Epilogue
Callista
One and a half years later…
Snow drifts softly outside the tall windows of our townhouse, the Moscow sky a sheet of pale gray. The world feels hushed, blanketed in winter quiet. Inside, it’s warm. The crackle of the fire fills the room, and the soft sounds of my baby’s breathing and suckling fill the spaces in between.
I sit in the rocking chair Dmitry bought for me, wrapped in one of his oversized sweaters.
Our daughter—our perfect little angel—is nestled against my chest, her tiny fingers curling around my necklace as she nurses.
Her warmth seeps into me, and I can’t stop smiling as I watch her round cheeks move with each pull.
The front door clicks open. Footsteps echo through the hall, heavy and familiar.
“Welcome home,” I murmur softly, looking up as Dmitry steps into the room.
He looks every inch the man he was meant to become.
Broader now, more sure of himself. His dark hair is a little longer, his jaw dusted with stubble that makes him look even more dangerous.
His shirt is half unbuttoned, the ink on his chest visible beneath the dim light.
The tattoos crawl up his throat, intricate and sharp, the mark of power.
His glasses catch the glow from the fire, softening the danger into something beautifully human.
I can’t help smiling. “You’re starting to look like a real crime boss now.”
He smirks, tugging at his collar. “And you look like one’s wife.”
“I am one’s wife,” I say, my voice playful but tender.
He crosses the room in a few long strides, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me before he even reaches my chair. He leans down, kissing me first—slow, deep, and warm—and then presses a kiss to our daughter’s soft head.
“She’s getting bigger,” he says quietly. “Looks more like you every day.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re blind. She’s your little twin. Even the way she frowns in her sleep—it’s you.”
He chuckles, brushing his knuckles down our baby’s cheek. “Then she’s perfect.”
“She is,” I whisper, gazing down at her. Her lashes flutter against her plump cheeks, and she lets out a tiny sigh. My heart aches with love. “I didn’t think I could love anything this much.”
Dmitry kneels beside the chair, his hand resting on my thigh, his eyes soft. “You’ve been amazing, Callista. The way you take care of her, of us... I couldn’t ask for more.”
I reach out, threading my fingers through his hair. “And you’ve given me everything. This home. This peace. A life where I don’t have to worry about anything but our daughter.”
He kisses my hand, his lips warm against my skin. “You earned this. You made me believe it was possible. I’ve been busy lately, but tonight... tonight is just for us.”
I smile, rocking our daughter gently as the firelight flickers across the room. “I’d like that. You, me, and her. That’s all I need.”
He stands, lifting me carefully from the chair, his arm steady around my waist. “Good. Because that’s all you’ll ever have to need.”
As he carries us toward the bedroom, our baby nestled between us, I glance around the home we built together—the soft lights, the quiet luxury, the warmth that fills every corner.
My life is everything I used to dream of and more. I have a husband who worships me, a child who carries both our hearts, and a future that feels endlessly bright.
We graduated from college before I gave birth. Dmitry was constantly with me, watching me throughout my pregnancy, making sure I got everything I needed, even though he was often on his laptop. In a few months, I’ll launch my own business. For now, though, I have everything I ever wanted.
The baby finishes nursing, her tiny mouth slackening as she drifts into a peaceful sleep.
I burp her gently, feeling the warm bubble of air escape her lips.
Dmitry watches, his eyes filled with a mix of love and awe.
He takes her from my arms, cradling her close to his chest as we walk to the nursery.
The room is soft and inviting, with a mobile of stars and moons hanging over the crib. Dmitry lays her down carefully, tucking the blanket around her. We both watch her for a moment, her little chest rising and falling with each breath.
“She’s perfect,” Dmitry murmurs, his voice low and gentle.
I nod, a smile tugging at my lips. “She is.”
As we walk back to our bedroom, I winch slightly, my swollen breasts brushing against the fabric of my sweater. Dmitry notices instantly.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern etched on his face.
“My breasts,” I say softly. “They’re still sore. She didn’t drink all my milk.”
His eyes darken with a mix of desire and protectiveness. “Let me help you.”
He guides me to the bed, his hands gentle as he lifts my sweater over my head. My breasts are heavy and sensitive, milk leaking from the engorged nipples. Dmitry’s breath catches as he takes in the sight of my postpartum body.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his hands tracing the curve of my hips, the soft roundness of my belly. “So maternal and perfect.”
He cups my breasts, his thumbs brushing over the swollen nipples. I gasp, the sensation a mix of pleasure and pain. He leans down, his mouth capturing one nipple, sucking gently. The relief is instant, a warm rush of milk flowing into his mouth. He swallows, his eyes never leaving mine.
“You taste so good,” he murmurs, moving to the other breast, repeating the process. “I love how you look when you’re leaking milk. It’s so fucking hot.”
I moan softly, the sensation of his mouth on my breasts sending pulses of pleasure straight to my core. He continues to suckle, draining the excess milk until my breasts feel lighter, the pressure relieved.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice breathy.
He lifts his head, his lips glistening with a mixture of milk and desire. “You’re welcome, babygirl. But I’m not done with you yet.”
He stands, his hands moving to the waistband of my pants. He slides them down, along with my panties, leaving me naked before him. His eyes roam over my body, taking in every curve and contour.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he growls, his voice low and hungry. “Your hips, your soft belly, your huge tits. You look like a goddess, Callista. A fertile, maternal goddess.”
He strips off his own clothes, his cock hard and ready. He climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between my legs. His fingers trace the wet folds of my pussy, making me gasp.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “You want this, don’t you? You want me to breed you again, put another baby inside you.”
I nod, my breath coming in quick gasps. “Yes, Daddy. I want it.”
He thrusts into me, filling me completely. I cry out, my body stretching to accommodate him. He moves slowly at first, letting me adjust to his size, then increases his pace, his hips slamming against mine.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his hands gripping my hips tightly. “So tight and wet. You were made for me, Callista.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
His cock hits a spot inside me that makes me see stars, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.
He leans down, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth again, sucking hard.
The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through my body, my pussy clenching around his cock.
“You like that, don’t you?” he rasps, his voice rough with need. “You like being fucked while your tits are leaking milk. You’re such a hot little breeder, babygirl.”
I moan, my body shaking with each thrust. He reaches between us, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in tight circles. The pleasure is overwhelming, my body tensing as I feel my orgasm building.
“Come for me,” he commands, his voice harsh. “Come all over my cock, babygirl. I want to feel your pussy milking me.”
His words push me over the edge. My body convulses, my pussy clamping down on his cock as I come, my screams filling the room. He groans, his body tensing as he finds his own release, his cock pulsing as he unloads rope after rope of his hot cum deep inside me.
He collapses on top of me, his breath ragged, his body slick with sweat. He kisses my forehead, his voice soft and tender. “I love you so much, Callista. You’re my everything.”
I smile, my heart full of love and contentment. “I love you too, Dmitry. More than anything.”
He rolls off me, pulling me into his arms. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. This moment, wrapped in his embrace, our daughter sleeping peacefully in the other room, feels like perfection.
“I’ve been away too much,” he says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on my back. “I’m sorry for that. But I promise, I’ll make up for every night I spent away from you.”
I look up at him, my voice soft. “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve given me everything I ever wanted.”
He smiles, his eyes filled with love. “And I’ll keep giving you more. Always.”