Epilogue #2
Throwing him a look, she obeyed, making nice even though it taxed her dwindling social reserves. For his part, he kept his promise, behaving with a decorousness that had some of the men rolling their eyes, but his sparrow grew tenser and tenser, because she had felt how hard he was and knew.
It was the anticipation that he craved.
She was trembling when they collected their coats and he draped hers over her shoulders, his hands lingering as they made their goodbyes.
On the drive home, she began breathing harshly.
When he put his hand on her thigh, idly tracing the lace pattern on her stockings that looked so delicate that it might crumble beneath his heated fingers like ice, she made a noise.
Cal rallied his control, keeping his voice staid and even as they walked up to the front door. “I’ll take the sitter home. You can get ready for bed.”
Their sitter was a nineteen-year-old girl they had found through an ad. Her prices were reasonable, and she was saving up for a car to drive to and from her college classes. She never said much—not to him—but she watched them both, in a way he didn’t particularly care for.
It wasn’t disrespectful, exactly, but there was a curiosity buried there, like the seed to an invasive plant. If nourished, it would sprout and then the usual questions would arise.
“How was the party?” she asked, and he responded, “It was fine, thank you. Do you have all your things?”
If she spoke to him, he didn’t remember; as a rule, he discouraged personal questions.
“Thank you, Mr. Cullraven,” she said, her voice low as she remained seated a beat too long when they pulled up to her parents’ house.
He didn’t respond, waiting until she had made it to her door, looking back all the while, before spinning his car away from the pavement.
No matter what anyone else believed, there was no one more suited to him than his wife.
On the way to the bedroom, he stopped at his daughter’s room, looking down at her sweet, sleeping face.
She had her mother’s pale eyes, though there was a darker cast to them that suggested they could one day turn green or blue.
Though the Cullraven hazel had skipped over her, she had inherited his dark, wavy hair, and the dimple in his cheek.
Impulsively, he reached down, touching that impossibly tiny hand, and smiled when it wrapped around his finger and squeezed.
“Your mother wants to spare you the legacy we saved you from,” he murmured, watching the little Anne-Nicole sleep. “It is a twisted, terrible thing, and no child should be forced to bear it. But perhaps one day, when you’re older, she’ll let me tell you the story of how she saved me.”
He pulled away, carefully, letting her small hand drop back to the crib.
Nadine was still wearing her dress but she had taken off her makeup, her bare face wet and a little pink from being scrubbed. It got pinker when he grabbed her from behind and pressed his mouth to her throat, catching the chain of her necklace between his teeth. He tugged at it, gently.
“Run,” he purred.
Nadine froze, still holding her toothbrush. Gripping it like a sword now. “I’m still dressed for the party.”
“Yes, you are, my love—and, unfortunately, far too over dressed for our little game.” He tugged at the fabric, biting her shoulder beneath the bra strap as her neckline strained around her breasts. “You know the rules. I want to have to catch my breath before I fuck you.”
Nadine inhaled sharply. Then she turned and fled down the hall.
He gave her five seconds before chasing after her.
Cal had bought this house years ago; it had received many add-ons before the owner tired of his project and sold. The master bedroom was at the top of the house, with a hall that dead-ended into several bedrooms before branching off to the lower floors.
Nadine had been fucked in every room and stairwell of this house. He tried to be sporting about it, but she never really tried that hard to get away.
He caught her on the sun porch with a triumphant laugh, one arm firmly banded around her middle.
She struggled viciously, throwing out an elbow.
It stung but he managed to hook his leg between hers, knocking them both to the floor.
With a growl, he hoisted himself on top of her, his knees stinging, chest bruised.
“You want me to have you outside?”
“No!” she protested, when he yanked at her bodice. A stitch popped so he yanked harder, until there was a second, louder rip and her swollen breasts spilled free.
“God,” he said reverently. “Fucking look at you.”
“Cal—” She could barely talk, she was so breathless and flushed. “Someone might see.”
He ignored that, releasing the front clasp of her bra. Her breasts had always been sensitive; nursing had made them more so, her puffy, swollen nipples already peaked in the delicate evening breeze.
She saw his look. “Don’t.”
“Try and stop me,” he responded mildly.
She tried to squirm away and he let her get as far as the walkway before dragging her back to the house. They had few neighbors. There was no one to see him sling his half-denuded wife over one shoulder like a Roman conqueror, while she screeched and pounded at his back.
He reached up and smacked her between her thrashing legs and felt her gasp in outrage.
Their baby was still asleep so he didn’t bring her into the house, but back to the porch, dragging her onto his lap as he sat on the stair and putting his mouth to her bared breast as he freed himself from his trousers.
She squirmed in embarrassment when he yanked her wrists behind her back, and protested, “Daddy, please.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t love the state you’re in now, my wicked little love.
” He laved the swollen tip of her nipple with his tongue while massaging her other breast. “You let me catch and breed you, and I did that, filling you again and again.” He ran his hand possessively over her round belly.
“You made me a father, just as you were made for this.”
Nadine turned away, flushed and panting, as he turned to her other nipple. The reddened surface was glossy and wet. When he squeezed gently, a pearlescent bead of milk welled from the tip. Cal bent and took her into his mouth entirely, sucking until she moaned.
He released her wrists. Then she was clawing at him, yanking at his shirt until he was obliged to remove it for her. Through eyes shuttered with pleasure, she watched him undress.
“Do you miss it?” she whispered, and he looked at her sharply.
“Miss what?”
“Ravensgate. The legacy.” Her eyes slid away. “Your family.”
“I have a family.” She writhed as he rolled up her skirt. She wasn’t wearing underwear and though he’d only plied her lips and breasts with his attentions, her cunt was already wet. “I have a legacy.” He reached between them, rolling his thumb over her clit. “I have you.”
“But—”
Cal lifted her bodily onto his jutting erection so he could rock into her, hard enough that her whole body shook and her thighs trembled around his hips.
“I have you,” he repeated, panting. His pace was leisurely as he alternated angle and depth.
“My one and only love, mother to my daughter who will never know death’s circling shadow. ”
Nadine clawed at him, riding him the way she did so well, her swollen belly putting new distance between them as he gazed into her eyes.
“I’m sorry that you have.”
Her eyes became as soft as mist. She leaned in, making him groan, and kissed him as she milked his cock with her thighs, riding him in rough, even strokes that had him gripping the boards beneath their moving bodies until it felt as if the wood might splinter.
“Fuck,” he gasped, head falling back.
This was what he had always wanted. And though the future seemed at times uncertain, she would surprise herself, he suspected, the way she did everyone else. The way she had first surprised him, when his blood had first risen at the sight of a lonely girl with sad grey eyes.
“Make me soar,” she urged him.
So he did.
The end