Epilogue Two
Rowan
Five years later
I open the door of the Bentley and step outside into the sun. It’s the start of summer, and all the peonies I brought into our garden five years ago have bloomed again.
Their sweet scent tells me I’m home, and quickens my pace toward the sliding glass door at the back of the house—already open, like we leave it every time it gets warm. The curtains sway lazily with the gentle wind, bringing laughter and voices on its trail.
“Yes, just like that. Now move it a bit from side to side and… That’s it. You did it!” my wife exclaims, followed by the sound of a smooch. I smile and push the soft curtain to the side, leaning against the window frame.
There, at the marbled kitchen island, my wife stands next to our four-year-old son, whose cheeks are almost entirely covered in flour. Arvin’s big brown eyes—his mother’s eyes—look up at her from his kitchen stool, more questions pouring out of him like a faucet with a broken handle.
I laugh to myself, knowing exactly just how bottomless his curiosity is. I love watching them when they don’t know I’m here.
It always looks like a dream, and it feels that much better when I realize I can step into it and live there forever.
“Why can’t we eat the cookies now?” Arvin mumbles.
“Because they aren’t cooked yet,” Dove explains patiently as she sprinkles chocolate chips on the dough. “And we’re waiting for Daddy to come home so we can surprise him. It was your idea, wasn’t it?”
He nods, retracting his small hand from the cookie tray. His little legs stomp a few times before he reels in his control and picks up a teaspoon instead, fidgeting with it.
“But… but why do we need to cook them?”
Dove wipes her hands on the apron she’s wearing and retrieves a towel to clean our son’s face. Surprisingly, he lets her, probably because he’s more invested in the cookies than not having his face touched. A rare sight, indeed.
“Because cooking makes them soft and yummy, and safe to eat. Will you help me put them in the oven?”
He nods, then climbs down from the stool. Dove’s eyes accidentally slide over to mine, and her face lights up. A soft blush creeps in, adding a touch of warmth to her already radiant features.
Her smile widens as she unwraps the apron, and her wavy hair sways from the movement as she comes toward me. She’s wearing white and pink, and she’s more beautiful than ever. My chest shakes with the force of the love I have for this woman. For our family.
“Liar,” she says, pursing her lips. “You said you’d be back later tonight.”
Arvin sees me, and his face lights up too. “Daddy!”
How the fuck did I get so lucky?
“We can’t eat the cookies because they aren’t cooked yet,” he says, reciting the new lesson he just learned.
He collides with my leg, and I wrap my arm around him, pulling him close. Dove presses her body into mine, and I give her a long kiss, her lips molding to mine and opening up for me.
My wife always gets the first kiss—without her, I wouldn’t have my son. She whimpers, and I release her, though I can barely contain myself. We were apart for an entire week. I had work to do in Canberra, and she had to stay in Washington, meeting with Congress to steer things in the right direction.
The criminal justice reform bill is about to get a much-needed update, and it’s all because of my wife’s efforts at the White House.
I pick Arvin up, kissing the top of his head as I walk into the kitchen to where the cookies lie on the tray. I pick one up with my free hand and pretend to eat it.
“Nooo!” he shouts. “Daddy, it isn’t safe and yummy!”
“Nonsense. It smells so good. Surely it must be.”
I bring it to my mouth once again. He wraps his little hands around my wrist, and pulls it away, sheer determination reading on his face. “Mommy said we have… have to wait.”
Dove sighs from behind us and picks up the dough in my hand.
“Enough, you two.” She huffs a laugh as she puts it back on the tray, then shoves everything in the oven. “They’ll be ready by the time you wake up,” she tells Arvin with a smile.
My gaze shifts from her to Renee, the nanny, who timidly steps into the room.
“Oh, good,” she says, bringing her hands together. “I was just about to take Arvin upstairs for his nap.”
I look at him, expecting a few little protests. He’s a good kid and doesn’t fuss about things too much—but he’s still a toddler, and like all toddlers, he has his moments when he couldn’t care less about what we ask him to do.
“I want to stay with Daddy,” he tells her, hiding his face in my uniform jacket. His voice is heavy with the spell of sleep, but his excitement still pokes through the haze.
I run my hand through his soft hair and press another kiss to his forehead. “You’ll go with Renee,” I tell him, my voice firmer this time. He makes a sound of frustration, but it dies down. He knows when I mean business and when I let him fool around. “And when you wake up, we’ll all eat cookies together and watch Badger & Fred . How’s that?”
He lifts his head and looks up at me, a new spark in his eyes.
“Promise?”
“You know I never lie to you,” I tell him.
He knows it, indeed, and it shows when Renee moves closer to pick him up and he doesn’t object this time. She carries him out of the kitchen, and when they’re out of sight, my eyes slide over to my wife.
“Hello, angel,” I say, walking closer to her and pushing her against the counter.
My hand brushes her cheek, bringing her face closer to mine. The sunlight seeps through the large windows, casting shadows on the surface of her hair. I fist my hand in it, as if I’m trying to catch them.
“I missed you.” She gasps, bringing her palms behind my uniform and sliding them down my chest.
I bring a hand down under her skirt, finding her warm pussy. She wiggles, trying to get away.
“Renee is here,” she whispers. “We can’t just—”
“She knows not to bother us when it’s just the two of us,” I say, turning her around and bending her over the counter. I press a hand to her mouth, feeling her soft lips against my skin. She moans, but the sound comes out muffled. “You can be as loud as you want now.” I lower myself to her ear, whispering, “No one will hear you when you scream for me.”
She brings her arms to her sides and hides them under her skirt. When they come back into view, she’s dragging her panties down to her thighs. I smile behind her, loving how needy she is for me. I know that if I touched her pussy she’d be drenched, but I’m not sure what part of her I want to claim first.
“Yes, that’s right, angel. When your husband comes home, you bend over and give him your holes to fuck. What a good, perceptive girl you are.” I pull her skirt up and her round ass welcomes me. The sweet scent of her arousal envelops me, making my cock twitch in my pants.
“What should we do with you, hmm?” I muse, petting her head. “A good wife deserves to take her husband’s cock in her cunt. But a whore likes it better in the ass. And you, angel…” I smile. “You are both at the same time. My beautiful wife. And my needy little slut.”
Bringing her hands out in front of her, she holds onto the edge of the counter, waiting to see what I’ll do. The truth is, I want her tied up, gagged, and fucked in all her holes while I praise and degrade her all night long. And then, I want to fill her with my cum, and have her belly swollen with life again. There’s time for that later, when I take her out for dinner and we spend the night at the hotel below the restaurant.
For now, I simply take my pen out of the inner pocket of my uniform and start sliding it between her pussy from behind. She moans into my hand, rocking into the pen’s touch. The metal must be a little cold, bringing short-lived relief to the warmth between her legs, reminding me of the day I pushed ice cubes into her aching little cunt. I drag the object out, watching her thighs tremble from stealing away her pleasure.
Then I push the pen inside. She cries out, and something wet makes contact with the hand I have on her mouth—fresh tears. The kind she gets when she’s had enough. When I edge her too much and too hard, and she doesn’t have a voice to beg me to come… because I take it away from her in some way. This time is no different. I fuck her with the object for a few seconds, knowing full well it’s not thick enough to create enough friction. It’s just a pen, after all. But every time I pull it out more wetness clings to it, showing me just how horny she is right now.
“I’m going to leave this pen inside your pussy,” I say, doing just that, but holding it in place with my fingers. “And I want you to hold onto it. Don’t let it fall, angel, or I promise you won’t get to come at all today. Is that understood?”
Hesitantly, she nods, and I praise her as I retract my fingers. As expected, it points out of her pussy, clutched in place. I leave her there, bent over the kitchen counter for just a minute, and come back from my office with lube and a gag in hand. I squirt some of the liquid over her asshole and toss it aside.
“Rowan…” she whispers, trying her best to be quiet. “Please—”
“Open your mouth.”
She obeys, and I position the harness of the gag over her head.
Moments ago, she was a pretty little angel with a pink skirt and an innocent look on her face while she taught our son how cookies are made. Now, her cunt is holding my pen, her mouth is sucking on the gag I brought her, and her lubed ass is practically begging to be fucked.
I know I’ve lived a sinful life. I’ve murdered, slaughtered our enemies for everything we now have. But when the devil sees me at the gates of hell one day, I don’t know that he’ll let me walk inside. Because I have sinned, yes, but I have also loved. And I have done so with all my fucking heart.
This woman is my salvation… and not even the devil can deny that.
Thanks for reading Under His Wrath.