Epilogue #4
He hugs me. “You do. And you’re not gonna screw it all up, all right?
You’ve come so far to be the man you want to be.
I think you’re about there but—” He reels back and looks into my eyes, his shining now, too.
“Yeah, becoming a dad, that’ll be your final step. I think you’re meant for it, like me.”
I nod and stand, walking over to his giant skull-mirror, laughing, gazing at my fucked up reflection.
“Take a picture of this and send it to your friends, man, what a fuckin’ fright.
” The tissue I drag across my under-eye area does nothing to fight the smeared liner.
“They’ll want macho assholes to date their daughters after they see this. ”
He stands with an audible creak, throwing his arm over my shoulder. “Yeah, you might be right, but- they can keep ‘em. None of those fuckers are gonna end up with a son that’s about to go fucking platinum, I can tell you that!”
He grins, head nodding to my framed gold record on the wall, the one we have so many great tracks together on. I love how proud he is of me, and I know I’ll be standing with my son like this someday, too. Might be a while, but honestly, I can’t wait.
* * *
This morning, I’m grinning like an idiot since I have a settled nervous system and the best view in the world.
My face is buried in the sweetest place on earth, my beautiful birthday girl’s pussy, while she finishes up her final REM cycle.
I try my best to ignore the whining from our big fur baby, Zig, on the other side of the door.
He doesn't need to see this. This perfect view is for my eyes only.
Looking up, her face looks so peaceful and serene despite her flushed cheeks.
Her pink nightie is pushed up so my hand can graze over her pretty, perky tits before settling on her flat belly, fingers splayed open, warming the area like that will help get it ready.
I know it sounds mental, but I’m hoping a few months from now it won’t be flat at all anymore.
I never, ever had this kink before Matilda, that’s how I knew she was the one, and I’ve been waiting for so long I worry I won’t last more than a few seconds.
It’s her fucking birthday, you gotta last longer than that!
Keane grows impossibly hard at the thought of knocking her up today, and I gently rut him against the mattress of the ornate, vampiric monstrosity that is our marital bed.
I feel like God damn Dracula every morning when I wake up in it with my vampire queen.
“Mmmf, Jett…”
Her head turns this way and that on the pillow, eyes slowly blinking open.
It takes her a moment to realise what’s different about this particular wakeup.
She’s used to waking up with my head between her thighs more often than it isn’t, but never with her arms tied up quite like this.
Her left wrist is tied to where the ornately carved headboard meets the bedpost with a silky blue ribbon, her right wrist tied on the opposite side with a satiny pink ribbon.
“Good morning. Happy thirtieth birthday, princess.”
She moans as I crook my fingers inside her, brushing her sluttiest little G-spot again and again.
“Wha-what’s with the ties? She turns her head, practically panting, “Blue and pink?”
I grin. “All birthday parties need a game, Baby. Try and get out of the binds, the side you slip out of first will be the baby I’m putting inside you this morning.
Blue, pink, doesn’t matter to me, darling, just that you are going to get fucking pregnant today.
Enjoy your bubbles tonight because you won’t be having more for ’bout ten months. ”
“That’s not how any of this works!” She rolls her eyes at me, but they don’t roll back around the right way because my tongue is back on her clit, doing her favourite trick she calls ‘better than a vibrator.’ Her back arches off the bed, and her entire body trembles.
“Good birthday girl, that’s it. Soak my face, sweetheart.”
My perfect girl always does as she’s told, her juices dripping down my chin and onto the blood red silk sheets as she moans desperately, coming so hard she sounds delirious.
I sink my hand down heavier over her stomach, keeping her from writhing off the bed entirely.
Her body is jerking uncontrollably, but I can’t stop eating her like a starved man.
“I-I can’t, no more! Come up here, please!” she begs, and I move up, slapping my hand against the headboard.
“Mmm, I like it when my Baby begs. Were you a good girl for Daddy? No pills?”
“No pills for over a month and the app says I’m ovulating all weekend.”
“Oh, fuck. I really am the luckiest bloke alive. Sorry, if you wanted a lot of fun positions, you’ll have to wait till we get home from your party tonight. It’s time to be a good, vanilla missionary Mum and Dad. Tell me what you want, princess.”
“Keane. And say it. Now that you really mean it, fucking finally.”
“What?” I arch a devilish brow, sliding Keane through her slick.
“You know!” she huffs.
“Only if you admit you’re just as much of a weird, kinky, freaky deviant as I am!”
“I’m a freaky, kinky deviant, whatever, just fuck me, please! And say it. A bunch!”
I snicker and push her legs up so her feet point to the canopy above our heads. I slide the first few inches inside. “Mummy wants to make me a daddy for real this time.” She moans so loud the fabric of the canopy shakes like a leaf. “Oh, someone really wants that, don’t you, Baby?”