Epilogue An Article In The Paper Clearing My Name #2
He pulls me back before I can leave, kisses my temple, and murmurs, “You never have to surprise me, Mary Kate. I love you exactly how you are.”
My voice is thick when I answer. “I want to anyway.”
I watch him climb the stairs, two at a time, his broad back swallowing the distance. The echo of his steps fades, and I’m left alone in the honey-lit foyer.
The lilies on the table are in full bloom now, their petals wide and open. I touch one, and it shivers, shedding a speck of gold dust onto my wrist.
I close my eyes, and for a moment, I let myself believe the future is something I can hold.
Then I follow him up the stairs, one slow step at a time.
He’s waiting for me at the landing, jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, hair in that perfect state between mussed and tame.
He’s sprawled against the banister like a man who has nowhere to go and all night to get there.
My heart hammers so hard I swear it’s going to punch through my chest and ricochet down the stairs.
I stop, one step below, and let him take me in. His eyes are blue fire, unwavering, drinking me up from head to toe.
He gestures at the hallway. “You said you had a surprise for me.”
I nod, hair falling over my shoulder. My hand finds the zipper of my graduation gown at my collarbone, the cheap plastic tab cold against my skin.
I move slow, slow enough that I can hear the catch of his breath, and pull it down, all the way, until the gown splits open and slips off both shoulders.
It hangs a second, then puddles at my ankles, black fabric pooling on the marble like an oil spill.
Underneath is nothing. I mean nothing. Not even a thong or a micro-bra or the lacy scraps the lady from the lingerie swore would “change my life.” Just bare skin, ivory and soft, my nipples already peaked from the temperature shift, my pussy already glimmering in the low light.
My heels make me taller than usual, legs long and absurd, and the diamond on my left hand catches the glass chandelier’s glow, fracturing the light into a thousand silent spotlights.
I don’t have the nerve to look up. Not until I hear the sound—low, guttural, half a laugh and half a moan.
“Jesus Christ,” he says, but the words are more reverence than blasphemy.
He comes down the step and stands right in front of me. We’re close enough that the heat off his body competes with the chill in the foyer. His eyes flick over my face, then down, and he licks his bottom lip like he’s starved.
I reach up, slow, and touch the knot of his tie. It’s all that’s left between us and the absolute. I untangle it, easy, and drape it around my own neck, the silk heavy and cool on my collarbones.
“Are you ready, Mr. Robinson?” I mewl with a smile.
“I was born ready,” he rasps, blue eyes flaring. “Fuck, baby, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
He puts both hands on my hips, his palms so hot it feels like they might leave a print. His thumbs ride the edge of my pelvic bones, not moving, just holding me in place.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he repeats, his voice harsh, the words coming out like a confession.
My cheeks flame, but I don’t flinch. “You’re not even seeing the best part,” I whisper.
He tips his head, amused. “Oh? And what’s that?”
I rise up on tiptoe and put my mouth at his ear, letting my hair sweep over both of us. “My ass,” I say, soft. “My present for you. You’re getting an ass bomb tonight.”
He goes utterly still.
“And what is that?” he rasps, his erection jerking in his pants.
I giggle before wiggling my hips and making my big breasts sway.
“You’ll see.”
Then, I step back, just enough to break the contact, and turn, giving him the full view. The heels make my calves pop, make my rear end a shelf, make the rest of me a litany of curves.
He groans, hands fisting at his sides. “You’re going to kill me, baby.”
I look at him over my shoulder, eyelids low, and let myself go loose. “Only if you’re lucky.”
We move through the house like we’re the only two people left on earth. The air has changed: heavier, sweeter, every sense in overdrive. The light is down to nothing but a golden glow and the dusk bleeds through the windows.
Kent doesn’t drag me. He just walks, one step ahead, and I follow, the echo of my heels a private rhythm. He leads me into his home office—all dark wood and leather, old money on display but never acknowledged. It’s where this all started, although the massage table is long gone.
He drops into a club chair, legs wide, and beckons me with just a flick of his finger. His cock is already pressing at his slacks, a thick, undeniable promise. I walk to him, slow, hips swinging, and when I reach him, he grabs my waist and pulls me into his lap.
I straddle him, bare skin on worsted wool, and the friction is so intense I gasp. He strokes up my back, hands splaying wide, then dips both thumbs under my ass, squeezing until I’m lifted, just a little.
He kisses me then, hungry and rough, teeth catching my lower lip and holding it. “You sure?” he murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, sweet girl.”
I grind down, hard, and the tip of his cock catches right at the seam of my cheeks, so close I can feel it throb. “I know,” I say, voice gone thin and greedy. “But I want to. Now do it.”
He gets the message. He unzips himself, not bothering to take off anything else. That massive cock springs free, heavy and thick and dark at the tip, already glimmering moisture. I look down at it, at him, and feel a quiver all the way through my pelvis.
He grabs the bottle of lube from the end table (always prepared), slicks himself up, then coats his fingers before circling my dark pleats.
The touch is expert—just pressure, then a little more, then in.
I arch my back, letting his finger open me, then two, then a third, stretching out my rectum, slow and deliberate.
“Ahhh!” I cry out. “Oh my god!”
“Fuck, your ass is dirty,” he rasps. “Goddamn.”
I’m already wet—so wet that it’s leaking onto his suit, darkening the wool. He sees it, and his mouth twists in a wicked smile. “Good girl,” he says. “So fucking ready all the time.”
But I want to give him the ass bomb, so I pause for a moment and then turn myself so that I’m facing outwards on his lap. I’m crouched in a squat, my asshole hovering right over the tip of his leaking cock.
“Are you ready, Daddy?” I coo, looking at him slyly over one shoulder. “Ass bomb coming in hot.”
“I’m more than ready,” he rasps. “Fuck, baby, you look so fucking dirty like this, with your asshole already open and ready for me.”
Then, he grabs my hips in both hands, lines up the head of his cock, and looks at me. I nod, breathing so fast I might pass out, and lower myself down, inch by inch.
The stretch in my anal ring is fire, a burn and a fullness that makes me whimper. I stop halfway, letting myself adjust, and he rubs my back, murmurs, “You can do it. Go slow.”
I push down with my butt, feeling him breach the tight ring, feeling it spread until the head is all the way in. My body shakes, not from pain but from the shock of being so completely filled.
“Unnh!” I cry out. “You’re so big!”
“I know, baby, but you can do it. You look so good like this, with my cock halfway buried in your butt. Fuck fuck fuck,” he groans, the sound vibrating right through my core.
I start to move, up and down, slow at first, then a little faster. The sensation is wild: every inch is pressure, every slide is a new nerve ending going live. I ride him with my asshole, hands braced on his knees, and he watches me with eyes so dark they almost don’t look real.
He starts talking then, the filthiest words I’ve ever heard.
“That’s it, take it all. You love it, don’t you?
You love Daddy’s cock in your ass. My nasty little girl.
You were made for this. All those years of waiting, and now look at you, fucking your ass down on Daddy’s cock like a slutty anal whore. ”
I gasp, squeezing tighter around him, and he holds me by the waist, guiding the rhythm. He pistons up into me, slow and deep, each thrust making a loud slap as our skin meets. The sound fills the room: skin on skin, my breathless moans, his voice going raw.
“You want to come like this?” he pants. “You want me to fuck your ass until you come?”
I nod, but then I pause for a moment.
“Yes, but you haven’t gotten your ass bomb yet, Daddy,” I whisper.
He takes his hands off my hips, blue eyes gleaming.
“Then show me.”
With that, I lift myself and then drop my butt down all the way onto his cock, taking him balls deep in a swift move.
He’s so huge that I scream, each vein in his cock scraping along my anal walls and feeling so good.
I do it again and again, lifting myself up on his cock and then slamming my butt down, creating the most delicious friction.
“Mmm!” I cry out, my breasts almost flapping with the violent movements. “Ooooh, fuck fuck fuck!”
“You look so goddamn sexy doing this,” Kent gasps from behind me, his hips bucking as he starts to lose control. “You want to come, baby?”
I can’t answer—can’t do anything but nod and whine and slam my ass down even harder on his cock in a series of violent ass bombs.
But my man knows what I need. He reaches around, slides his hand between my legs, and finds my clit.
He rubs, circles, presses, and the touch is perfect—so perfect that I cry out, my whole body arching.
The orgasm hits so fast it almost hurts.
My vision whites out, my muscles clamp down, and I scream as my asshole convulses around the massive cock buried inside.
“Ahhh!” I shriek. “Oh oh oh!”
Kent doesn’t stop. He fucks me right through it, letting me ride the aftershocks, letting me milk his cock with every spasm.
“Good girl,” he hisses. “You’re so good for me. So fucking dirty in every way, ready to be Daddy’s anal whore. You’re mine.”
Then he lets go, then, the rhythm going insane. He holds my hips in place and slams his dick up, deep, repeatedly, pounding my anus like a madman.