Epilogue #2
My husband groans, his mouth finding mine.
His tongue pushes at the seam of my lips, and I open for him, allowing him to caress me.
How did I end up here, with this amazing man who loves me so much?
All the pain, the trauma, and the disappointment in my life…
it has all been worth it, because I got to meet him.
He says I give him purpose, but he gives me life.
There’s a whole new meaning to being alive when we’re together.
Through him, I found my freedom. My self-respect.
My lust for experiencing things I would’ve been afraid of before.
I don’t know where this life will take us, but as long as I have him, I’ll cherish every bit.
His hands cup my ass cheek, squeezing hungrily as a moan erupts from my chest. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he slides his hand up my leg under my long skirt, reaching my damp panties.
He pulls the center of the material tight, making a string out of it that rubs against my pussy.
I bury my head in the crook of his neck, pulling at the lapel of his suit jacket as my breathing grows shallow.
“So wet. So patient,” he purrs, pulling so more pressure is applied to my sensitive clit. Tingles of pleasure spread from my core to the rest of my body, and I mewl, needing more of it. More of him.
“The sounds you make when I touch you, sweetheart…” He exhales, barely reeling in his control. “I want you to show me how good this feels. Will you?”
I nod fast, eyes closed as I pull my skirt up, allowing him to see what he’s doing to me. When I look down, my pussy is separated in the middle by my scrunched panties. It’s plump and swollen, and when he brushes his knuckles over me, I shiver. Every touch feels delirious at this point.
“So goddamn beautiful,” he drawls, picking the material right above my entrance and pulling it slightly to the side.
The tepid air envelops my heated flesh, and when my husband dips the tip of his finger there, I can’t help but press myself harder against his hand.
“Mouth. Give me your fucking mouth, Cecilia.”
I offer him my lips, and he kisses me, fucking me with that finger that draws out my complete submission.
We spend the rest of the afternoon fucking against the wall, in our new bed, and, eventually, back in the living room on the carpet. Spent and panting, we just lie here, my head on his chest and his hand in my hair, where it always ends up in the end.
He’s always so present now, never leaving me to wonder if he’ll disappear again. I know he won’t. Like me, he’s found his home and his sanity, and I know that no matter what life throws at us, we’ll handle it together.
“I had a dream once,” I confess. “You were in it.”
His chest grumbles with a low hum, his voice groggy and deliciously lazy. “Tell me it was filthy.”
I chuckle. “The thing you did earlier…with my…um…panties? That’s what you were doing to me in it.”
I remember it so vividly as I describe it to him. I had just taken Lucia’s tincture to fall asleep, and then I woke up to what felt like an episode of sleep paralysis. I went downstairs to confront Mikhail in the basement, thinking he’d escaped, but he was still there, chained and everything.
“You made me feel crazy. But in the end, it was just a dream.” My eyes flick to his. “Wasn’t it?”
His lips twitch upward, and I have no idea what to make of it.
Thank you so much for reading!