Epilogue
Rosie
Three months later
“Half-caff mocha for Lily, iced chocolate for Summer,” I call out, sliding the drinks across the counter to two students I recognize from Ridge College. Lily carries a little boy on her hip and gives me a happy smile before taking her coffee.
Over her shoulder, I see the door to Brewed Awakening open, and a familiar stern Daddy strolls in. It’s the middle of the day, but instead of his usual T-shirt and jeans, he’s wearing a preppy polo shirt and khakis.
The outfit doesn’t succeed in hiding his muscles, but it tries. The haircut I gave him last night in his kitchen helps, too. He looks very. . .nice.
He stops in front of the counter and gives me a slow, sexy grin. “Hello, beautiful.”
“Welcome to Brewed Awakenings. What can I get for you?” There’s an eagerness in my voice I don’t bother to try and hide.
“When's your break?”
“It’s overdue by almost an hour, but we were slammed.” I glance at my co-worker, who waves me on. “I can take it now.”
Daniel glances at the display cabinet. “Can I have a brownie, too?”
You can have whatever you want.
I ring him up and then pour us a glass of iced coffee to share.
People are used to seeing us being all lovely-dovey. Daniel either drops me off at work, comes in for a visit mid-shift, or picks me up.
Sometimes all three.
We kept our relationship secret for four weeks. It was so hard to sleep apart from him that, in the end, I told my parents in an unexpected blurt over breakfast.
And then I went to school and to Daniel’s that night. I got a terse, one-word reply when I sent a text letting my mom know I’d be gone for the weekend.
Understood.
We haven’t talked much about it since. I spend most nights at Daniel’s house, and they expect me home for Sunday dinner at the very least.
But the closer I get to graduation, the less it matters what they think.
What really matters is how right it feels to be open about my relationship with Daniel.
He leads me outside to the courtyard beside the coffee shop. We have it to ourselves. He holds out a chair for me, then scoots his own chair closer to mine so he can play with my ponytail as we share the brownie.
This. This is what matters.
“How’s your day going?” I give an appreciative once-over of his nice outfit. “Business meeting?”
“Not exactly.” Now his fingers drift to the back of my neck and the gold chain. “I was going to wait and tell you at home tonight, but I’ve waited long enough.”
“What are you—” And then I realize.
The nice clothes.
The hair cut.
The fact he’s taking off my necklace. . .
My breath catches in my throat. I search his face. “Daniel?”
“I went to see your parents this morning. I took flowers for your mom and a bottle of scotch for your dad. I told them that I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life making you happy.”
“Oh. . .” The diamond solitaire lifts off my chest and glints in the sun before he captures it in his hand, and then it’s out of sight. “How did they take it?”
He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “They knew I wasn’t asking their permission.”
I’m trembling, my chest full of butterflies. “No,” I breathe. “I’m yours no matter what.”
“That’s right.” His expression is serious and unwavering. “But if you’re wearing my ring by Sunday, I’m invited to dinner.”
A surprised gasp escapes my chest. “Oh. Oh.”
“So I needed to steal your necklace as soon as possible, you see.”
“Right.”
“I know this isn’t how it’s done, exactly. I should surprise you—”
I cut him off with a kiss. This is perfect. This is exactly how it should be done. With honest, earnest communication. Non-stop touches. And sharing a brownie in the afternoon sun.
He still manages to surprise me, though. I don’t work on Friday, and I don’t have class until the afternoon, so when he wakes up and leaves for work, I lounge in bed a bit, reading.
Then I go downstairs, thinking I have the whole house to myself.
And by whole house, I mean. . .Daniel’s place is massive.
There are four generous bedrooms upstairs, but that’s only part of the second floor.
Downstairs is a combination big kitchen and family room, with a large great room behind that.
Above the great room is another set of rooms. Melanie’s room is up there, and now that she’s moved out, Daniel’s home office is up there, too.
As I’m making coffee, I hear a faint noise coming from up there, so I go to investigate.
His office is empty. I take a different set of stairs down then I took up—again, the house is massive—and wind up at the front of the house, in the foyer.
There’s a glittering chandelier above me, and it’s not on right now, but the sunlight coming in the window catches the crystals, making them look like they’re on fire.
The first time I came here as a teenager, I thought Melanie was the luckiest girl in the world.
The first time I came back after Vegas, it really hit me that Daniel wanted to share this space with me, too. That I was that lucky girl as well.
I do a little pirouette under the chandelier, giggling to myself.
And when I stop, facing the kitchen again, I realize the family room is filled with pink balloons.
Shiny ones, like we picked out for Mel’s bridal suite.
“Where did. . .” I trail off as I move fully into the space and realize Daniel is down on one knee in the center of the room. “You didn’t leave!”
“I had something important to do this morning.”
I glide over to him, feeling like I’m floating on air. “Oh?”
“Rosie Johnson, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. The kindest, sweetest woman I’ll ever know. And the sexiest, most perfect friend. Will you marry me?”
I’m already nodding. No poker face power moves here. Not right now. I’m nodding, and I’m crying.
He’s got a ring that I can see through the blinking blur. I hold out my hand, but he doesn’t put it on yet.
“Rosie. . .”
“Yes,” I finally burst out. “Yes. A hundred times yes.”
“This summer. No waiting.” He stands up and slides the ring on my finger before spinning me around. “You said yes.”
“I said yes.”
He pushes a balloon out of the way and hauls me onto the couch. He sprawls on his back, and I crawl on top of him, eager to get my mouth on his.
His kiss is hungry, and his hands are extra possessive.
I’m going to be his wife.
Soon.
My clothes peel off as if by magic. Or talented Mr. Burke hands. Then his mouth is on me. On my breasts, and then between my legs. I arch my back as he licks my pussy in slow, hungry swipes. He doesn’t let up until my thighs clamp around his head and my clit pulses in his mouth.
Then he covers me with his body and fills me with his hard, throbbing Daddy cock. “You know what this means,” he growls.
I do.
I definitely do.
“I’ll stop taking my pills tomorrow.”
“Good girl.” He’s breathing hard, shuddering now. “You said yes.”
“I’m going to be your wife,” I whisper as he thrusts into me.
“We’re going to do this every day. Twice most days.”
“Until I’m knocked up?”
“Until the end of time.” He captures my mouth in another kiss, and we roll, tumbling to the other end of the couch. Now I’m on top of him, and he fucks me from below, his hands digging into my hips.
His cock swells inside me, and my whole body flexes from the pleasure of being filled so perfectly. His shaft strokes me in all the right places, and he holds each thrust deep inside me, knowing what that pressure does to me.
I’m so close now. Already. “Daddy,” I plead. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Make me come.”
“Oh, I will.” His grip shifts, and now he’s driving into me from a different angle. “You’re such a good girl. Holding still for Daddy. Letting go for me, too. You’ll make such a good wife.” His gaze burns up at me, making me gasp. “I dream of our wedding night, Rosie. Of filling you with my seed.”
“Soon,” I breathe. “I’m yours to breed.”
His expression shatters, his head thrown back, and as my whole sex convulses around him, I feel his heavy spurt deep inside me.
Yes.
I’m going to marry this man and have so many of his babies.