Epilogue
It felt wrong to be as happy as I was after such a traumatic event.
I mean, I was upset about the whole ordeal. I’d woken up in a cold sweat the second night, but Brock was right there, running his hands over me, quietly whispering to me that I was okay, that I was safe, that he was there for me.
After going pretty much my entire life not having a man to be there for me, I had to admit that it felt good.
Cam was with us every day as well, only leaving to go to therapy, or to grab coffee or lunch, claiming he needed something to do, but I was pretty sure some part of him was still feeling guilty about the whole situation, so he wanted to keep doing for me.
“What do you think about me getting Cam a new apartment?” I asked Brock as we sat in the kitchen drinking our coffee.
“He doesn’t seem to want to go back to his place.
And who could blame him? I was thinking that I could…
get him a different place, so he could start over fresh.
Then when he is ready, he can go and get his old stuff. What?” I asked, looking over at him.
“When I was talking to Frank, someone was moving out of the building,” he said. “I mean, I’m sure you weren’t thinking about giving him an apartment here.”
“That would actually be perfect,” I objected. Was it expensive? Sure. But the more I thought about things, about the future, about what I wanted it to look like, the more I had to admit to myself that I finally needed to take some time away from work, stop making my entire life about it.
But to step away, I had to let someone else take more control.
Who better than Cam for that? The only other person who knew the business as inside and out as I did. Hell, maybe even more so since he had the inside track with the other employees there.
And if I was going to give Cam more control over the company, so I could have more freedom, it made sense for him to be close.
It also made sense to have him close if I was going to be spending some time with Brock in Navesink Bank.
He could keep an eye on my apartment. Take in my dry cleaning and mail and packages.
Make sure the maid was getting paid. That sort of thing.
It was really the smartest option.
“That’s actually a great idea,” I told him.
“You’re going to be making Cam your VP or whatever position is below yours, aren’t you?”
“I, ah, I was thinking that it might be nice to, you know, get a chance to enjoy my life a little bit.”
“Maybe you’ll enjoy some of that life in Navesink Bank?” he asked.
“I hear they have some of the best Italian in the tri-state area,” I said, smiling a bit at him.
“And the best coffee in the country,” he agreed. “I think it’s about time you get some time to live your life, sweetheart. And I think Cam will be more than capable of taking care of the business while you do that.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “He might even be better,” I said. “So… do you think Bellamy was being serious about the villa?” I asked.
“If there is anything I know about Bellamy, it’s that he is rarely serious about anything. But he is also very generous, so he will absolutely let us stay there if we want. I hear he also recently got an over-water villa in the Maldives. There’s a flat in Paris. An estate in Mexico.”
“We could do a world tour of Bellamy’s residences,” I said, smiling.
“If we toss in Fenway’s places, we could practically hit every country,” he agreed.
“I still can’t believe you know Fenway too. It’s such a small world.” I said, shaking my head.
“So that’s what you want to do?” Brock asked. “Travel?”
“I’ve never really gotten a chance to,” I admitted. “All this progress in my career. All this money. And all I really ever do is work and hang out around the city.”
“It sounds like it is time to enjoy what your hard work has provided you with.”
“It sounds like you’ve done a lot of traveling.”
“I have,” he agreed. “I can definitely show you the world,” he said, smirking at the cheesy Aladdin reference which I figured he made after learning that it had been my favorite Disney movie when I was growing up.
“That sounds perfect,” I said, smiling. “I mean, I know you have a life, but—“
“Honey, this is where being my company’s slacker comes in handy. They’re used to me taking off for a couple of weeks or months at a time. They will hardly know I’m missing.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. I mean, who else is going to sleep with the delivery woman’s girlfriends if not you?” I teased.
“Baby, I’m pretty sure that my sleeping with anyone but you days are behind me.”
“Only pretty sure?” I asked, not wanting to seem too needy, like I needed some grand commitment from him so soon. But also wanting to clarify that we were both on the same page, that we were past sleeping with other people, that we were heading somewhere serious.
“I never thought I would say this,” he said, putting down his coffee mug to reach for my hips and pull me closer. “But I don’t see myself ever wanting to even look at another woman again.”
“Yeah?” I asked, giving him a small smile.
“I mean, if you got to look at you all the time, would you want to look at anyone else?” he asked, giving me that boyish smirk that shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was.
“I kinda like looking at you too,” I told him, leaning into his body more.
“I mean… who could blame you?” he asked as his hands drifted up, then down my back, dipping dangerously low, but not quite low enough.
He’d been a bit of a saint since the attack.
The first night, we’d all crashed on the couch together.
The next, Cam and I passed out in my bed after a long talk, so he’d crashed on the couch again.
After that, I wasn’t sure what kept him from touching me. I guess because he was worried about my stitches. Or being pushy after a traumatic situation.
But I was over waiting.
And Cam was out.
My hands slid up his stomach, then chest, before wrapping around his neck as I went up on my tiptoes to seal my lips over his.
He let me take the lead at first.
But as his cock hardened against me, his lips took over, getting harder, more demanding.
Then his hands were on my ass, squeezing, pulling me more firmly against his hardness.
My hands were impatient, moving down over his chest again, then his stomach, feeling the muscles twitch under my touch.
A low rumbling sound moved through him as my hand slid under the waistband of his pants, my hand closing around him, and stroking.
He only let me touch him for a few seconds before he was grabbing me, yanking my silk pajama shorts and panties down my legs, then dropping to his knees in front of me.
Reaching for my leg, he pulled it up over his shoulder, so his tongue could trace up my cleft, could tease over my clit.
One of my hands slapped down on the counter behind him, steadying myself, and the other grabbed the back of his head, holding him to me, even though he showed no signs of wanting to pull away as he continued to work me, driving me up, pushing me toward that edge, then shoving me over it, leaving me to crash down into the orgasm that had my legs shaking and my moans ricocheting off the walls and cabinets in the kitchen.
He was up on his feet before the waves stopped crashing, grabbing me, turning me, and pressing me forward over the kitchen island.
I was vaguely aware of one of the drawers opening and closing, but couldn’t make any sense of that until I heard the crinkle of the condom foil.
But before I could even wrap my head around the fact that he was hiding condoms in my kitchen cabinets, though, I could feel his cock gliding up and down my cleft, then pressing against, and surging inside of me.
All rational thoughts flew out of my head at the feel of him spreading me again, buried deep inside of me.
Brock’s hands slid under the hem of my shirt, moving up my belly to close over my breasts, his fingers working my nipples into hardened buds as his cock stayed stubbornly still inside of me.
Impatient, my hips started to rock back into him.
“Fuck, you’re killing me, baby,” he hissed, his fingers pinching, sending a jolt of pain that had no right to be as sexy as it was.
“Fuck me, Brock,” I demanded.
Whatever control he’d been holding onto before snapped right then.
His hand sank into my hips, using them to slam me back into him as he thrust forward.
Hard.
Deep.
Driving me back up quickly, effortlessly.
Then sending me crashing through an orgasm so intense I swear I damn near blacked out for a second.
“Did you… pull a condom out of the linen napkin drawer?” I asked when I was able to think clearly again.
“Yeah I did,” he said, moving away from me, but not before giving my ass a slap.
“There’s also some in your coffee table.
The linen cabinet in the bathroom. In one of the sideboards.
Oh, and stashed in a few of your decorative vases.
Had to be prepared,” he told me, moving fully away, prompting me to grab my panties and pants, and settle them back into place.
“When did you do that?” I asked, wondering if it was before or after the attack.
“While you and Cam were doing your pedicures,” he told me. “Had to be prepared for when you were ready again.”
“I think I will pretty much always be ready for you,” I told him, shrugging it off.
“I know the feeling. Luckily, we got nothing but time now…”
Brock - 3 months
“That’s enough of that,” I said, reaching across the table to take the phone out of her hands.
It wasn’t like she was responding to some important work email. She was probably still trying to micromanage from afar. Despite the fact that Cam had taken over the leadership role in a way that suggested he’d been waiting for his chance to shine for a long time.