Epilogue
NATASHA
One Year Later
We never fuck at Rapture. Never. Even after more than a year, it’s not something that I can wrap my head around and do. No matter how safe I feel, I can’t relax enough for that, and my amazing husband is all about whatever makes me happy.
Tonight, though, we’re at the club, and we’re watching a man fuck the shit out of his . . . wife? Girlfriend? Stranger?
I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter.
They’re in a voyeur room, behind a closed door with a window that Julian and I are standing in front of, watching them.
We’re the only ones here.
The man has the woman on her side, her leg raised, and he’s fucking her from behind, rubbing her clit and making her bite the pillow.
I love that position.
I lean into my husband and feel him grin against the top of my head before he kisses me there.
“What’s he doing to her now?”
He never likes to watch the people fucking. He wants to watch me. He loves it when I describe what they’re doing, the way we did at the beach resort last year.
The resort that’s now in my name, which was a Christmas gift from my over-the-top, completely unhinged husband.
“She’s on her side,” I say and gasp when he tweaks my nipple through my dress. “And he’s fucking her from behind. Oh, he just gripped onto her throat.”
“Is he choking her?”
“I—no. I don’t think so. Just holding her.”
“Hmm,” he growls and slides his own hand up to my neck. “Like this?”
“Shit, you know I love that.”
“What else do you love, Angel?”
“Fucking everything you do.”
Julian chuckles and plants his lips by my ear. “I’m going to take you home, to the penthouse, and I’m going to fuck you up against the glass, so you can watch your city while I’m inside you.”
“Let’s go.” I grab his hand and march us right out of there and into the elevator, where he pushes me against the wall and kisses the hell out of me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls against my lips. “I can’t believe I let you out of the house in this dress.”
It’s another little slip dress, but this one is red, and I paired it with black heels.
“Hi, I’m a grown-up who can choose her own clothes.”
“I’m going to spank your ass and fuck your sassy mouth into submission.”
“Now you’re flirting with me.”
Julian barks out a laugh and cups my cheek as he hugs me to him. “I love your sass, baby. Don’t ever change.”
Even though our penthouse is only five minutes away, it feels like it takes forever to get home, but once we’re inside, Julian picks me up and walks right for the windows.
He’s a man of his word. Bless him.
With my back pressed against the cool glass, my husband nibbles down my jawline to my neck, and his fingers move under my ass to my slit, covered only by the tiniest black G-string.
“You’re fucking killing me,” he growls as his fingers slip through my slit. “You’re so fucking wet for me, Angel.”
“Of course, I am. Have you seen you?”
With a groan, he sets me on my feet and turns me to face the city, pulls my hips back, and then his mouth is on me, lapping at me, making me moan.
“I love this cunt. Christ, you taste like heaven.” His hands roam up and down the back of my thighs, down my calves, and back up again. “You feel like velvet.”
With his mouth on my pussy, his thumb presses on my tight little muscle above, and I moan against the glass, fogging it up.
“Julian.”
“One day,” he murmurs, but doesn’t press inside. “But not today. Who’s pussy is this, Natasha?”
“Yours.” God, I love it when he gets all possessive like this. “Please, I need you.”
He takes one last swipe through my slit with his tongue, and then he stands, and I can hear him unfastening his slacks. Before he’s inside me, he brings one hand down on my ass with a loud crack and I moan.
“You teased me all fucking evening,” he growls as he pushes inside me.
He doesn’t pause. He doesn’t wait for me to adjust to him.
No, my man starts to fuck me. So fast and hard that I have to brace myself against the glass, holding on for dear life.
“With this perfect body, in that little red dress, smiling at me, batting those eyelashes.”
“You like”—I pause, trying to catch my breath—“my eyelashes?”
“Every fucking thing about you is gorgeous,” he replies. “And mine. Now, I want you to be a good little wife and come all over this cock.”
I’ve been ready to come for hours.
With a loud cry, I fall apart, my hands fist against the glass, and everything goes dark as my body shivers, my pussy contracts around him, and he rocks into me, giving into his own climax.
And then I’m in his arms, and he’s carrying me to our bedroom and through to the shower, where he spends so much time pampering me.
Washing me.
Murmuring sweet words of love and affection.
He dries my hair and our skin, and then he carries me to our bed, where we lie down facing each other in the dark.
“We didn’t say goodbye to anyone,” I say softly.
“Pretty sure they figured it out,” he says and drifts his fingertips down my cheek.
“Julian?”
“Yes, Angel.”
I bite my lip and then dive right in. “I want a baby.”
He blinks down at me in surprise. “Today?”
With a chuckle, I shake my head. “I want to have a baby. Soon. I’m not pregnant today, but I want to go off the birth control that I started after . . . well, after.”
After I came back home from that horrible motel, sick and broken, I knew that I didn’t want to get pregnant for a while. I had to rebuild the trust between us. I wanted to heal and enjoy my husband.
But I’m ready now.
“Throw the pills away, Angel. Let’s have a baby.”
“Just like that?”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet? I’ll give you anything you want, Natasha. All you have to do is ask.”
“Let’s start with one baby and go from there.”
“Fuck, let’s have twelve babies,” he counters and pulls me against him. “We have the space.”
“One.”
He laughs and kisses my forehead. “One baby it is, then.”
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