughter is loud now. “I bet he spilled something, but not his secrets.”
“Daddy,” I admonish with mock seriousness. “The story isn’t over.”
“I’m sorry, please continue. What happened after the boy spilled?”
He wraps his large hand around my cock and works me as I try to remember every word of the story, but my mind draws a huge blank as my dick swells in his fist.
“Lawyer Daddy rewarded him with a kiss, and the magic touch of his lips made the boy’s secrets spill out like…”
“Like a milked cock?” Keane suggests, grinning hugely.
“Exactly! And they lived happily ever after.”
“Just like us,” Keane rumbles in my ear, kissing my cheek.
He flicks his wrist over my sensitive head, making sparks shoot throughout my body. Bucking my hips, I fuck his fist until my chest feels heavy and tight. On a ragged breath, I cry out his name as I spill my load over his knuckles and melt into him, boneless with pleasure.
He holds me until my eyelids grow heavy. The last thing I feel is his steady, comforting heartbeat against my cheek, the warmth of his arm around me, and the unspoken promise that I’m never facing the world alone.