Epilogue Two
GRACE’S POV
Five years later…
The kids were asleep. Our daughter, Evangeline, had curled into her pink blanket and clutched her stuffed black cat like it was a lifeline.
Our son, August, snored softly from his crib, arms splayed, tiny chest rising and falling with the innocence of peace.
We kept a nightlight on in the hallway now.
In case one of them decided to wander down to our bedroom in the middle of the night.
The house was quiet, except for the sound of crickets outside the window.
This house was old, and the walls of this place had seen their share of darkness.
When Hellsing had asked me to move in with him, I debated it.
The house literally sat just past the wrought-iron gates of the old cemetery, tucked away beneath weeping willows and thick cypress, and it was always eerie near that part of the Quarter.
But it was close to the Midnight Wytch and not too far from the area where Hellsing worked. It took me a while, but now it’s home.
Our home.
And somehow, the shadows no longer felt dangerous. They felt like guardians.
Peter had taken on work with the church as what they called a hunter of wayward spirits.
A man who knew demons by name and knew how to send them back where they came from.
Bael hadn’t surfaced in years. Not even a whisper of him.
But Peter never let his guard down. He remained watchful.
Holy water always sat by our bed, a crucifix at hand if needed, and his book of rites always lay tucked between the mattresses.
I didn’t mind it, especially if it meant it would keep my family safe.
Jameson had struck a deal with Peter, and he still went to Church.
They made a seat for him as a type of supernatural consultant, which in fact, they found they needed.
More than they thought they would. Especially with what happened with Legion in New York and then Ajax…
yeah, let’s just say the Royal Bastards had a tendency to find trouble in and out of this realm of reality.
The good news was that everything had been calm for a while now.
My mother didn’t call with premonitions, the shadows didn’t move, peace had settled in our home even though for Peter, that peace came at a price.
Hunting demons may very well be his calling, but it took a toll on my exorcist. A hard one.
I padded into the kitchen wearing nothing but one of Peter’s shirts. It hung low over my thighs, his scent still clinging to the collar. The bayou air drifted through the cracked window, thick and warm. I leaned against the counter, sipping a glass of water, letting the silence wrap around me.
That was when I heard the door creak open behind me and I smiled. His boots hit the floor first, then his deep voice with that sexy Louisiana drawl filled the space.
"You walkin' 'round my house like that, cher, you askin' to be ruined."
I didn’t turn around. I wanted to feel his presence roll in and wrap around me first.
"Maybe I am," I whispered.
He crossed the room. I felt the heat of him before he touched me. His hands slid around my waist, rough palms dragging up my stomach, bunching the shirt up over my hips. His lips ghosted over my neck.
"Five years, two babies, and you still look like the most tempting sin."
His voice was low, thick, like the murmur of a Southern storm. It burned right through me. His mouth came to my neck, and he kissed below my ear, then dragged his teeth down to my shoulder, slowly, like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of my skin.
"Peter..."
"You miss me, my sexy witch?”
“Always,” I stroked his long curls through my fingers, my other hand stroked the front of his jeans. The hardness there always stretched beneath the palm of my hands and I moaned softly.
“Tease,” he growled. “I see you missed my cock too, yeah?"
I shivered. "Every fuckin' day."
He turned me around, cupped my jaw in one hand and kissed me hard. His tongue pushed into my mouth, claiming, tasting, taking. I melted. My legs parted on instinct, my hands fisting his shirt.
"Tell me what you want from me, cher?"
"I need you, my exorcist."
He grabbed my thighs and lifted me onto the counter. The glass hit the floor, shattering. I didn’t care. His hand wrapped around my throat. Not tight. Just enough to remind me that I belonged to him.
"How bad?"
I gasped. "So bad, Peter. Please."
His eyes dropped to where the shirt barely covered me. He ripped it open, the cloth falling off my shoulders. I was bare beneath it and his growl made the tips of my nipples grow hard for him.
"Fuckin' knew it.” He bent his head and drew a full breast into his mouth. Sucking and licking it as if it were a dessert so sweet, he couldn’t get enough of it. As he sucked the tip, a drop of milk seeped out and he groaned, sucking it harder into his hot mouth.
“I thought you didn’t have any more milk?” He asked.
“Not enough to feed her, but apparently enough to satisfy her daddy,” I moaned as he sucked on the other nipple, squeezing a tiny bit of milk into his mouth.
“My dirty little wife. Spread those legs and feed me properly."
I did and he dropped to his knees, his breath hot against the inside of my thighs.
"You smell like heaven and taste like sin, cher."
His hands slid my panties down, they clung to one of my ankles as he leaned me down, raising my legs up. His mouth was on me in a heartbeat, tongue devouring my clit, his fingers digging into my hips as I writhed, back arching, moans falling from my lips.
"That’s it, cher. Feed daddy. Let go and let me take you there."
He sucked on my clit, sliding in two calloused fingers. They felt thick and I ached forr him.
“God, I’ve been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy all day.”
He licked at me again, his fingers curling and I came hard, crying out, grabbing his hair, pressing him to my core. My body shook, legs trembling, and he didn’t stop until I begged him to.
“Please, Peter. My God, I can’t!” I squealed as he bit down on my clit.
He stood, mouth wet, eyes dark. He undid his belt, pulled down his jeans and I watched as his massive erection was stroked by his hand. A drop of cream was squeezed out and eagerly I slid off the counter and to my knees, licking and sucking the ti as he had my nipple.
“I see mommy is hungry too,” I moaned around him, confirming his thoughts.
"Fuck,” he groaned and tugged me up. “Turn around."
I turned for him, bending over the counter and offering my body to him.
I wasn’t as thin as I used to be, two kids and a lot of midnight snacks had given me a lot more curves, but Hellsing had always made it clear how much he loved them.
He showed it in the way he kissed me, the way he worshiped my body, especially in the way he’d spread his hands over the soft flesh of my ass, spread the cheeks apart just so he could engulf himself in it as he licked me up and down.
Which he certainly loved to do until I was panting and begging for his cock, which I currently was.
He took one last long lick of my asshole and then pressed against me, dragging his cock over my entrance, teasing me. Making sure I knew who I belonged to.
"You ready to take all of me?"
"Yes. God, yes."
He slid inside slowly. Every inch. I gasped and gripped the edge of the counter.
"Fuck, you feel good. Tight and wet. Made just for me."
He moved. Hard and deep. Over and over, taking the breath out of me.
Not only was Hellsing long, he was thick, and it always took me a moment to adjust to him.
But I loved how in that moment I felt claimed.
He was incessant, making sure I felt every inch of him.
His fingers splayed over my hip, grounding me.
His other hand slid up my spine and tangled in my hair, keeping me close.
"You want it like this? You want me to fuck the ache out of you?"
"Yes, Daddy. Fuck me. Don’t stop."
The first time I’d called him daddy was when Evangeline was born and it just stuck. He’d cum so hard that night that I continued to call him that from then on. He loved it and I knew it made him feel loved.
His hand was on my hip, the other in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck. He bent over and whispere in my ear as he ground his hips against my ass.
"You’re mine, Grace. Mine."
"Yours. Always."
He thrust faster, our bodies slapping, sweat slick between us. My eyes fluttered, I always loved getting lost in his arms.
"I’m gonna fill you up again, my sexy witch. Make another baby. You want that?"
"Yes!"
"Say it."
"Yes, Daddy. Fuck your baby into me."
He groaned, and fucked me hard, knowing this would send me over the edge. His hand drifted over my cunt, and parting my lips he found my clit.
“Cum for me, Gracie.”
I shuddered, crying out as he brushed a finger over my clit. He was rough and so damn perfect. My body tensed, and I met each of his strokes, hanging onto the edge of the counter as the orgasm tore through me. His growl followed and I felt a hot stream of cum aim deep inside of me.
We stood there, breathing heavy, bodies locked, his forehead pressed to my back.
"I love you," he whispered. "Always."
I turned in his arms and kissed him slow.
"I love you too, cher."
We didn’t make it back to bed. We stayed right there, lost in each other, while the moon climbed high over the cemetery and our quiet, haunted little house held its breath for us.