The Guardian's Angel

Epilogue

It’s like herding kittens, trying to keep an eye on all the kids and corral them in one area while we figure out which performance we’re going to next. We’ve gone all out, dressing up in pseudo-medieval Lords’ and Ladies’ costumes for our first trip to the Texas Renaissance Festival as a family of six—well, six and a half, if you count our third biological child together currently growing in my belly.

Now that I’ve graduated from Texas Tech and we’ve moved back to our hometown, the drive to the festival is much more manageable as opposed to the seven-plus hours it would take to get here from Lubbock.

My mouth waters for a bite of a giant turkey leg on a stick that the festival is well-known for, and my stomach rumbles. I look longingly at the food stalls, even though I finished off a whole turkey leg all by myself thirty minutes ago.

James, in all his nerdy, adorable finery, unfolds the festival map. “It looks like The Dublin Harpers will go on in about thirty minutes. Then we can make our way to the arena to watch the jousting after that. Sound good?”

I nod and hand our two-year-old son, Artie—short for Arthur—to James, then stretch my back with a moan. James shoots me a hot look, and I wag my brows before wincing when the baby kicks me in the ribs.

“Oh, there they are,” I say to James when I spot Isaiah standing a head taller than the crowd.

James waves his hand in the air, and Isaiah beelines toward our group when he spots us. He is followed by Martin, Eden, Ivy, and their two-year-old twins—Amelia, who takes after her mother and older sister with brown hair, and Daphne, who takes after her father with bright, ginger hair.

“Hey there, little Bartletts.” Isaiah smiles and gives Lainey, Grayson, and Gentry a high-five in greeting before patting Artie and James simultaneously on their backs. “Man, it feels good to be back here. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into a turkey leg.”

“Oh god, me—” I start.

“Isaiah!” Bailey yells with pleasant surprise after she and Autumn return from a food cart with paper cones of cinnamon sugar pecans.

Isaiah’s smile drops off his face, and his dark skin pales slightly. “Ah shit, James. You didn’t tell me Bailey would be here.” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder as he starts backing away. “I gotta go.”

Bailey takes off, chasing after him.

Autumn snickers. “This never gets old.”

“Wait! Isaiah!” Bailey huffs, weighed down by her costume’s dark blue, heavy skirts. “Are you coming to my birthday party? I’m turning eighteen!” she yells with hope in her voice, as if her turning eighteen—legally an adult—will make Isaiah, who is nearing thirty-three, stop running, spin around, and take her into his arms as he confesses his love.

Hope that is quickly dashed.

“Fuck no!” he yells over his shoulder, trying his best to push through the dense crowd.

My heart breaks for Bailey, no matter how inappropriate her crush is. She’s been in love with Isaiah since she was thirteen years old. We thought she would grow out of it when she got into high school, especially since Isaiah has made it abundantly clear that he wants nothing to do with her—as he should. But nope. Her unrequited love for him grows stronger with each passing year.

I look at my handsome, wonderful husband and think about the soul-crushing devastation I would feel if he didn’t return my love. If he cursed and bolted every time I came near him, I’d be a shell of a person. Then again, we didn’t officially meet until after I turned eighteen—big difference.

“Please—” Bailey cries out when she stumbles over an abandoned umbrella stroller and falls to her hands and knees in the dirt, her pecans scattering on the ground.

We collectively gasp. I think Autumn speaks for all of us when she says, “Dang, now I feel bad.”

I waddle my way to help Bailey when Isaiah whips around at her pained voice and rushes back, reaching her before I do. He picks her up by her waist to set her on her feet, then looks her up and down, checking for injuries.

“Oh shit, B, are you ok?” His black brows pinch together with concern laced with guilt.

She clutches his arms with tears in her eyes, yet she smiles brilliantly and cries, “I knew you loved me!” She tries to throw her arms up around his neck.

Isaiah drops his hands from her waist as if she burned him. “Damnit, B. No!” He grabs her hands and pushes them down to her sides. “Give up already!” he yells before turning and dodging around people to disappear.

Bailey growls and stomps her foot in frustration. “I’ll never give up, Isaiah! I love you!” she screams while everyone stops and stares.

I pull her into my arms and turn her around to rejoin our group before she’s tempted to take off running after him again. I’m surprised to see her smiling, though, and the slight conniving look to the set of her eyes.

Before I can ask her what she’s planning, Lainey yells, “Mom! Tell Grayson to stop pulling my hair!” I look up just in time to see her yank her long, bright blonde braid out of Grayson’s hand and slap it away. She tries to push him, but he’s already a head taller than her and nearly twenty pounds heavier. When that doesn’t work, she grabs hold of his short, brown strands and tries to rip them out from the roots.

Instead of yelling and crying out, he laughs. With her distracted, he pulls on her braid again.

“You’re such a weirdo, Grayson!”

“That’s what you get for kicking me, Devilainey!”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Devilainey! Devilainey!”

Lainey lets loose what can only be described as a battle cry and kicks one of his shins, then the other.

“Dad! Tell Devilainey to stop kicking me!”

I sigh as James steps between the two to separate them and give them a talkin’ to, then asks them to apologize to each other. At six years old, they bicker almost as much as Bailey and Autumn do, and we constantly have to break them up. I snort when I think back to when I was young and naive and thought my house would be any quieter than the one I grew up in. At least they don’t have to share a room, like my sisters do, so they aren’t always in each others’ faces.

Once they’re settled—unhappy but no longer fighting—James and I both do a double-take when a woman cries out my name and falls into me with a hug. It’s awkward with my belly—and hers?—between us. I would have lost my balance if James hadn’t immediately sprung to my side to steady me as the nameless woman sobs and sags against me.

Over her shoulder, I see Grayson pull Lainey behind his back with a fierce look, protecting her from whoever is accosting me as he backs her away from us. Thankfully, Bailey and Autumn are hand in hand with their nephews, Gentry and Artie, or they would have scattered like Bailey’s pecans. Lastly, I see Martin’s eyes blow wide in recognition.

A black-haired man with glasses that swallow nearly half his warm brown face grimaces and slowly peels the woman away from me. “Ok, mi alma, let the woman go.” She reluctantly agrees and takes a step back into his chest while he rubs his hands up and down her arms.

“Mara?” James asks with astonishment as he slides his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. I search her face, looking for the familiar mean girl in her splotchy features.

She bursts into a fresh round of tears as she rubs her belly, obviously pregnant and looking like she’s ready to pop. Of all the people I would expect to hug me, she’d be one of the last people on my list.

Mara nods, and through tears, she says, “When I saw you…I just had to say…to say that I’m so sorry, Shayla, for how I treated you when we met.”

My brows shoot up to my hairline. “Oh, that’s, uh, nice of you. Thank you.”

“I was such a bitch to you, and you didn’t deserve it. I…I…I’m so fucking miserable!” The man holding her blanches and kisses her temple. It’s then I notice she’s wearing a wedding ring, and with how he’s holding her, I’m guessing this is her husband. “This shit is so hard,” she wails as she waves her hand up and down her body. “Everything’s swollen, and my hips ache all the time. I can hardly breathe or eat more than a few bites without being full. And my tits! They’re fucking huge and hurt like a bitch all the time!”

I suppress a chuckle because been there, done that. I see Eden laugh from the corner of my eye because she also knows exactly what that feels like.

If possible, Mara’s face falls more after that. “I’m sorry I made that ‘joke’ about you being nothing but a pretty face with big tits and that stupid insult about you throwing them around for men’s attention. Because they’re just like that, right? You can’t help it. You could be covered head to toe, and they’re still right there in your face.”

“Oh. Well, I, uh, I appreciate that,” I say, still stunned by this run-in and her apology.

“Everyone’s always judging me, offering unsolicited advice, no matter what I do or wear, and I realized I did that to you, too. And Jesus, how much bigger can they get? I already have stretch marks, and they just keep growing and growing…and they’re supposed to get even bigger when my milk comes in! When will it stop?!” She sniffles and then steps forward, reaching for and holding my hand between hers. “I’m so sorry. Truly. There’s no excuse for what I said to you. You were…you had to go through all of this when you were still in high school, and I can’t imagine how much harder that must have been. And then I walked in and shit all over you. I’m sorry.”

With more feeling, I tell her, “Thank you for apologizing. You didn’t have to…but thank you.” We share a smile, and I strike Mara’s name from my mental mean girl list.

After formal introductions with Mara’s husband, Ezra—who is just as nerdy as the rest of the old RPG group—we introduce our kids and Martin’s as well, much to Mara’s surprise as she counts all of them.

“You both have such beautiful families,” Mara says, and she smiles with warmth when I tilt my head, resting it against James’s shoulder. Tentatively, she asks, “So, are you still doing game nights?” When James nods, she says, “I…I know why you kicked me out of the group. I deserved it. Ezra and I started playing—that’s how we met—but it’s just the two of us. We haven’t found a group that we’ve clicked with yet.”

It didn’t sound like a leading statement, but I guess the guys take it as such. After Martin and James share a long, silent look, James tips his head toward me, and I give a slight nod. Just because Mara was a mean girl once, that doesn’t mean I have to be one to her now, especially since she’s apologized and seems to be sincere.

James says, “We’re hosting the next game at our house this weekend. Shayla’s dad plays with us now, too, but we have room for two more.”

Mara breaks into yet another round of tears, though they’re happy ones this time. Ezra and James shake hands while Mara pulls me in for a hug and thanks me for forgiving her and giving her another chance.

Looks like I just made a new friend.

It was sheer luck that James’s old house was on the market when we made plans to move back home after I graduated, so we were able to buy it back. Our kids will get to grow up with their grandparents right across the street, and I don’t have to wait for holidays to see my family. Some of my best memories were made in this house, and as much as I loved the modern, new build we lived in while we were in Lubbock, this house is what truly feels like home.

With Lainey in one room and the three boys in the former office, it’s a tight squeeze with our computer desks taking up one-half of our bedroom and the bassinet butted up to the side of our bed for when our littlest Bartlett is born. But with the second-story addition the city just approved for us to build, we’ll have three more bedrooms by this time next year—one for Grayson so he won’t have to share with Gentry and Artie like I had to do with Bailey and Autumn, a bigger one for Lainey, and the third will be made into our new office so James and I can work side by side from home without bumping elbows. Artie and Gentry will stay in their current room together, but at least they won’t have to share it with the baby, who will be in the old nursery once Lainey moves upstairs.

“Jesus, what a day,” James says as we trudge our way into our bedroom after getting the kids fed and dressed for bed.

I groan and drop my head back against James’s shoulder when he loosens the ties of my costume at my back, and the heavy white and gold dress falls to the floor.

“Tell me about it,” I say with a tired sigh. “Let’s give it a few more years before we attempt to go as a family of seven.”

“But you looked like an angel in your dress. Beautiful beyond words. And the corset pushing your gorgeous tits up…you drove me wild the entire day. I don’t think I want to wait a few years to see you in it again.” James unhooks the back of my bra and slips one of my straps down my shoulder. He kisses my neck, and I tilt my head to the side to give him more access with a moan. “But you look even better out of it,” he says as he pulls the other strap down and kisses the other side of my neck.

“James, oh god, that feels so good,” I say with a moan, already panting with desire when he slides his hands to my front to cup my heavy breasts, kneading them until I feel my milk let down. I was pleasantly surprised my milk didn’t completely dry up each time I got pregnant, as I was warned was a possibility by my OBGYN, which meant I have been able to breastfeed throughout my pregnancies since they’re so close together.

James was even more pleased.

“I love it when you moan for me, angel.”

So I do it again and roll my hips back against him when he drops his hands to my belly, softly caressing the curve, and then hooks his fingers in the waistband of my pink panties to push them halfway down my thighs. He dips his fingers between my thighs and instantly finds my clit, gently applying pressure as he massages the bud, and I cry out.

I step my feet apart, and he switches to rolling my clit with his thumb so he can sink his first two fingers inside me as he continues kissing my neck. I reach up behind me to grip the hair at the nape of his neck with one hand and slide my other behind me to palm his hard erection, covered by his trousers.

“Oh fuck, angel. You make me so hard it hurts.”

I drop my hands and pull his away, then step out of my panties and turn around. James looks momentarily confused as to why I made him stop until I back him up against the bed. I drag his tunic off and untie the laces on his trousers to free his cock, already dripping with pre-cum. I press against his chest until he’s forced to sit on the bed, then step between his knees.

James’s jaw drops when I cup my breast with one hand and palm the back of his head with the other. “I’m sorry I made it hurt,” I say sweetly. “Maybe there’s something I can do to comfort you and take the pain away.”

My husband grips my wide hips to pull me closer as he nods, dropping his gaze to my nipple, milk dripping from the tip. “My angel,” he whispers before latching onto my breast and suckling, making me cry out and arch my back.

I scramble onto James’s lap when he drains one side and switches to the other. It’s a tricky fit with my belly so huge between us, and I can’t get the angel I need to take his cock inside me.

“James, oh god, I need you!”

It doesn’t matter how much weight I gain with my pregnancies, James is able to lift me—even if he does grunt with the effort to do so in the later stages—and he does so now, flipping me onto my back in the middle of the bed. He climbs my body and shoves my knees up and apart so he can see and play with my pussy.

“Look how swollen and wet you are, angel.” He swipes two fingers through my slit to gather my arousal and massage my clit, increasing the pressure until I’m a writhing mess.

“Stop playing with me. I need you, oh god, now!”

“Fuck yes, I need you, too.” And then he’s in me, driving his large cock deep until he’s buried to the hilt.

A guttural moan is ripped from my chest at feeling his girth stretching my pussy, filling me completely. What I don’t expect him to do is come to an abrupt stop and kiss me, careful to keep his weight off my belly. I squeeze my inner walls around his shaft and try to buck my hips to get him to fuck me.

“James…please. Why did you stop?”

There’s a glint in his eye as he slowly pulls out of me, leaving just his cockhead notched in my entrance. “We’re playing with fire here, angel.” He shallowly pumps the head of his cock in and out an inch, and my frustration grows along with my confusion.

I dig my heels into his ass, trying to force him back in. “Please!” I slap the bed when he shakes his head and yanks his cock out. He sits back on his heels and reaches into his nightstand, then holds up a wrapped condom I didn’t even know we had. “What…what are you doing?”

He rips open the wrapper and slowly starts to roll the condom down his dick. “It’s dangerous” —he stresses—“what we’re doing.”

“Have you lost your mind? I’m almost seven months pregnant. There’s nothing dangerous about…oh. Oh!” He grins when he sees it click in my mind.

I push myself up to sit—not an easy feat in this stage of pregnancy—and push his hand away, pull the condom off, and toss it to the side. Fisting his cock and pumping my hand up and down, I lick my lips and say, “Three strokes, and then you can put the condom back on.”

He moans and pumps his hips, fucking my fist. “Three bareback strokes in your angel pussy. Are you sure?”

He growls when I nod my head furiously, places a hand between my breasts to push me back down on the bed, and slams home inside me. The pleasure of being so full again is divine.

“Count with me, angel,” James says between panting breaths. “That was one.”

“Two,” we say together when he snaps his hips back and drives into me, bottoming out and making me arch my back, then does it again.

“That’s three strokes,” he says when I grip his shoulders and hook my ankles around his back when he tries to pull out.

“Please don’t stop!”

He kisses his way from my lips to my neck, then nips my earlobe. He says with a hoarse voice, “I have to. I need to get a new condom.”

I growl and push him off me, then scramble on top of him, straddling his hips and sheathing his cock inside my dripping wet pussy. James throws his head back on the mattress as he grips my hips and pumps up into me as I brace my hands on his pecs and bounce on his steely dick.

“Oh fuck, angel. You feel incredible.” He digs his fingers into my plump ass, spreading my cheeks. “You have to stop, or I’m going to cum inside you. It’s too risky.”

I bite my lip, squeeze my inner muscles, and swivel my hips. “Tell me when you’re going to cum, and we’ll stop.”

James’s pupils blow wide, and he roars, “Fuck. Yes!” Gripping my hips again, he helps me bounce on his cock, forcing me to move harder and faster until we’re both moaning too loudly as our pleasure ratchets higher, making enough noise to wake the whole house.

James rolls us over and flips me onto my front with an arm under my hips, yanking them up so I don’t land on my belly. I scream and claw at the comforter when he surges inside me.

He carefully drapes himself over my back and tells me, “Bite the comforter. I don’t want the kids to wake up and interrupt us. I’ll lose my mind if I have to stop now.”

I’m quick to obey, muffling my screams with every deep, delicious thrust. James slides a hand down to massage my clit with the right amount of pressure I need to have me close to climaxing within seconds.

“James. James! Oh god, I’m going to cum!”

“That’s it, angel. Cum on my cock. I want to feel you gush before I have to pull out.”

I throw my hips back, meeting him thrust for thrust, so, so, so close to going over the edge.

“Oh shit, oh shit, you have to stop doing that, or I’m going to cum first. It’s too good. Have to pull out.”

“No! Don’t stop. Cum inside me, James!”

“Are you sure?” he asks me without slowing. If anything, he goes feral, fucking me with an intensity that has my eyes rolling back and my toes curling.

“Yes!”

“You want me to fill you up? Cum deep inside your angel pussy?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” I scream as the pressure in my core builds and snaps, and I’m swept away in waves of ecstasy.

“Oh fuck! Angel! I’m cumming!” James thrusts inside me once more, and I feel the heat of his release fill me. I’ll never, ever get tired of feeling my husband lose control and cum inside me. It always feels just as amazing as the first time, even if it’s just a game we’re playing now, pretending we’re being risky.

James gingerly rolls us onto our sides with his cock still nestled inside my pussy and helps me stretch my sore limbs out, completely and utterly spent of energy. He kisses my shoulder as he slides one arm under my head and cups my breast, then drapes the other over my waist to palm my lower belly.

“That was fun,” he says with a raspy whisper, and I snort, clenching around his softening cock.

I moan as it twitches and starts to swell again, then wince. “Down, boy. I don’t have it in me for round two yet. I’m not eighteen anymore.” He chuckles, his cock twitching again. “Besides, your daughter is playing kickball with my bladder, and I need to use the restroom.”

At that, James pulls out, and our combined releases follow. That’s another thing I’ll never get tired of. After I’ve finished my business and cleaned up, I pad back into our bedroom, check the baby monitor in the boys’ room, thankful they’re still asleep, and rejoin James in bed.

James rolls back onto his side, facing me, and pulls me into his arms. I bury my face in his chest as I snuggle into him and caress the length of his back, up and down, tracing the long line of his spine. He kisses the crown of my sweaty hair.

“Now that we’re having a daughter, we really will have to be careful after this. It won’t be just a game anymore—no matter how sexy it is,” he says.

My hand stills on his back, and I bite the inside of my cheek without responding. He leans back and tips my chin up, searching my eyes.

“We are…right? Stopping?”

“Yes?”

“Angel…” James gulps as his eyes widen. “I’m pretty sure watching you give birth for the third time really will give me a heart attack. You know I can’t stand seeing you in pain, no matter how much I love our kids.”

“I’m sure the epidural will work just fine this time. Third time’s the charm, right?”

“Angel. My heart won’t make it through a fourth, even if it does work this time. If you don’t want me to end up in my own hospital bed, then I have to put my foot down.”

“Ok.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Yup…one hundred percent serious,” I say with a chuckle.

“Angel…” he groans.

Reaching for his hand, I drag it down to palm the side of my belly where our daughter—unlike us—is full of energy, doing somersaults and kicking my ribs.

James’s breath hitches, and he slides down the bed to kiss my belly and caresses my stretch marks tenderly. He looks up into my eyes and says, “Ok. Maybe one more. But only if the epidural works.”

I laugh.

“I’m so serious, angel. I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“Sure you are.” I roll onto my back, then tug on his dark strands to pull him on top of me. I spread my legs for him and welcome his erection inside me.

“Angel, oh fuck.” He moans as he slowly rocks in and out of me, knowing how sore I am—also knowing that neither of us wants him to stop, least of all me. “How am I ever going to say ‘no’ to you?”

I hook my legs around his waist and slide my fingers through his hair, combing it back from his face as I look deep into his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes that have always swirled with so much love and devotion—and even obsession—for me. Blue eyes that I know will always do so for the rest of our lives. It’s exactly how I always look at him, too.

“You don’t want to say ‘no’ to me. You love our little—well, big—family as much as I do.”

He dips down to kiss me sweetly. “I do. I love you. I love you so much, angel. And our kids. My whole world.”

“My whole world, too. You and our family…I love you so much. So much that it hurts sometimes,” I say, tapping his chest above his heart and then mine.

James hums and pulls out unexpectedly. He slides down my body to kiss my belly and then lower still to kiss my clit. “I’m sorry it hurts. Maybe my wife needs a little comfort, too.”

—THE END—