Epilogue
TEN YEARS LATER
KANE
Fingertips teased over my abs, traveling south until her soft hand wrapped around my aching cock. Groaning, I kissed my wife, pulling her to me so that her husband could take her from behind while she pumped me in her tight grip.
“Fuck. I love how wet she always is for us,” Ryder gritted as he thrust into her, the sound causing my balls to draw up, ready to explode all over her delicate hand.
“Please, I need both of you,” she whined.
“Come here, mo réiltín.” Rolling to my back, I carried her with me. She was dripping when I slid her down my cock.
Over her shoulder, I met Ryder’s gaze and nodded as he slowly took her ass.
“Oh God,” she whined, her back arching, giving Ryder a deeper angle.
My vision went black around the edges from the pleasure. “I’m not gonna last.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Ryder kissed the side of her head. “She’s already there. Aren’t you, baby?”
“Harder,” she cried, demanding more as she came all over me.
Fingers biting into her hips, we pounded into her, making sure she was always full with one of us. I exploded as she came for a second time, her pussy clenching so hard I saw stars.
When I could breathe again, Vega was asleep on top of me, and Ryder had dropped down beside us, already snoring again.
It was Saturday, and this week, I was on early-morning kid duty while they slept in.
Ryder and I alternated each week, but it usually depended on how Vega was feeling.
There were moments when she needed extra time with me, and then there were those days when she got lost in her head, and Ryder stepped up his game.
Always working to prove to her that she was his number one priority.
There was a high chance that she would never fully believe Ryder again.
How she’d forgiven me, I’d never truly know, other than my wife was a fucking angel.
But Ryder had broken something in her ten years ago that might never fully heal, and that was his cross to bear.
He showed up, every day, just like he’d promised.
Legally, Vega was my wife. She carried my last name, but then again, so did Ryder.
He’d changed his name to Brennan before Vega had given birth to our son.
None of us had wanted Cullum’s name to touch our child.
Brennan wasn’t much better, in my opinion, but Vega insisted it was the perfect surname for us all.
Atlas Ernesto Brennan was the name she’d picked for our firstborn.
Our commitment ceremony/wedding was small, just the girls from Vega’s book club and their husbands, when our son turned one.
Ryder and I left our son in the hands of Abi Vaughn and—Christ, I still couldn’t believe it—Samara Vitucci Reid.
It surprised me too, but Sammy and Vega were friends, and Abi promised that everything would go smoothly.
I still had that favor that could be cashed in at any time, but so far, in the decade we’d lived in the same town, I hadn’t needed to use it.
When we’d gotten back from the weeklong honeymoon, our boy was still as happy as he’d been when we’d left him playing with his “cousins,” as Abi called her girls. We thought he enjoyed having the siblings to play with so much that Ryder and I did our best to give him one of his own.
A month after our honeymoon, Vega found out she was pregnant again, and we gave Atlas a sister, Seren. Vega said she was done after that. One of each, the perfect set who looked so much like their beautiful mother and nothing like either of their fathers.
Vega knew who their biological fathers were, but Ryder and I didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter. They were a part of Vega, and that was all that I needed to love them.
Although Vega had said she was done, the universe laughed and gave us Anya.
I thought it was a joke when Vega wanted to name our second daughter, our sweet, precious baby, after Anya Vitucci.
The joke was even more on me when said sweet, precious baby became our reckoning.
She didn’t share a single drop of DNA with the Vitucci family, but fuck if she didn’t act just like her beloved “name twin.”
Getting up, I showered then checked on the kids.
Atlas was still snoring almost as loud as Ryder, his face smushed into his pillow.
Seren had made herself some cereal, using the largest metal mixing bowl she could reach.
She’d parked herself in the living room, her favorite show on as she FaceTimed her best friend from school.
“Morning, Da,” she said before stuffing another heaping spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
“Good morning, my angel,” I dropped a kiss on top of her head. “Anya?”
Seren used her spoon to point outside.
Not surprisingly, my Anya was hanging upside down from her favorite tree branch. Her Nerf gun was in her hand as she shot at the target Samara had set up for her.
Also not surprisingly, she was already a perfect shot at five years old.