Epilogue #2
Right when I feel like the button holding my pants closed is going to do me dirty, Artemis taps the neck of his beer bottle with his fork before clearing his throat. The second he looks at me, really looks, my heart trips. I know that face. That’s his ‘don’t argue, I’ve made a decision’ face.
“Xavi, I think it’s safe to say that our relationship hasn’t simply survived the fire, but we’ve actively started building the home we want together.”
I nod, not sure what he could be doing talking about me when I’m the one who is supposed to be giving a birthday toast to him and his twin who I’m growing fonder of by the day.
With a quiet confidence, Artemis sinks to one knee on the floor between his chair and mine and holds out a ring. His face doesn’t say he’s stressed or worried, it says unburdened contentment which curls its way around my heart.
“You have zero chill,” I whisper to my soon-to-be fiancé with a shaky voice.
“What can I say? You’ve rubbed off on me.”
Ares snorts, but I shake my head. “Too easy.”
“You’re the only storm I’ll ever run toward. Marry me, Duende.”
“So bossy, ice prince.” I purse my lips. “You’re not the boss of me.”
The corner of his lips tilts up. “No, but you’re the boss of me. And I don’t want to live without you.”
The fluttering in my chest feels like I might take flight. He’s staring at me like no one else in the world exists. Some days it feels like they don’t. “It’s a good thing you don’t have to then, isn’t it?”
The room erupts into applause and cheering, but time stands still as I leap into the arms of my fiancé, and he catches me, like he will for the rest of our lives, whether I need him to or not.
After the buzz settles down, Ares lifts his glass of non-alcoholic wine. “You could have a joint wedding with Abuelita.”
Artemis groans. I used to think hockey was the only place I’d ever belong. Turns out, it was just the path that led me home—to him.
Artemis
Xavier’s still laughing from his call with his brother, Roman, when I drag him into the bedroom—cheeks flushed, eyes bright, that post-proposal glow making him look like he’s lit up from the inside out. I imagine I look similar. I can’t remember a time I felt so damn happy.
Was it too soon to propose? Maybe. But when you know, you know. There was no point in dragging it out when I have no intention of marrying anyone other than Xavier or letting him marry anyone other than me.
He’s mine. Until the end of fucking time.
“He says he’s proud of me for pursuing the foundation. Again. And he’s claiming best man.” He grins at me. “He doesn’t even care if it’s yours or mine.”
I snort. “I think there are a few de la Penas who might have an issue with a Martinez as my best man.”
He winks at me. “I’ve been your best man since we met, Dark Destroyer.”
“I’m about to fucking destroy you.” I shut the door with my foot, and he raises a brow, smirking like he’s about to make some smart-ass comment.
I don’t give him the chance. I need him close before the adrenaline wears off, and I start overthinking.
My mouth finds his in one long, claiming kiss—slow, deep, the kind meant to brand. His fingers curl in my shirt, yanking me down, greedy as hell. Good. Let him be greedy. He’s spent too long giving everything of himself away.
Tonight, he gets to take. I want him to feel claimed and cherished in the same breath.
“I can’t believe you proposed like that.” His murmur against my lips is with a shaky breath. “In front of your family.”
“That was the point.” I slide my hands beneath his shirt, palms gliding up his warm skin. “I wanted them to hear you say yes.”
His breath stutters. “I’d say it a thousand times.”
Something in my chest pulls tight—hope and relief and hunger and love all tangled in a messy ball.
I don’t answer, at least not with words.
I haul him onto the bed and climb over him, letting my weight settle just enough to make him gasp.
His thighs fall open without hesitation, welcoming me in like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all night long.
“Tell me what you need.” I brush my mouth down the line of his throat, his pulse kicking hard beneath my lips.
“You.” He’s already breathless. “Just you. All of you.”
I smile against his skin. “Your wish is my command, princess.” I wink at him, and he grins back. This unburdened version of myself is taking a little time to get to know, but I don’t think I hate him.
I take my time undressing him, savoring every inch of revealed skin like he’s something sacred. Xavier tries to rush me, hips lifting, hands tugging at my belt, but I grab his wrists and pin them above his head. His whole body shivers.
“Let me look.”
He stills, offering himself up. I love that he trusts me with his body, his heart, his life force. And God, that undoing hits so deep.
“Beautiful.” I kiss down his sternum, over his stomach. His thighs tremble when I spread them farther apart, settling between them like I was carved to fit exactly there.
“Arte.” His voice is charged with want.
I lift my gaze to his. “I’ve got you.”
When I slide inside him, it’s a language we’ve spent months learning, with my hands steady, his breath catching, and the world narrowing down to the charged heat between us.
I take him apart slowly, savoring every sound he makes, every clench of muscle, every soft plea that escapes before he can swallow it back.
He breaks first, arching up, fingers digging into my shoulders. “Please… I’m so close…”
“Good.” My whisper skims against the shell of his ear, as I thrust deeper, slower, completely determined to make him feel every fucking inch of me inside him. “Give it to me.”
He falls apart with my name on his tongue, his body shaking, his head tipped back in surrender. I’m buried deep in the man I’m going to marry, grounding myself in the feel of him, the heat, the certainty.
The second my breathing evens out, Xavier twists beneath me, rolling us until I’m flat on my back, and he’s straddling my hips. His hair’s a mess, cheeks pink, lips swollen—he looks wicked and gorgeous and determined in a way that makes heat lance straight through me, settling heavy in my balls.
“Oh no.” His drawl is honey thick. “You’re not getting the last word like that.”
My cock is oversensitive, my body humming from the orgasm he wrung out of me—but he clenches around me deliberately, and I nearly come again on the spot.
“Xavier—fuck—”
He smiles. “Mmmhmm.” He braces his hands on my chest and lifts his hips, slow, agonizing. Every inch he pulls off me feels like he’s dragging my soul out with him. When he sinks back down, it’s hot and tight and perfect, and I swear I see stars.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, watching my face like it’s his favorite TV show. “Already wrecked.”
“Your fault.” My voice is a rasp as I grip his thighs. “You feel… God. Duende.”
“Addictive?” He rolls his hips in a tight, deliberate circle that punches a moan out of me. “Yeah. I know.”
Smug fucker. Beautiful smug fucker. He leans forward, kissing me with his slow, filthy, tongue, teasing mine until I’m desperate. Then he breaks away to whisper in my ear, “I want you shaking by the end of this. Understand?”
My whole body flares hot. “Sí.”
“Good boy.”
Christ. The words hit harder than they should—hot, direct, and unraveling something tight inside me. I can’t say I’ve ever had a praise kink, but maybe I do for this one. Maybe he’s the key to unlock a piece I never knew existed. Or maybe, I’m growing, changing into something new because of him.
I don’t have time to think on it, because he starts riding me in earnest—long, deep strokes that make my spine curl and my hands clutch at the sheets. His rhythm is obscene, precise, like he’s memorized every part of me and is playing me like a professional musician.
“You always take care of me.” He’s panting, moving faster now. “Let me take care of you.” He leans back, palms dragging over the hair on my chest and down my abdomen, my hips, my thighs. His gaze is hungry, reverent. “Let me watch you break for me.”
I don’t stand a fucking chance. My orgasm builds brutally fast, pressure yanking tight and low in my gut. I grab his hips, trying to control my thrusts, but he swats my hands away.
My thighs are shaking, my breath stuttering, my fingers clawing for something… anything to tether me.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” He growls at me, riding me harder. “You’re mine—let me make you come.” His voice is a low command that shoots straight through me—there’s no fighting it. And for once, I don’t even want to.
I’m past words—just gasps and curses and the rough sound of his name tearing out of me. Xavier bends forward without slowing, his mouth on my neck, sucking a mark into my skin between short, sharp breaths.
And then, like he wants to ruin me completely, he wraps his fingers around my balls, squeezing me with devastating precision. My back arches off the mattress. “Duende, please.”
“Come for me.” He bites at my jaw. “I want to feel you lose it inside me.”
That’s the push over the edge I need. My orgasm detonates through me.
It’s violent and overwhelming, every muscle locked tight as pleasure rips up my spine and pours into him.
I can’t even breathe, can’t do anything but hold onto him as my vision whites out.
He groans when he feels it, grinding down to take every pulse of it.
I’m still shaking when he slows, then finally stills, his chest heaving, hands braced on my shoulders. Sweat glistens on his throat, his lips parted and pink. “Holy shit.” His laugh is breathless. “You look well fucked, Ice Prince.”
I drag him down for a kiss, still trembling. “You did that.”
“Damn right I did.” He slides off me carefully, cleans us both up, then pulls me close, slipping himself along my side, his head on my chest like he belongs there. And fuck, he does. For every day for the rest of our lives.
He kisses over my heart. “We’re doing that again before sunrise.” His voice is charged with a satisfied pride.
I stroke my fingers through his hair, warm and boneless and madly gone for this amazing man in my arms. I kiss his shoulder, smiling against his warm skin, then tuck him tighter into me, my heart stupidly full.
“Duende.” My murmur tangles into his hair. “You can have me whenever you want.”
He doesn’t answer this time, just sighs like he finally, finally believes me. And maybe that’s what love is—this quiet certainty that neither of us is running anymore.