Epilogue
Jenny - Eight Months Later
Steam billowed from the bathroom as I emerged, wrapped in a towel. Snow piled up on the windows outside and wind howled against the house. But inside, it was toasty warm. The Christmas decorations were glowing softly in the living room and the house smelled like fresh baked cookies.
“Thank God you finished moving in last month,” I said, massaging lotion into my hands and arms. “Carting all those boxes in the snow would be hell on earth.”
Simon was in bed, bare chested, with only a pair of sweatpants on. He had one arm tucked behind his head as his dark eyes tracked my movements around the bedroom.
“I could live without my stuff,” Simon replied. “But I’d rather be snowed in here with you, instead of at the clubhouse with the boys. Or at my apartment. God, I’d be bored out of my mind.”
I laughed softly as I retrieved my basket of nail polish and climbed into bed next to him.
For the past eight months, Simon and I had been dating again.
It was different this time, compared to our younger days.
We didn’t stay out as late as we used to, and sometimes the kids tagged along for dinner or a movie.
On more than one occasion, we had to cancel our date because Mia or Casey got sick, and we decided to stay in, eating ice-cream together, cuddling up on the couch.
“Pick a color,” I said, presenting the nail polish to him.
Simon scanned the choices and selected one—a delicate lilac that shimmered faintly in the light.
“This one. Reminds me of that dress you wore to Bobbie and Psycho’s wedding.”
I hummed in agreement.
“You loved that dress.”
“I loved what happened when I took it off, too,” he replied.
I breathed a quiet laugh as I settled back against the pillows, presenting my hands to Simon.
With surprising patience and attentiveness, he took his time painting my nails, blowing faintly to dry them.
He angled my hand this way and that, applying pressure on my wrist or in the center of my palm to guide me.
A few months ago, Simon made a request for date night. He wanted me to wear a peachy coral pink nail polish. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. He never had an opinion like that before, so I indulged him.
Until we got home and my hands were wrapped around his cock, coral pink polish against his tanned skin. That’s when I realized the color flipped a switch in his brain. He was so turned on that he couldn’t think straight—a breathless, squirming, begging mess, just for me.
Ever since then, I let Simon choose the color of my nails. And he was the one who volunteered to paint my nails for me. I suspected he liked the excuse to hold my hands and kiss my knuckles, stroking his thumb along my palms and my wrists.
Of course, I was sworn to secrecy. I couldn’t tell anyone in his club. Simon had a reputation to maintain as Hades, Road Captain and rebel outlaw. I didn't mind keeping this special, sweet side of Simon private, just for me.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said, watching his studious expression while he worked.
“Mmm?”
“Casey is six years old now.”
Simon nodded.
“That damn kid is growing like a weed.”
I shifted closer, brushing my breast against his bicep. Simon paused and his gaze slid over to my bare shoulder. He dipped his head, brushing his lips there.
“I’m not getting any younger either,” I pointed out.
Simon glanced up.
“Meaning…?”
I leaned forward, bringing my mouth to his ear.
“I want another baby.”
His eyes darkened as he searched my face. He carefully capped the nail polish and tucked it back into my basket.
“How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Nearly a year,” I replied. “My birth control prescription needed to be refilled last month. But I decided to skip it.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. The tip of his tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip as his gaze roamed over me from head to toe. He casually hooked a finger into the hem of my towel and gave it a little tug. I shimmied my shoulders and the towel came loose, pooling around my naked hips.
“Fuuuuck,” Simon growled.
He shifted on top of me, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. A blissful smile spread across my face, getting exactly what I wanted. I threaded my fingers into Simon’s hair, holding him in place. He slotted his hips between my thighs, his cock twitching in the thin fabric of his sweatpants.
“You should have told me sooner,” Simon said, grinding against me. “We could have cancelled our date and stayed in bed all night.”
I nestled deeper into the mattress, wiggling underneath him. He guided my legs to lock around him, pressing the throbbing bulge of his cock even harder to my pussy.
“Tarzan and Keely are looking after Mia and Casey,” I said. “We have plenty of time to make a baby.”
Simon groaned, cradling my tits in his hands as he kissed me.
I grinned against his lips, looping my arms around his neck.
Closing his eyes, he buried his face in my neck, slipping one hand between my thighs.
A wrecked sound tore from my throat when the rough, callused pads of his fingertips stroked my clit.
“I can’t wait to see you pregnant again, honey,” Simon rasped. “Carrying our little one in your belly. That special glow in your eyes when you talk about them.”
He slid two fingers inside me, curling upward until I whimpered.
“And the hormones,” he added. “You’re so fucking sensitive and you orgasm so hard when those pregnancy hormones are going wild.”
A rush of heat flooded between my thighs at the thought. I pushed my hips up into Simon’s hand, fucking myself desperately on his fingers. He rumbled his approval into the curve of my neck. I could feel his wicked little smile as he licked and pinched at my pulse.
I shoved at the waistband of his sweatpants, digging my nails into the firm muscle of his ass, pulling him tighter against me.
“For God’s sake, Simon, just fill me up already, please,” I begged.
He chuckled and worked his sweatpants down further to free his cock. I wrapped my hand around it instantly, my fresh lilac nail polish pale and feminine against the raging masculinity of his erection.
Simon hooked his forearms behind my thighs, pushing my knees up to my chest. I guided his length through my slickness, coating his length, then slotted the tip at my entrance.
“Eyes on me, honey,” he said, his voice deliciously low and rough.
I dragged my gaze away from the beautiful sight of his thick, hard cock, and I looked up into his face. He covered my body with his, bringing his mouth so close to kissing, and he slowly sank into my pussy, inch by hot, searing, perfect inch.
A gleam of possessive hunger sparked in Simon’s eyes, watching the pleasure morph across my face. My lips parted, my breath caught in my throat. When he was fully sheathed inside me, he circled and rolled his hips, sending sparks of ecstasy flooding through every nerve until I was trembling.
“My woman, my wife, the mother of my children,” Simon said, punctuating each word with a dragging thrust that made my eyes roll back in my head. “This is where you belong, sweetheart. In my arms. Taking my cock like it was made for you.”
My nipples grazed the firm muscles of his chest and the weight of his balls pressed against my ass every time he plunged deep.
I curled my fingers around the back of Simon’s neck, pulling him down to kiss him.
His mouth crashed against mine, devouring, his hunger for me impossible to satisfy, even now after so many years together.
“I need you deeper,” I said, breathless, pressing my forehead to his. “I need you to make me forget why I would ever dream of leaving you in the first place.”
A muscle pulsed in Simon’s jaw. Pinning my wrists above my head with one hand, he smoothed his other palm down my body, squeezing my breasts, caressing the juicy curve of my hip. Then he settled his palm on my lower belly, skimming his thumb over the hood of my clit.
He started pumping faster, harder. His abs flexed with every thrust, obliques standing out in stark relief. Power coursed through him, driven by the primal desire to breed. My walls fluttered at the onslaught of pleasure, overwhelmed by Simon’s steady relentless pressure on my clit.
My orgasm swelled, too much, too good. My thighs were shaking and my nails raked down Simon’s torso in vivid dark marks.
“Yes, yes, oh my God, Simon—” I whined.
He covered my hand against my chest, holding me in place.
“That’s it, honey. Fall apart for me. You’re so fucking gorgeous, creaming all over my cock like this. Come on, mi amor. Show me how much you want my baby in your belly and milk me dry.”
His name tore from my throat as I shattered, muscles seizing, cresting a wave of blinding ecstasy. Simon kept going, snapping his hips through every squeeze of my walls.
Without warning, he pulled out, and my pussy grasped at nothing but emptiness. I whimpered, still shaking with tremors after I came.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’m not done with you yet.”
Simon tugged on my ankles, rolling me onto my stomach. Using my hips for leverage, he angled my ass off the bed, knees on the floor. With my arms stretched out in front of me, clutching the sheets, cool air breezed over my exposed, soaked pussy.
Simon gave an appreciative growl as he kneaded my plump ass, trailing his palm along the curve of my spine. The blunt head of his cock nudged at my entrance again.
“Deep breath, mi amor,” he said.
I did as he instructed, and just as my lungs were filled with oxygen, he buried his cock balls-deep in one powerful thrust of pleasure that made me shiver.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” he said, his voice gritty. “So goddamn wet for me, sweetheart.”
I reached back, blindly searching for his hand. Simon threaded our fingers together. He bent over me, cupping his other palm to my throat and pressed his mouth to my ear.
“Is that deep enough for you, honey?” he said. “Is this what you wanted? Bent over and stuffed so full that you can feel every ridge and vein of your husband’s cock?”
All I could do was gasp an incoherent string of noises as he pounded into me, over and over. He snarled and grunted, muscles straining, radiating so much pent up sexual frustration.
“Yes,” I sobbed. “Yes, it is. Don’t stop. Fuck, Simon, I’m coming again—”
I broke off as Simon planted his hands on my ass, hips pistoning hard and fast. My fingers curled into the sheets as the pressure of my orgasm ballooned and burst with a gush down my thighs.
Simon slumped over me, his hips jerking with uneven thrusts. His breathing turned raspy and shallow before he groaned and pushed his cock deep one last time, pulsing as he emptied into me.
We sagged against the bed, sticky and limp with exhaustion.
Simon was the first one to move, lifting me into bed. He slid in behind me, stroking his fingers through the mess between my thighs. Then he pressed his cock into me, tucking my ass in tight against his hips to keep me there.
“What are you doing?” I said, my voice ragged, tired.
“You’re my woman,” Simon replied. “And if my woman says she wants a baby, that’s what she’s gonna get.”
I wiggled deeper into his embrace, savoring the slippery feeling of his cock plugged inside me. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long before I had a pregnancy announcement to make. I smiled to myself, picturing the look on Simon’s face when I told him that he would be a father for a third time.
“I love you,” I whispered, bringing his hand up to kiss his wedding ring. He never took the damn thing off, even after our divorce, and I was impressed that his faith in our partnership hadn’t wavered.
“Love you, too, honey,” Simon murmured, kissing my hair.
“Can you propose to me in the morning? I really want to marry you again.”
He hummed and tightened his arms around me.
“I’d be happy to, mi amor.”