Epilogue
SEVEN YEARS LATER
EVIE
The quiet rhythm of my fingers typing numbers on the spreadsheet is interrupted by the soft pressure of my hand resting on my swollen stomach. Since I got pregnant, managing our household finances has become my responsibility, and I’ve taken pride in keeping everything in order. Red’s brilliant in so many ways, but numbers? Not so much. He knows I’ve got a mind for them, so he trusts me to keep track.
When we first got together, Red was hesitant about me finishing my degree. He didn’t want to let me go, didn’t want to put me in a position where he might lose me. But now, with the money I’ve saved us, I can see how much he appreciates it. We're comfortable—nowhere near struggling—but having a little extra never hurt. It’s especially reassuring with our baby on the way. This life we live is risky, and I’m aware that every day I spend with Red might be the last. But if anything were to happen to him, at least I know our child and I will be taken care of.
Still, as I check the time, I can't shake the nagging worry in the pit of my stomach. Red should have been home an hour ago. I remind myself that if something had gone wrong, I’d have heard by now. But that doesn’t ease the knot in my chest. I just have to be patient.
A few minutes later, the door slams open, and my patience is finally rewarded. Red steps into the room, his movements sharp and purposeful. I don’t even need to ask to know that things didn’t go as planned. The tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw is clenched tight—it’s clear. They’ve hit a bump, and Red’s here to work it out.
“Hi, honey,” I say, with a reassuring smile.
He doesn’t respond, a look of determination settled over his features. He closes the laptop and tosses it onto the old armchair that I’ve grown to love. Then, he pushes all of the bills and notebooks I’ve been poring over onto the floor.
“What–” I begin, my words getting cut off when he grabs me and hoists me up by my armpits.
I find myself settled on top of the desk. He pushes the hem of my dress up and hooks the tips of his fingers in the waistband of my panties. As he pulls them off, he starts talking.
“You were all I could think about,” he says, flinging my panties to the side. “Fuck. The longer that the job went on the more I thought about what you did before I left.”
“I couldn’t keep my hands off of you,” I say, gasping when he slides his hands up my inner thighs, applying pressure on the bruises he left the night before. “You looked so good when you left.”
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” he says, letting go of me to grab onto his belt.
I watch with unconcealed interest as he pulls his already hard cock out of his pants. My mouth waters and my pussy clenches. I’m suddenly very aware of how empty I am. Maybe I should have teased him even more before he left. I could have gotten him before he left and now too.
“I’m going to show you just how far into my head you got,” he growls as he presses the tip of his cock against my opening. Without any sort of warning, he presses inside me. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me.”
“Been thinking about this all day,” I admit, struggling to catch my breath as he fucks deep inside of me.
“Yeah?” Red asks as he grabs onto my hips and shifts me forward, changing the angle so he can fuck me even deeper. “You’ve been sitting in here doing mind-numbing work thinking about me fucking you within an inch of your life?”
“Yes, Red,” I squeak, grabbing hard onto his biceps as he rocks directly up against my g-spot. “Right there.”
“Oh?” he says, chuckling darkly. “You like that?”
“Uh-huh,” I whimper, my eyes falling closed as pleasure starts to take over my body, spreading from my core out to my limbs.
My affirmation pushes him to fuck me even harder. Now that he knows he has the angle right, he doesn’t hold back. A whole day’s worth of frustration and anticipation is being let loose on me, and I love it.
“Fuck, you make me feel so good,” he groans, the desk scooting across the floor as he thrusts into me. “I bet I can fuck another baby into you.”
“Please,” I whine, holding onto him in an attempt to keep myself from sliding away.
He seems to realize that the angle is no good. In a smooth motion, he pulls out and puts me on my feet. I’m flipped around and pushed down. I catch myself with my forearms on the desk as Red lines himself up with my entrance again.
“Daddy!” I yelp, the word slipping out of my mouth almost without my permission.
It has the desired effect, though. Red drills into me even more savagely, and I can feel my orgasm starting to creep up on me. He grips my hips hard, leaning over me so he can kiss my neck, nipping at it playfully.
“You like it when daddy fucks you like this?” he asks, his breath coming out in harsh pants. “You like when I bend you over your desk and fuck you deep? You want me to fuck a twin right into your womb? Huh?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, clawing at the wood of the desk uselessly. “Please, get me pregnant again. I want another.”
I feel crazed with want, and it’s clear that Red does too. His cock twitches inside of me, and one of his hands slides between my legs so he can play with my clit. My stomach clenches, and I know this is it for me.
“Red,” I gasp. “Red, I’m gonna come. Keep doing that, I’m gonna–”
“Do it,” he says, his movements firm, doing exactly what he knows I like. “Go ahead. Let it out, sweetheart.”
His voice and permission are all I need. My orgasm bowls me over. It’s like every single one of my senses is heightened. My nerves are on fire. It’s been like this ever since he got me pregnant. Who knew there was a way to make sex feel even better?
“You sound so pretty,” he tells me as he works me through it. “Fuck. I’m gonna fill you up, Evie. Gonna fuck another baby right into you.”
That’s all the warning I get before he’s coming. I get even fuller, pumped with his seed, the same seed that’s already taken root and started growing inside of me. He keeps going as I begin to whimper from overstimulation.
Eventually, he empties his entire load inside of me. When he pulls out, I can feel the evidence of our coupling dripping down my thighs. I love the sensation, love that even though he isn’t physically in me, I can still feel where he was.
“Come on,” he says, picking me up without further explanation. I don’t question him, wrapping my legs around his waist. As we leave the room, he tells me, “I’m still not satisfied.”
“I’m yours,” I tell him, more than happy to give my husband all the pleasure he wants.
“God, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” I tell him.
As he gently lowers me onto our king-size bed, I know that I probably won’t be leaving for the rest of the evening. I can’t find it in myself to care. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and no one else I’d rather be with.