Epilogue
Amanda
1 hour later
G oing with the theme of simpler was better, we spent our wedding night not in the big city. Not in a posh hotel suite in the penthouse. Not even in a villa on the coast somewhere.
My new husband had purchased a luxury cottage on a private plot of land not far from the wedding chapel. We weren’t totally alone in the cottage, as there was a security guard stationed at the gate out front, and another who roamed the walled-in grounds.
But they weren’t to come inside the cottage unless it was an emergency. They had their own guest house a country mile from our cottage. This made it as close to a secluded getaway as a world-famous billionaire and his new wife could get.
He carried me up the steps to the wraparound porch. I gasped at how lovely everything was. It was like a good witch’s cottage from a storybook come to life. Everything had a painted, pastel veneer that somehow complimented the autumn landscape, rather than clashing with it.
“It’s beautiful,” I said with a sigh.
“It’s also locked,” he said, trying to open the door awkwardly while also holding me aloft .
“Um, it’s a smart cottage. You insisted on that.”
I gestured toward the screen set into the wall beside the door.
“Oh, right. Door, open.”
The door lock popped, and then the door swung open mechanically. I guess it wasn’t as quaint as it looked after all.
Inside, I was treated to a cozy den with a fire already built in the huge natural stone hearth. A faux bearskin rug lay in front of it, looking so inviting I couldn’t stand it.
“Would you like to see the pool out back? Or maybe the fully stocked kitchen—”
In response, I kissed him hard. He kissed me back, carrying me over to the bearskin rug. He knelt down, never breaking our lip lock, and laid me on the rug.
I smiled up at him as he unbuttoned his shirt. The V at his neck split wider, revealing his chiseled, tanned physique. I reached up and caressed his exposed skin with my gloved hand. Evan doffed his shirt, and as he slid it off his shoulders I went to work on his belt buckle.
I undid his trousers, and then he stood up so I could pull them off. His cock sprang into view, already hard and pointed up at me.
I caressed his cock with my gloved hand, knowing the satiny feel would be amazing. He made a sexy groan and caressed the back of my head. I knew what he wanted so I gave it to him. He totally deserved it. Evan loved me so much and I wanted to return the favor. I wanted him to feel as loved as I did.
I took the tip of his cock inside of my mouth, carefully holding his gaze as I did so. I could feel his pulse throbbing in my mouth as I slid my tongue along the underside of his crown. He moaned, his eyes squeezing shut as I suckled gently.
He was so turned on, it didn’t take much. I barely stroked his rod three times before he came in my mouth. A little bit dribbled down my chin, and he heroically wiped it off with his handkerchief.
“You are so beautiful.”
“I bet you say that to all the women you’ve married who are on their knees with your cock in their mouth.”
He laughed and caressed my cheek lovingly.
“You don’t have it in your mouth at the moment.”
“That can be remedied.”
I took his cock back into my mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a deep groan as I slid my tongue all along the underside of his crown.
“I love that so much,” he gasped. “I love you so much.”
I melted at his words, but his cock only grew harder and harder. I reached up with my free hand and cradled his balls. Evan’s eyes squeezed shut as he tilted his head back. His hand went to the back of my head, fingers interweaving with my hair.
“You’re so good at that, my sweet,” he cried.
Only because he deserved it. I wanted to make him feel good, because he made me feel good. Every hour of every day.
I never would have thought that the ice-cold Evan Jones I’d met all that time ago would turn into this sensual, passionate, and loving being. I supposed it was as my friend Jennifer said. It wasn’t that Evan changed into this man. It was more that he was always this man on the inside. I just helped coax the real Evan Jones to the surface.
I came off his crown, gasping for air. I kept my hands busy, stroking his shaft with one and fondling his sack with the other. His eyes met my own, and I loved the way he looked at me. Like I was his dream come true.
I ran my tongue along the side of his shaft, teasing him a little before I plunged the crown back into my mouth. I let go of his shaft and slowly took as much of his length as I could. I kept eye contact up until the very end, when he went in fully deep and I gagged a little.
I came off of him and grinned, again catching my breath.
“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet.”
I went after his missile, but he leaned me back onto the rug instead.
“I’d rather put it someplace else.”
He slid his hand up my thigh, causing ripples of fiery pleasure to pulse through my body. I cried out as he stroked my soaking wet panties, finding the grove of my pussy.
I pulled out of the straps of my dress and then shimmied out while trying not to interfere with the amazing things he was doing down below. He knew how to stroke and tease my clit in just the right way. Not too much at first, just some light caresses in the vicinity, building up to more direct stimulation.
By the time he pulled my panties down around my ankles, I was so ready to go. I laid back on the rug, the soft fur feeling good on my naked skin. My blood thundered through my veins, fiery as the crackling hearth nearby. Evan looked down at me with a look of perfect, pure desire.
“There’s no other woman in the world for me,” he growled low in his throat. “There never could be, now. You are the love of my life.”
“You’re so sweet,” I said, feeling a glow in my chest unlike no other. “Most guys don’t say things like that after they get a blow job.”
His response was to push my thighs apart and kneel between them. I cried out as he slid the head of his cock through the groove of my pussy, getting it wet with my ample juices.
“I’m going to stuff my hot new wife full of hard cock,” he growled .
I wasn’t about to complain. He slid himself inside of me. I moaned as he slowly stretched me, filling me with his throbbing member. I loved the way he felt inside of me. Our eyes met as he slid in all the way. I gasped, my hands going to his chest and kneading his powerful muscles.
Speaking of muscles, he pistoned his hips like a champion. My mouth flew open as I sucked in a ragged gasp of air. I let it out as a long, undulating moan. Evan leaned in closer, clasping me in his embrace. He pumped his hips in short but sensual and strong thrusts while he kissed my neck and shoulder.
I convulsed hard, my pussy caressing his cock as if it wanted to keep it as a pet. He felt so good inside of me. My scream of climax split the air. I closed my eyes against the fireworks exploding behind them as a ribbon of pure pleasure unwound itself through my whole being.
He continued to thrust away, rearing up onto his knees. He pulled me into him tighter and put my legs up on his shoulders. Then he leaned forward, his body weight adding impetus to every thrust.
I opened my mouth to let out a deep, guttural groan. I’d already cum so many times already, my body was finely tuned to find the utmost pleasure. Everything felt amazing, his hands on my hips, his body heat, the feel of the soft rug beneath me, and the warmth coming from the fire in the hearth.
“I love you so fucking much,” he growled in a guttural tone. His body was taut as a bowstring against me, straining as he gave himself fully over to his desires.
There’s a look a man gets when he surrenders to his desire, when he stops pretending that he’s not trying to get off just as much as you are. Evan’s face took on that aspect, a primal grimace of ecstasy and being fully in the moment with me that was impossible to fake. It was the realest thing I’d ever seen, felt, and experienced on a spiritual level .
We came at the same time, his cock throbbing inside of me as he filled me with his seed. I thrashed about as much as the pile driver position would allow, my arms going over my head as pulse after pulse of shuddering pleasure thundered through my body.
At last I lay there, panting heavily. He let go of my legs and gently laid me on my side. Evan lay beside me, curling his body up to spoon my own.
He wrapped his arms around me, cupping my breasts in a crisscross pattern. I laid my head on his biceps and panted, my body slowly coming back from the perfect golden cloud of pleasure I’d been taken up into.
I snuggled up against him, sighing contentedly. Evan’s breath was warm on the back of my neck as he left a gentle kiss there.
“I love you so much, my darling.” His voice was as soft as the fur beneath us. “I love you so very much. Thank you for being my wife.”
“Thank you for letting me be, for real this time.” I kissed his hand and then wriggled my bottom against him. I kept wriggling, a smile spreading on my face. I felt his cock twitch, hard. Then it began to engorge in blood.
“You’re insatiable.”
“That is so not true,” I said. “You haven’t even tried hard enough to be saying that yet.”
“And how hard do I have to try?” he mumbled into my skin. He trailed kisses along my neck, his hands massaging my breasts freely.
“I don’t know,” I gasped. “I would think that going to dawn might be a bit extreme, as the sun hasn’t even set yet, but you know… oh God, that feels so good… twelve hours, maybe.”
“Twelve hours?” he cried.
“You’re not man enough to go for that long?” I taunted .
“I guess I can slum it and go down to that level,” he said with a shrug.
I gasped, but then he kissed my neck and slid a hand down between my thighs, and I lost all interest in trying to taunt him any further. He slipped his cock into my pussy, sliding it in deep.
He rolled me over onto my stomach and then pumped his hips into my ass. I let out a guttural groan as he thrust into me again and again, picking up speed. Golden electricity built up in my body to a crescendo until I was certain that I was going to explode.
I let out a warbling sound, modified by the syncopated rhythm of his thrusting pelvis. My eyes rolled back into my head and I let out a shrill cry as he pounded me right over the edge of another incredible orgasm. The contractions seemed to vibrate me into another state of being, it was so good.
I don’t know how many hours we actually went, but I’m pretty sure twelve was a conservative estimate. Let’s just say we made up for our disappointing fake wedding night and then some.
Amanda
3 years later
T here was an old phrase I remember hearing as a child. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes—fill in the blank with the name of whatever kid we wanted to make fun of that day at recess—with a baby carriage.
Well, as it turns out, that’s a pretty logical progression. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Evan and I went at it like rabbits. In any event, I don’t think we were married for a month and a half when I got pregnant.
Knocked up, as it were. I hadn’t been expecting it to happen so soon, but don’t get me wrong. It was the happiest news I’d ever gotten in my life.
Evan started strutting around like a proud poppa while our child was barely more than a zygote in my belly. He wasted no time in telling everyone. He did the whole bit, passing out cigars and drinking bourbon and slapping other men on the back.
For me, I was a bit afraid. I wasn’t sure I would be a good mother. I am told by lots of women, Jennifer included, that such things are normal for an expectant mother. Jennifer told me there would be something wrong if I wasn’t at least thinking about how my life would change when the baby was born, if not necessarily freaking out about it.
Me, I was freaking out about it all right. Jennifer said that there was no reason why I should be worried. I countered that I’d never been the most nurturing person in the world. She told me that I was trying to nurture the Earth itself. I found this to be rather pretentious and called her out on it.
Jennifer just smiled and said that I would figure out how to be a good parent all on my own. I had everything it took, she said.
Still, I tried to direct my nervous energy to productive areas. I did my research, and then some. Just about every book on babies and expectant mothers out there got added to my Amazon shopping list. I also did a ton of research on the web, though after about your one thousandth mommy blog, you realize they’re all pretty much the same.
I decided that the best thing I could do for our family was to prepare the environment. To that end, I wanted to have a literature-rich environment, which the library in the manor certainly provided.
On the other hand, I was afraid of living way outside of the city. I was afraid that if something happened, we’d be too far away from the hospital to make everything okay. For the first several months of pregnancy, I kept this anxiety to myself.
Eventually I told Evan, and he made me wish I’d said something from the get-go. He put his arms around me and told me it would all be okay.
He also told me that whatever I needed to feel better, he would provide, with no questions asked. He kept to his word, too, no matter how outlandish my prenatal demands grew.
I was worried that the manor couldn’t be childproofed, so we moved into a condo downtown when I got pregnant with Stan.
Yes, it was a big change, but the fact was we both had jobs to do. The centralized location of our condo—he went and bought the whole building, of course, and then sublet everything except the top three floors we lived in—made it easy for both of us to get to our respective offices.
The work was not done. We still had to save the rainforest. Some of the governments in South America had become less receptive to conservation efforts, and we had to fight harder than ever to keep the world’s lungs breathing.
I knew we were going to win, though. With Evan’s brand recognition adding impetus to the cause, things were looking better already.
On a gloriously sunny Saturday, I sat on the veranda enjoying the outdoors. The city moved on below us, but my eyes were only on my toddler son. Stan already looked a lot like his father, though his nose sort of resembled my own.
Like his father, Stan liked to take a lot of risks. We’d already added netting around the veranda railing just in case he somehow managed to scale the four feet. He got into everything. I liked to joke that his pudgy body hid the fact he was really a housecat in disguise.
Stan squealed and jumped around in circles. He’d discovered a bird’s feather, probably from a pigeon. He picked it up and thrust it in the air as he jumped.
It took me a moment to realize what he was trying to do, and I just couldn’t help but laugh. Evan came out of the house, carrying a tray with iced tea for us and chocolate milk for our toddler son.
“What’s he doing?” Evan asked.
“He’s trying to fly. He found a bird feather and now he’s trying to figure out how to fly himself.”
“I think I remember doing that when I was a kid,” Evan said, his lips twisted into a frown.
“I’ll just bet that you did.”
Stan raced across the veranda, using his makeshift ‘wings’ to try and achieve what the Wright Brothers had all those years ago in Kittyhawk. That name always seemed kind of suspect to me. I mean, the place where planes first took flight just happened to have the word Hawk in it? It was like Alicia Keys being a pianist, or Harry Shearer being a barber. It just seemed too convenient.
Stan decided that the best way to achieve flight was to get some altitude from the get-go. I cringed as he raced up the steps to the top of the playground structure.
“Oh no.” I moved forward a half step. “Tell me he isn’t going to jump off the side.”
“He probably is, but don’t worry. Those shredded tires are a pretty good surface to land on.”
“What if he breaks his neck?”
Too late for me to do anything about it, Stan jumped off the structure. He flapped his arms on the way down, then landed in a crouch on the shredded tires. He sprang right back up to his feet, flapping his arms anew.
“See? He’s fine.”
“I swear that he gets this insane risk-taking from you. You or your side of the family. No way would someone on my side of the family be this rash.”
“You say rash, I say brave. ”
“You say potato, I say potat-toe,” I said with a snicker. “I’m not worried, if you want to know the truth. I somehow know it’s all going to work out for us.”
“Yeah,” Evan said, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Me, too.”
I leaned into his warm embrace and sighed in contentment. We watched our son play, whooping and hollering fit to wake the dead. I had no idea how he got so much energy. He made me tired just watching him play.
Then, my son noticed that Evan had arrived. He dropped the feathers and squealed with delight.
“Daddy!”
Stan ran over and threw himself into a hug round Evan’s legs. Evan almost dropped the tray, but I rescued it in the nick of time.
“Mommy!”
Stan hugged me next, throwing himself into my lap.
I hugged my son back, and then Evan knelt down and hugged us both. Life was perfect, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Amanda
6 months later
I closed my eyes so that the perky makeup girl could doll me up a little bit more. I already wore so many layers of cosmetics I felt like a clown. Yet I knew better than to complain. Her job was to make me look good in front of a camera, and there would be a lot of people watching.
I found the whole experience amusing, if you want to know the truth, because when I was pretending to be Evan’s fake wife I was regularly doused with large amounts of makeup. Not to mention things like clothespins holding my garments tightly across my midsection to as not to show so much as a single wrinkle.
I supposed that after living a couple of years relatively free of the media spotlight I was a bit apprehensive about going back under it. I knew it was for a worthy cause, though. I mean, causes don’t come much worthier than saving the freaking planet.
So, I sat there and endured while she patted a bit more foundation here, a little lip gloss there, and fussed with my eyelash extensions until I wanted to scream.
“You have such great skin,” the perky girl said, a smile etched on her impish little face. “I hardly have to do any work at all.”
I couldn’t stop a chuckle before it bubbled out of my throat.
“If you call this hardly any work at all, I’d hate to see what you do to people who you think don’t have great skin.”