Epilogue
Christmas Day
“Another celebration?” Sanders asks, still buried beneath the covers of the bed we’ve occupied for the last several days in a row.
“Yes, and dear gods, I should probably wash the sheets,” I say, standing in the bedroom doorway.
He pulls his arms down, revealing his glorious chest—and that face. His face is glorious too. Scruffy in a way that sends a zing straight to my lower belly. And those eyes… I sit down on the bed, unable to peel my own off of him. “Why do we need to wash the sheets?” he asks.
“They are unsanitary,” I reply, which is a really sexy thing to say to someone who is lying completely naked in your bed. “It’s kind of like the bath thing.”
When Sanders first arrived he was alarmed by the number of times I was able to take a bath in one week. How do you keep the water hot? Do you have to fetch it from somewhere? Will it run out?
“Ah,” he replies. “I do love a modern-day shower. Especially when you join me.” He leans over, gently nipping at my bare thigh, his hair flopping adorably across his forehead.
“I—oh!” I’m interrupted by another, not as gentle, nip. “I could be persuaded into a shower, but we have to be quick. Mom and Grandmother are expecting us for brunch.”
Another word I had to explain. Breakfast and lunch—the best meal in the world.
“I am very excited to taste the brunch,” he concedes. “Only if I can taste you first.”
His grin is wicked as he scoops me up and carries me to the shower.
It’s not large by any means, but it does have a really nifty ledge at the back that holds a frosted window.
I’ve always thought it was an annoying waste of space.
Until Sanders first propped me up there and we realized it was the perfect height for certain activities.
Which is exactly what he does now. The man is insatiable and, okay fine, maybe I am too.
He places me on the ledge, falling to his knees before me.
Sanders looks up at me in a way I can only describe as worshipful.
The splash of the shower hits his back and my legs, which are draped over his shoulders.
His hair turns a bit darker from the water, and it reminds me of when he gets all sweaty from his sword practices.
I suppose this is a different kind of sword practice.
“I love you,” he tells me before devouring my pussy. And we love a man that can be both emotionally available and make you see stars when you come. Feels like a once in a lifetime kind of love, and I suppose it is.
His magical tongue doesn’t take very long to work me higher and higher and higher into orgasmic bliss. And now it’s my turn. When I’m done shaking and get the feeling back into my legs, I motion for him to trade places with me.
It’s not as natural of a position, but he reaches over my head and directs the shower spray so it’s not drowning me, and I take that moment to suck his perfect cock into my mouth.
“Christ, princess,” he growls, hand diving into my hair.
Sanders’ dick is huge. I mean, he is a big guy, but it was also slightly terrifying the first time we tried this.
I’m a quick learner though and realized what I lack in mouth size, I can make up for with my hands.
I do the best I can, licking and sucking at the tip while my hands circle the base, giving a well-timed squeeze.
He uses his free hand to brace himself against the tile wall. “Fuck”—I taught him that one—“Penelope. Can I come down that pretty little throat?”
I groan around his length in answer, and his release comes seconds later. One day we might be able to make a sex session stretch longer than a few minutes, but for now we are too horny, too ready to explode at any touch.
When he pulls out, I lick my lips, standing to kiss him. He washes my hair, his, and then both of our bodies before wrapping me up like a life-sized burrito and depositing me on the bed.
“Look.” He nods toward the clock. “We did so good. We will not be late to brunch.”
We are late to brunch. I let Sanders help me get dressed and then one thing led to another and that dress ended up on the floor.
I bust through the door at my family’s house with a loud, “I’m sorry! We’re here!”
“Why are you yelling, Penny?” Grandmother asks from her favorite chair.
“Mom hates when I’m late,” I reply, reverting right back to my teenage years.
Grandmother looks up at the old analog clock on the wall. “You’re not late. In fact, you’re fifteen minutes early.”
What?
Just then, Mom walks in, curlers still in her hair. “Wow,” she says, checking the same clock. “I really thought it would take longer than that.”
“What do you mean?” I am so confused and honestly pretty hungry. I was a little hopeful that being late meant the table would be ready when we got here.
She waves me off, shuffling into the kitchen. “I told you the wrong time, figured you two might need a few extra minutes to dig yourselves out of that love nest you’ve been in.”
“Mom!” My cheeks flush fully red. “Can we not acknowledge that again?”
It’s Grandmother’s turn. “How do you think you got into this world, Penny, dear? We may not have kept them but we know what it’s like to desire a man.”
Gross.
“And this is a hundred times that!” Mom calls. “What with you being bonded and all.”
Rare. It’s so rare what Sanders and I have. Especially in a line of weak witches. It’s much more common among other paranormal beings or stronger witches like Selene. But not for us—no one in our line that we know of.
I sigh. Relaxing back into Sanders’ hard body. His arms come around my shoulders, and I feel him kiss the top of my head. “Fine, but let’s just keep private things private, okay?”
All three of them chuckle. The traitors.
Thankfully, the rest of the day goes by without any more talk of our “love nest.”
By the evening, we are all stuffed full from eating brunch and then continuing to snack throughout the day. Sanders and Mom even make another cake. I’m a bit worried about his sugar intake, but we’ll address that later.
For now, I’m enjoying lounging on the sofa in the front window, Sanders wrapped up behind me. Mom and Grandmother have both passed out in their respective loungers, so I turn to face him.
The glow from the Christmas lights speckle across his face and reflect in the window behind him, creating a picture I never want to forget.
“I think I like Christmas,” he says, looking sleepily down at me.
“I think I like all of it,” I reply. “What should we be for Leah’s Halloween party next year?”
The rumble of his laugh comforts me. “We have all the time in the world to decide, my love.”
Yes. Yes we do.