Epilogue
Ava
The realization happens at 8 A.M. in a bathroom mirror.
I’m drying off from a warm shower when I catch a glimpse of myself through the condensation and steam. I double take. I scrub the water away from the glass, trying to see through the blur. I touch my face, tracing the contours of my face as the water pools in thick droplets. My fingertips follow the curves of my cheeks, which came back full and high, and are now slimming from the gradually shedding baby weight.
My hair hangs in dark, curling curtains around my face again, boasting over a year’s worth of growth since that last drastic cut. It’s been given a new luster and shape with a little care. There’s a brightness in my eyes that shows even through the hot fog and forgotten smile lines that dimple the corners of my mouth.
I recognize her.
I stare at myself in the mirror, the drenched and waterlogged girl washed up from the waves. But she’s alive, and she’s not drowning anymore. She’s finally stretched on the hot sand, basking in the sun. At peace.
There’s no guilt hidden in the shadows of my eyes, and my grief is like a keepsake box, tucked high on a shelf and packed full of fond memories instead of bad ones. The girl in the mirror is someone Vinny would be proud of.
I’m not the only one who’s had some changes for the better.
In the half a year since becoming a father, Nico is almost on the verge of getting along with Salvatore. Or at least, the most they argue about lately is which one of our kids will beat up the other one more, and maybe a running bet on who will have the next one first. Tessa and I might feign insulted, but when Nico sweeps me back to the bedroom with a flimsy excuse about one-upping his brother, I have no complaints there .
And I find myself there again one afternoon, melting in his dark heat. Married, I thought maybe Nico’s urge to own me would be sated. Because he does. There’s nothing left for him to claim that he doesn’t already have, no part of me I wouldn’t give up to him. But with my back against the mattress and my legs around his waist, Nico takes me like he’s never had me before.
When we first fell back into bed together, I had the lights off and buried us under the covers. I was mortified of having him see me once I wasn’t pregnant, and just dealing with the aftermath of it. But Nico is tenacious, and he wants what he wants, and he gets me naked in a strip of sunlight this morning, and he worships every pale white stretch mark and fading vein, and eventually, I forget any reason to be ashamed or embarrassed.
And his genuine enthusiasm is obvious, straining heavy against his briefs.
Hot blood pumps in my veins as we kiss, the mattress dipping harshly as he traps me beneath him and kisses the breath right out of my lips. I cup his face, fingers trailing down to trace the new, dark ink swirling across his skin. My name swirls across his neck in dark, cursive letters, the tattoo still fresh enough to shine a little in the light.
When Nico first surprised me with the tattoo, when it was still pink around the edges, I was shocked. “Nico, that’s forever ,” I had said, stupidly. But he just grinned and said,
“So are we.”
And now, every time I look at it, I love it, and think: forever .
I never thought I would be the type of girl to have her name permanently etched on a man’s body, but then, I never thought I would end up with a man like Nico. He turns me onto my side and lifts my leg, scrubbing his huge hand against my pussy and circling it. I moan, clutching the pillow and steadying my breath as I focus on the constant swirl of his palm.
Ever since we started having sex again, Nico has been gentle. We’ve taken it slow, learning all the ways to make love to another person. Feeling them move against you, with your fingers locked together and the pressure hitting so deep, it rockets up to your heart.
Orgasms that bring tears to your eyes for how much they say, when the air is filled with nothing but heavy breathing.
But today, with Nico worshipping me head to toe, my pussy already throbbing, my thoughts twisted like a cat in heat—I want all of him. Everything he can give me, heart and mind.
I spread my legs, draping one over his shoulder as I grind my pussy up against his stiff, clad erection.
“Don’t hold back.”
His muscles ripple, his breath catching.
“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he growls, the low tension in his voice burning like red coals. And I must truly love this man, because I believe him and I love feeling his hands roam over my body, dappled in sunlight, even when they trace the fading stretch marks that glisten in the sun.
He replaces the heavy swirl of his palm with the attentive, pinpoint feathering of his fingertips as they smother my clit. The pressure is firm and deep one moment, sending the pulsing heat deep into my hips, and then feather-light and fast the next, sparking every nerve ending and setting off fireworks inside me. We kiss occasionally between waves of pleasure, my hips lifting into his hand as I beg him for more, with my eyes, my mouth, the tilt of my pelvis.
My head falls back as he switches it up, burying two fingers inside me and finger-fucking me fast and relentless. I ride the pleasure of his fingers thrumming inside me, and when I try to moan, he snatches the sound from my lips with his own.
“Nico,” I warn him, but he eases off, kissing a line down my body again.
A tiny babble rises from the nursery. Nico and I both freeze. The sound of Cade moving around quiets and calms. We stare at each other, frozen in the moment, expressions still as a portrait, neither of us breathing. No crying starts up. Nico arches an eyebrow at me, and I grin in return.
“Okay, come on, you have to be quick,” I whisper, for no reason.
“Never heard that from a girl before.”
But his boxers are already down, a half-laugh spilling from my lips as I pull him over me. I want this. Want him. The urgency only fuels us, makes the wanting burn hotter when we know that it can stripped away at any time.
I groan as he drags my hips down the mattress, right to him. He wedges me underneath him, tilts my hips back at an angle, and pushes my legs back around my head. Oh, fuck. I squirm, feeling just how pinned I am like this, my knees hooked around his shoulders.
This feels familiar. Like being at his mercy.
“ Please ,” I beg, urging him.
Playing with Nico is like playing with fire, and finally it burns so sweet and hot, and I’m burning up in him as he strokes his cock inside me. And Nico might not be fighting anymore, but he keeps in shape, and his stamina still leaves me bouncing for long, blinding stretches of relentless thrusting. Pleasure hammers right up into my belly, and in this position, I can’t move at all, can’t meet him, can’t shift the angle.
My eyes roll back as I am completely pinned beneath him, taking his huge cock between my legs, rapid fire and pounding, until my thighs shake like gelatine. I’m caught in his sheer power. He grunts deeply, finally slowing to a few long, slow strokes as the world tilts and spins around me.
I’m so fucking close.
He kisses me, making sure I’m alright before he starts the next wave.
My hand drags down his chest, and I love looking at him like this, this crazy, steep angle where he towers over me, all muscle and abs, down to the dark hair that disappears between my legs.
And I can feel him there, buried tight and hot toward my belly, stroking so deep.
As he starts to move faster again, I meet his gaze. Ever since we started having sex again, Nico always pulls out. Our general attitude is that we aren’t trying to prevent anything, but we aren’t trying to avoid it either.
And this time, I hold his gaze and say, “Come inside me.”
Nico freezes.
My pussy throbs deeply, squeezing that huge cock as if saying the exact same thing, begging for him to keep going. I tighten around him, clenching hard and deep until his throat bobs. “Nico,” I beg him, feet twisting and toes curled in the air. “Nico, come inside me.”
And God, the way he fucks me. Quick, deep strokes that roll his whole pelvis against mine. My legs shake, the world around me crumbling into an earthquake of pleasure. Fuck, fuck. And this, this is how Nico fucks when he’s trying to get me pregnant. He puts a sweet, heavy pressure on my clit while his cock hammers inside me, until the pleasure outside and inside meet like gasoline and fire. My thoughts blank.
I want to come off the mattress, want to arch and twist and roil against the pleasure breaking inside of me, as if I can’t take how good it feels, torn apart by sheer ecstasy. But I can’t move, his huge weight and pounding hips keeping me pinned until I’m crying out and coming hard, Nico’s pounding cock tripping a circuit in my mind. We lock in that tight moment where I take everything that he gives me, where pleasure rushes through me as hard and fast as his cum.
I’m filled deep, and Nico doesn’t pull out until he gives me every last drop.
Nico collapses on top of me, showering me in kisses that he doesn’t even have the breath for. I love it when he’s like this. When the fantasy gets to him and he can’t help himself, left raw and ragged in the moment. We cling to each other, enjoying the last cooling moments on top of the sheets, as I close my legs and really let the pleasure sink in.
He rubs a hand over my belly, and an aftershock of my orgasm pulses between my legs, making me moan.
“I love you,” he says, as if he means it just as much as that first time.
“I love you, too.”
I know that Nico is going to ask me to marry him—again, if we’re being technical about it. That he’s going to do it all properly, with a proposal and a ring and a wedding. With his body stretched over mine, and running my hand along his back, I think about how I hope he does it soon. I want to show him that I choose him, and that I will keep choosing him, over and over, every day.
THE END