Epilogue
Georgia
Ten months later…
“Tell me this wasn’t a mistake?”
He doesn’t respond, and it’s a shame. I could really use some support right now. “I’m going to need you to be on your best behavior but still be lovable. He needs love. Not that I don’t give him enough, but the kind that says, ‘Hey, stop being so crabby.’”
The past ten months have been a wild ride—a heavy mix of love, lots of insane sex, unforgettable moments, and us learning to be us. But they haven't come without their fair share of challenges.
At the end of the summer, we spent countless days locked away in his room, peeling back every layer of each other’s hearts. We learned how to navigate our relationship in public, which wasn’t easy at first. There was judgment, whispers, and speculation. But Jackson? He didn’t care. Not even for a second. He never flinched at what anyone thought or said about us. His only concern was me—what I wanted, how I felt—and because of that, I was the happiest I’d ever been.
Before school started, we visited Mom, and her transformation has been breathtaking. She looked like a completely different person from the fragile woman I saw at the hospital. And knowing that was because of Jackson only deepened my love for him.
To my surprise, Bill was nowhere to be seen during our visit. I asked about him, but everyone fell silent. I have a feeling Jackson had something to do with that as well.
When it was time to return to school, I faced a decision, though the answer felt obvious. Going back wasn’t an option. There were too many memories tied to that place. Memories I wasn’t ready to face, and with Noah gone, it didn't feel right. I applied and was accepted to the local university, where I began my sophomore year as an off-campus resident. Jackson insisted on it, adamant about keeping me far away from any “horny college boys.” I couldn’t argue with him—not when his protective streak was one of the many things I adored about him.
“Unless you want to see me murder a man for looking your way, just mark no to that box, Peach.”
“For the on-campus housing? Staying on campus is part of the experience. College parties—”
“Say another word, and I’m going to tie you to my bed for the semester. You can take online classes.”
“But when we run into the Zoom class issue and me being naked and tied up, that would get a little awkward—”
I squeal as he picks me up, tossing me over his shoulder. “Be careful!" I rush out, and my walking boot knocks over a vase in the foyer. “Jackson! You broke the vase!”
“Fuck the vase. You should be more worried about your ass. I’m about to turn it purple.”
“Why? Because I’m doing online classes naked—shit!” I hiss when he slaps my ass.
“Watch it. I don’t share. Ever.”
“Is that why you fired the gardener?”
“Only I give you roses. Mine.” He slaps me again, and I burst outlaughing.
“You know I asked him to cut me some flowers for that poor vase.”
“And now, it’s no longer a problem since they’ve both been eliminated.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Not ridiculous. Just a man who guards what’s his at all costs. Now…” He tosses me on the bed, “I’m going to fuck ‘college party’ out of your brain.”
It was an adjustment, but I managed to make it work. And not because I suddenly had more time to study. It was quite the opposite. I was busy being consumed by Jackson in every way possible. He was insatiable, but so was I. The fire between us was like an inferno, threatening to consume the world.
Still, there were moments. Snippets when I’d catch Jackson lost in his thoughts, his mind clearly on Noah. We hadn’t heard from him since he left. Jackson knew he was safe. Craig was tracking him. But Noah was clever, and at times, even Craig lost his trail.
But he was safe.
That was all that mattered.
For now.
Last week was Noah’s birthday. Jackson tried everything to find him, but it was no use. Noah didn’t want to be found—that much was clear. I’d left him a dozen texts and countless voicemails, pleading with him to call me or at least his dad. Each message sat unread.
I wish there were something I could do. Jackson’s been drinking more than usual, and I can’t tell if it’s because of Noah, the trial, or both.
Last month, Veronica was arrested while trying to board a plane to Switzerland. It took nine months, but she finally went from a person of interest to being officially charged with kidnapping, attempted murder, and first-degree murder—all of which she pled innocent to.
Jackson’s been a mess, barely holding it together. The usual calm composure he wears so well is nowhere to be found. He’s tired, irritable, and seems to be consumed by the weight of it all. How could it have taken this long to arrest her? The legal system was useless. During a raid on their home, authorities discovered Burt Hallstead’s remains. The coroner determined he had been poisoned and had been dead for at least eleven months.
Veronica, of course, blamed everything on Vince, claiming he orchestrated all of it and she was just another victim. She cried in court, saying she never knew her husband was dead, even though her DNA was found allover his body. Not to mention the poison found in their service shed.
If he’s not burying himself in me, it’s work. And lately, sex isn’t even calming him. I’m worried about him. And I feel powerless, not knowing how to help him.
“So, you see, you need to help me. I’ll do my thing, and you do yours, okay?” The notification on my phone tells me he’s home. “It’s showtime. If this doesn’t go as planned, remember it’s not you, it’s him. Just hide in here.”
I shut the door to the walk-in pantry.
Hearing the garage open, I jump onto the island, cross my legs, and straighten my shoulders, pushing my boobs out.
“George—” he calls, stalling when he sees me. “Hmmm…” he says, enjoying the view. “Should I ask what you did or eat your pussy, then ask?”
I uncross my legs, giving him a nice view since my lingerie is sheer and see-through.
“What makes you think I did something wrong?”
“The last time I came home to you like this, you coerced me into saying yes to you going to a college party.”
“But you said yes.”
“Because you gave me a blowjob and caught me at a vulnerable moment. I've since learned my lesson.”
I giggle at the memory. I could have asked for the world, and he would have obliged. “What if I say you’re going to like what I have to offer?” He eliminates the space between us, stepping in between my legs. His hair is unkept, and there’s exhaustion in his eyes. “Long day at work?” I ask, guilt simmering in my chest.
“Yeah. What do you want, Peach? I’m too tired to say no.” I bite my bottom lip, fighting the urge to smile. He grips my thighs and squeezes, causing me to squeal. “Now—”
“I think we should add someone else to our bed.” There, I said it. It came out strong and dominant. His eyes go wide, then narrow into slits. His voice lowers, vibrating with fury. “Excuse me?”
“I think it would be fun. Three of us. We can cuddle. Play games—”
“You fucking kidding me?” He’s mad. Explosive mad. “You better fucking be joking, Georgia. I swear to God, I will go on a murder spree.” The clatter of an object falling off a pantry shelf catches his attention, and he instinctively shifts, his head whipping toward the door. “What the fuck?”
“Hear me out! I think you’ll like him! You two are kind of the same—” He storms toward the door and rips it open, ready to slay, when a ball of fluff comes bouncing out. He stops at Jackson’s fancy leather shoe and tugs on his shoelace.
“What. The fuck. Is that, Georgia?”
“Our threesome partner. If we train him, he can sleep in the bed. The breeder told me dachshunds are major cuddlers. Bad with barking but super loyal. The name on his crate was Hank, but we could always change it… to Threesome or…” I stop because I can’t decipher his expression. Still angry? Shocked and angry? Confused, shocked, and really angry?
“This is your threesome.”
“Technically, our threesome. I signed both our names on the adoption papers. Congrats, babe, you’re a fur-daddy.”
He glares at me, then back to the puppy now humping his shoe. Finally, he bends down and picks up the pup. He walks over to me, Hank tucked into his armpit, and raises one hand to my throat, collaring it. “You ever try to make me think you want another man in our bed again, I will make sure you can’t sit for a week. I will cover you with my cum before you go to class and make sure everyone knows who you belong to. You understand me?”
I can barely get my reply out I’m so aroused. “I understand.”
He holds my gaze captive, ignoring Hank/Threesome when he tries to bite his chin. “You got us a dog.”
“It’s a wiener dog." I wiggle my eyebrows. "My favorite.”
“Watch it.” His hand slides up my neck, stroking his thumb across my lips. “How about this? I’m going to take a shower; then you can have my wiener in your mouth since he’s your favorite. Then we can discuss what to do with this thing.”
“Deal.”
I put my hands out to take Hank/Threesome, but he pulls back and walks off. “Sorry, Peach. Can’t trust you with another wiener.”
Damn him.
I give Jackson his space and let him shower while I clean up a puddle of pee in the corner, scoop a cup of puppy chow into a bowl for Hank, and head back upstairs to our bedroom. When I walk in, I find Hank in the middle of the bed and the shower still running.
“Did he ditch you, Hankie Pankie? How dare he? Doesn’t he know we’re a package deal now?” I walk over and set Hank’s bowl down, curious about what he’s chewing on. Reaching for the small box in his paws, I pull it away gently. “How did you get this, little man?” I mutter while inspecting the poor chewed-up box. “Uh oh. I hope these aren’t his expensive cufflinks.” Hank’s teeth have done a number on the case. I pry it open to assess the damage, and the moment I see what’s inside, my breath catches.
“Hank wants to know if you’d like to make this threesome a forever thing.”
My head snaps around. Jackson stands there, fully dressed, definitely not in the shower. His dark eyes burn into mine, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.
“Wha—what is this?” I stammer.
He steps closer, his gaze never wavering. “I had a plan tonight,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I was probably going to mess it up because I was so damn nervous. But then I walked in, and, well, you had already stolen the show with your negligee and your dog—”
“Our dog,” I whisper, my throat tight.
Jackson’s grin softens. “Our dog,” he agrees. “So, I had to improvise.”
He takes the box from my trembling hands and pulls the ring from its holder. “I can’t even tell you how long I’ve had this,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve thought about this moment so many times. Actually, I tried to do it a few months ago—”
“You did?” I ask, shocked.
“Pizza night,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I had the ring in the champagne. I got you to toast, waiting for you to find it—”
“Oh my God, that was the night I got food poisoning!”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I was so anxious, I thought about just slipping in on your finger right then and there, big gesture be damned. I just wanted you to be mine.”
“Jackson,” I whisper, my voice unsteady as my eyes lock on the ring he’s holding. He takes my hand in his, his touch firm and sure. Then, with the steady grace of a man who’s found his forever, he drops to one knee.
“I’ve imagined myself in this position a million times,” he begins, his words raw with emotion. “And I never come up with the perfect words. I don’t know how to explain what you do to me. How you give me life. You’ve become the reason I wake up every day. I can’t even remember how I lived before you. But I know I never want to go back to a life that doesn’t have you in it.”
His thumb brushes over my ring finger. And when he looks up, his eyes hold mine captive. “I never realized I had a purpose in life until you. You’ve made me see everything in a different light. And yeah, I might end up graying and slowing down while you’re still glowing like the sun, but I’d take every wrinkle if it means growing old beside you.”
“Shut up,” I laugh through my tears, lightly smacking his shoulder.
“But what time I do have left, I want to spend loving you. Georgia Price, will you be my forever?”
Tears race down my face. “Yes… yes…” I cry, barely able to speak through my overwhelming joy.
Jackson slides the ring onto my finger, then jumps to his feet and scoops me into his arms. “I love you, Peach,” he murmurs against my lips.
“I love you too, old man,” I reply, laughter bubbling out as happy tears stream down my face. He kisses me deeply, carrying me over to our bed. In one swift motion, we collapse onto it, momentarily forgetting poor Hank. The dog yelps, nearly dodging being squished.
“Oh, Hank! We’re so sorry!” I exclaim, trying to reach for him.
“Fuck off, Hank. Mommy and Daddy need to fuck.” I break into a fit of laughter against his smiling lips. He kisses me again, deeper, and Hank pounces at our heads. “Dammit, that thing is relentless.” Jackson groans as the pup climbs onto my chest, wagging his tail.
“He just wants love, too.” I grin, watching Hank lick Jackson’s face enthusiastically.
“Watch and learn, Hank. I have seniority.” He glares at the dog.
Hank, of course, continues to lick his face, completely unfazed. My laughter deepens, bubbling up until I’m breathless.
“Jesus,” Jackson mutters, shaking his head. “If this is your idea of a threesome, Peach, we might need to have a talk.”
“He’s happy. He feels the love.”
Jackson grinds into me. “I know damn well you feel the love. Can we put this dog in a drawer or something? We have some business to attend to.”
“No, he’s just a puppy.”
Jackson becomes impatient. Abruptly, he stands, stripping off his clothes in one fluid motion. Before I can catch my breath, he’s back over me, skillfully removing my skimpy lingerie.
With a playful grin, he tosses the discarded fabric onto Hank. “No peeking, little man. This is grown-up business.”
Hank picks up the discarded lingerie with his mouth, whipping it back and forth as if it were his new favorite toy. Ignoring him, Jackson spreads my legs wide and slides between my already slick folds. A shared moan fills the room, only to be joined by Hank’s howl. My chest spasms with laughter as Jackson glances over and realizes Hank can see straight through the sheer lace.
“Jesus, you brought home a little pervert,” he grumbles, though his playful grin betrays him. He withdraws, then sinks back in.
“Hank is gonna like it here.” I manage to say between my mixture of laughter and moans.
Jackson’s smile deepens. “Makes two of us, Peach.” He leans down, capturing my lips in a kiss that leaves no room for interruption. Hank or otherwise.