Epilogue
Leo
Davidson picked a fussing Rufus from the highchair before I could and gathered him to his chest.
“You’re going to get sauce all over your shirt,” I said, handing him a wet paper towel.
“It’s fine. It’s ready to go into the wash anyway.” He dabbed at Rufus’s mouth. In the meanwhile, Rufus grabbed him by the beard and proceeded to lather it with the pasta sauce still clinging to his hands.
“Da!” he cried joyfully.
“Da is dirty now too,” Davidson said, chuckling. “We should feed you naked in the shower, baby boy.”
I put the dishes onto the counter and wiped the mess off the table. “That’s a sound idea. Let’s do that next time.”
“It’s my turn to read tonight,” Davidson said to Rufus. “But first, we have to brush your three teeth.”
Reading meant paging through one of the short toddler books while Rufus pointed and tried to take it from him. It was also one of my favorite moments of the day. Most evenings, I’d sit next to Davidson and listen to their soft banter, breathing in their combined scent.
After putting the book away, we waited for our son to fall asleep while trying not to drift off before he did. Sometimes, one of us had to wake the other up, but tonight we made it. When Rufus was fast asleep, we snuck into the bathroom for a quick but thorough fuck.
I rinsed the cum from my crease, and Davidson handed me a towel.
“I can take him with me to the hangars tomorrow morning if you want a break,” he offered.
“It’s okay. We’re going to Manny’s around lunchtime already. We’ll spend a few hours there before the big event.”
“Are you still okay with doing it?” he asked. I knew he was looking forward to tomorrow night, but he also understood how difficult it would be for me.
“Yes. I’m okay.”
Davidson smiled and kissed my forehead. “You can always change your mind, love.”
I knew. But I, too, yearned for the precious one night together we could have.
Arranging an overnight sitter for a one-year-old felt next to impossible. Separation anxiety at that age was formidable for both the child and the parents, and no sane person would voluntarily expose themselves to the terror of taking care of a dragon alpha who’d just learned to walk.
And Rufus didn’t just walk. He ran.
From day one, as soon as he realized he could take a couple of steps by himself, he started running. It was hilarious and terrifying, and apparently not unusual for a dragon child.
I was lucky, though, because I was friends with the inimitable Emanuel Bracknell.
Manny was the only person in the entire world I could trust with our son.
He’d babysat Rufus before, but never longer than a few hours.
When he’d offered to take him for Davidson’s and my anniversary—it would be two years since we met—I might have cried a little.
“Oh hush. I’m delighted to do it. Davidson’s parents live so far away, and hiring strangers is such a gamble. Plus, Rufus is adorable.”
“He’s fast, Manny. Like really fast. Two days ago, he climbed on the cupboard handles and stole a pack of cookies from the counter. I didn’t think he’d be able to open them, but before I caught him, there were cookie crumbs all over the living room.”
Manny laughed. “I’ve seen it all, Leo. Matthew, Finlay’s oldest, learned to shift when he was only two-and-a-half.
Luckily, it took him another two years to figure out how to open the upstairs windows, or we’d have installed iron bars everywhere.
Terrible menace, that boy. He’s in college now, still acting stupid, I presume, but his grades are decent.
And Shane, Gabe’s middle child, liked to fall asleep during hide and seek.
One Christmas Eve, it took the whole clan two hours to find him curled up under some coats in a closet, sucking on his thumb.
If Rufus manages to surprise me, he deserves a cake. ”
Manny was simply incredible—fierce, with a charisma ten times the size of his small body, and so loving; he radiated palpable warmth wherever he went. I admired him more than any man I’d ever met.
On Friday afternoon, I kissed Rufus on both cheeks, breathing in a good dose of his sweet scent, and he calmly let me hand him over to Manny.
He looked a little confused at first, his blue-yellow eyes flicking from Manny to me and back, but when Manny spoke, explaining that Dad was going to be back soon, he even waved at me.
I blew out a breath and drove home to prepare.
At five, I was showered, moisturized, and ready for anything my Master wanted to do to me. Davidson had messaged he was on his way, so I walked downstairs to the atrium.
The golden lace jockstrap was my favorite piece from our spring collection.
It was delicate and complemented my skin to perfection.
Aside from that, I wore my collar and nothing else.
We wouldn’t be going out for an anniversary dinner somewhere or anything like it.
My husband and I had the house to ourselves for twenty-four hours, and we would make the most of every minute.
When I heard the car in the driveway, I knelt facing the door and bent my head.
I didn’t lift my gaze when the door creaked open, nor when I heard the steps, and not when I saw his shoes on the tiles in front of me.
A light hand slapped me across my face. It didn’t hurt, only stung a little.
“Look at me.”
I raised my eyes to look into my husband’s face. His dark eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes blazed. Another small slap to the other cheek.
“Open your mouth, slut.”
I opened wide and waited. My cock was throbbing and my hole leaking already.
The sound of a zipper. The waft of his scent. Mmm.
And then his thick cock was in my throat. I gagged, gulped, and choked for breath. It was fast and messy, and Davidson only took, with no regard for my comfort or pleasure.
I did like our frantic trysts in the bathroom after our son had fallen asleep or the tender, slow lovemaking under the covers when we woke up in the middle of the night and just had to feel each other. Davidson would hold his hand over my mouth to muffle my moans while he moved inside me.
But this…this was something else. I felt the bond between us tugging on my underbelly. It glowed, growing stronger with every day.
“There you are,” my Master murmured, looking into my eyes. “I missed my little animal. So pretty with a cock in your mouth.” He tugged on my hair, his lips curling with what looked like anger. “Suck properly. Harder!”
On a garbled groan, I tried tightening my lips but only ended up gagging again. Tears sprung into my eyes, and Davidson liked that.
“So sloppy. Suck, my horny bitch. That’s it. I’ll feed you.”
His cum flooded my throat, and I closed my eyes, willing myself to relax. The familiar taste soothed me on the most primal level, and if I hadn’t had my mouth full, I would have smiled. I swallowed everything and licked him clean, lapping at his length until he pushed me away.
“Go fix me a drink,” he said coldly as he tucked himself back into his underwear and zipped up.
Usually, he’d praise me for eating his seed, but today, we were playing a different game. One we hadn’t had the opportunity to revive since Rufus was born.
By using me callously, Davidson gave me just what I needed.
I loved feeling like a thing he owned, and adored the mix of peace and exhilaration the game gave me.
For the next twenty-four hours, I’d be the most obedient and attentive serf who ever served.
In return, when I was shaking with anticipation and need, he would fuck me into nirvana.
My Master still wore his suit while I was nearly naked with his cum sliding into my stomach. I went to the bar by the pool and poured him a whiskey while he settled on the sofa and loosened his tie. After I handed him the tumbler, I lowered my head and waited for his next command.
For a while, he only watched me, his gaze seemingly emotionless and calculating, but I knew better than to think he didn’t care. He was edging me, knowing my reward would be all the sweeter, the longer he made me wait.
“Have you forgotten your place?” he snapped abruptly. “On your knees!”
I knelt at his feet.
“I’ve already fucked your face today. Turn around.”
I scrambled to obey and bent over until I was curled up into a ball, my exposed crease right in Davidson’s line of sight.
“There’s my fuckhole.”
Again, he was silent, probably drinking and watching. At least I hoped he was watching me. I tried to clench and push. Then again.
A low growl came from behind me.
Bingo. He was watching. I pushed harder, feeling my hole open up a little, then I clenched again.
“Are you taunting me? Really?”
His evil snarl sent a shudder through me.
“Answer!”
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“What did you do?”
“I clenched my hole.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to tease you, Master.”
“Tease me, you say. Is that what a fuckhole does?”
“No, Master.”
“What is a fuckhole allowed to do?”
“It waits to get fucked.”
“That’s right. You’re a fuckhole, omega. You will wait. I decide if and when you get fucked. Understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Do you deserve a punishment?”
“Yes, Master.”
“What kind of punishment?”
“Whatever you decide, Master.”
He walked around me in circles, and I could hear my own heartbeat. My entire body pulsed.
Then he crouched by my side. He lifted my tail end a little so my ass was high in the air.
“Stay still.”
Snap.
He struck my crease, hitting my wet rim with his fingers.
I yelped. It hurt like fuck, but it thrilled me. Energized, I waited for the next one. And the next.
“You’re a hole, and holes are for fucking.” Another snap, precise and merciless. “Holes don’t taunt and don’t talk back. You’re a hole, say it.”
“I’m… ah! Hole.”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“I am a hole.”
Except he accentuated every syllable by hitting my rim with his fingers even harder than before. How did he angle his hand so he could do this so fast and hard?
“Fuckhole.”
“I’m a… fuck… hole.”