Bonus Epilogue
HENSON
For the past six months, Amira has been planning our wedding.
After we got engaged at Christmas, we barely made it five minutes before calling my mom and dad to share the news.
They already knew I was going to propose, but they didn’t know when.
Neither did I, to be honest. It just felt right in that moment, surrounded by her family, with her hand in mine and our hearts wide open.
Since then, Amira’s been in full-blown planner mode, working non-stop, balancing two major events this month alone. Her calendar is booked for months, and I don’t know how she hasn’t collapsed from exhaustion yet.
I keep reminding her to slow down, to breathe, but she’s stubborn as hell. Still, I’ve never been more proud of her. Watching her chase this dream, build it from the ground up… it’s the kind of ambition that makes me want to be better just so I can keep up.
We officially moved in together three months ago—my penthouse in downtown Seattle became ours. But once we get married and start the rest of our lives, we’ll both want something a little quieter. Maybe something with a backyard and space for a dog or more.
Right now, Amira’s at the dining table, surrounded by organized chaos: wedding magazines, linen samples, centerpiece mockups, and color swatches covering every inch of the wood. Her laptop’s open to a guest list spreadsheet. A discarded plate with half-eaten dinner sits off to the side.
I come up behind her and gently press my thumbs into her shoulders.
She lets out a moan, sinking into my touch.
“You need a break, baby.”
“I can’t.” Her voice is tight with focus. “I still need to finalize the signature cocktails, confirm the menu changes, and I haven’t even looked at the table numbers.”
“Amira.” A warning.
She pauses, fingers hovering over her keyboard, back straightening like she knows what that tone means.
I step away to sit on the couch, my gaze locked on her. “Come here, Temptress.”
Her eyes widen just a little. She shakes her head once, lips pressing into a defiant line.
That little spark of rebellion shoots straight to my cock.
I shift on the couch, adjusting myself as heat pulses low in my groin, tightening everything inside me. She doesn’t realize what she’s doing to me—how her stubbornness only turns me on more.
I spread my legs a little wider, my voice dropping. “Get on your knees, Amira.” I point right between my open thighs. “Then crawl to me.”
A teasing glint flashes in her eyes.
“And what if I don’t?”
My jaw tightens as I stare her down.
“That’s for you to find out,” I murmur, the promise in my voice undeniable. “Either way, your attitude won’t go unpunished. You decide how much. Come.” I gesture to the floor. “Here.”
Amira doesn’t move at first.
Her gaze searches mine, testing the weight of my words, like she’s fighting something inside herself. I can see the resistance, the heat, the temptation warring behind her eyes.
She shifts slightly, as if she might say no.
But then her gaze drops and, slowly, she sinks to her knees.
The moment her palms press to the floor, something primal stirs in my chest.
Amira lingers there for a second longer, as if making sure I see this is her choice.
Then—finally—she begins to crawl toward me, never breaking eye contact.
And fuck if it isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
My breathing deepens. My hands flex on the back of the couch, knuckles going white as I fight the urge to just pull her into me and take everything.
By the time Amira reaches me, my cock is throbbing, and I already know I’m not going to be gentle.
She stops between my knees, her hands resting on her thighs, head tilted up, daring me to make the next move.
I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers graze her cheek, trail down the side of her jaw, her breath catching when I let my thumb brush over her bottom lip.
“You don’t even know what you do to me,” I murmur.
Amira’s lips part around my thumb and I slide it into her mouth. Her tongue presses to the pad of it, and my cock throbs so hard I have to grit my teeth to keep from groaning.
I slide my hand into her hair, gently tugging her head back so I can look down at her properly. Her mouth is pink, her eyes heavy, chest rising and falling like she’s struggling to stay composed.
“Take it out,” I command, gesturing to my cock.
Amira hesitates, only for a breath, then her hands move to my zipper, her fingers brushing against me through the fabric, and my entire body tenses. When she frees me, I hiss under my breath, the cool air hitting me a contrast to her warm skin.
My other hand moves down to my belt, sliding the leather free from the loops. Amira’s eyes dart up, watching.
I wrap the belt around her neck, tight enough for her to feel it. To remind her who’s in charge.
She gasps as I stunt her breathing, and the sound travels up my spine like a bolt.
“What a good future wife.” My fingers graze her jaw as I hold the ends of the belt gently in my fist. “Now open for me.”
To be continued…