Epilogue
Florrie
One Year Later
The late afternoon sun filters through the nursery windows, casting golden light across the pale blue walls. I stand at the crib, watching Niko sleep, his tiny fist curled against his cheek, dark hair already thick like his father's.
One month old today. Born on our fake wedding date.
A year ago, I was stumbling through the wrong door in a club, running from a bad date. Now I'm standing in a nursery I designed myself, watching my son sleep, wearing a wedding ring that feels as natural as breathing.
A year. So much has changed.
I hear Leon's footsteps in the hallway before I see him. I've learned to recognize the sound. Purposeful, confident, but quieter when he's near Niko's room. He appears in the doorway, still in his work clothes, collar loosened, and something in his expression softens when he sees us.
"He's still sleeping," I whisper.
Leon crosses to me, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his chin settling on my shoulder as we both look down at our son. "Good. Means we have time."
"Time for what?"
"To talk." His lips brush my ear. "Doctor's appointment today. What did she say?"
Heat floods my face even though we're married, even though this man has seen every inch of me. "She said I'm healed. Everything looks good. I can... we can..."
"Resume normal activities," Leon finishes, his voice dropping lower. "That's what she said?"
"Yes." I turn in his arms to face him, linking my arms around his neck.
Something dark and hungry flashes in his grey eyes. "Good. Because I've been going insane."
I laugh quietly, pressing my hand against his chest. "It's only been a month."
"A month of sleeping next to you every night, watching you nurse our son, seeing you in those soft sleep shirts with nothing underneath." His hands slide down to my hips. "A month of wanting you and not being able to have you. You have no idea what that does to a man."
"You've been very patient."
"I've been suffering." But there's warmth in his voice, affection mixed with the desire.
I reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. "I've missed you too. Missed this." I drop my hand to the front of his trousers and palm the hardness I find there.
"I need to tell you something," Leon says, regret clouding his face.
Something in his tone makes me tense. "What?"
"Valentin made a move. Three months ago."
My blood goes cold. "What?"
"You were seven months pregnant. I didn't want to worry you." His arms tighten around me. "He sent someone to the estate. To get to you."
"Leon—"
"He didn't get close." His voice is calm, matter-of-fact. "Slav caught him at the perimeter. But it was a message. Valentin was testing our security. Seeing if he could still reach you."
I press closer to him, my heart racing. "What happened?"
"We handled it." The coldness in those three words tells me everything I need to know. "Yury gave the order. Avros and I... dealt with Valentin personally."
"Dealt with?" I whisper.
"He won't be a problem anymore." Leon pulls back enough to look at me. "He won't be anyone's problem anymore."
Relief courses through me, alarming me as much as anything. That shows how much I’ve changed in the last year. Arms deals, money laundering, killing people who threaten what’s theirs…it’s all what being part of the family means.
"You're sure we’re safe?"
"I'm sure." He cups my face. "You're safe. Niko is safe. The threat is gone and a message was sent."
"Why didn't you tell me at the time?"
"Because you were pregnant with our son. Because you were already dealing with enough. Because..." He hesitates. "Because I didn't want you to be afraid in your own home."
"I wouldn't have been afraid." I cover his hands with mine. "Not with you here."
"Florrie—"
"I mean it." I hold his gaze. "A year ago, maybe. But now? I know what you're capable of. I know what this family is capable of. And I know you would burn the world down before you let anyone hurt us."
Something fierce and possessive flares in his eyes. "Damn right I would."
"So no more keeping things from me." I lift my chin. "I'm not fragile. I'm a Dubovich wife. I can handle it."
Pride flashes across his face. "Yes, you are. And yes, you can."
He kisses me then, deep and claiming, and I sink into it. This man who saved my life. Who made me his. Who gave me a son and a family and a purpose I never knew I needed.
When we pull apart, I smile. "You know what else I can handle?"
"What?"
"You. Now. All of you."
His eyes go dark. "Careful, moya krasotka. You're playing with fire."
"Good thing I can handle the heat."
Nikolai makes a small sound in his sleep, and we both freeze, watching. But he settles again, still dreaming whatever babies dream about.
"Come on," I say softly, taking Leon's hand. "Let's go to bed. I think we both need it." I tug him toward the door.
I tug Leon toward the door, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and raw need.
It's been a torturous, endless month of stolen kisses, lingering touches, and nights where I've lain awake beside him, my body aching for more while I healed.
But now? Now, the doctor's words echo in my head like permission granted: I'm ready. We're ready.
He follows without resistance, his grey eyes darkening with that predatory hunger I've come to crave. The hallway feels too long, every step heightening the tension coiling low in my belly. By the time we reach our bedroom, my skin is flushed, my thighs already slick with arousal.
"Strip," he commands, his voice low and rough, laced with the control that makes my knees weak. No preamble, no gentle easing in. He's starved, just like me, and it shows in the way his jaw clenches, his hands flexing at his sides like he's holding back from ripping my clothes off himself.
I obey, my fingers trembling as I pull my shirt over my head, letting it drop to the floor.
My bra follows, the cool air pebbling my nipples instantly.
His gaze devours me, tracing every curve, lingering on the faint stretch marks from carrying Niko, marks he worships like badges of honor.
I shimmy out of my jeans and panties in one go, standing bare before him, exposed and throbbing with need.
"Good girl," he murmurs, stepping closer. One hand cups my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his intense stare. "You've been so patient, moya krasotka. But tonight? Tonight, I take what's mine. All of it." His other hand cups my pussy, his middle finger immediately sliding inside.
A shiver races down my spine. "Yes," I breathe, my voice husky. "I've missed you so much. Missed feeling you inside me, owning me."
His mouth crashes down on mine, the kiss brutal and claiming, his tongue invading with a desperation that mirrors my own. I moan into it, my hands clutching his shirt, but he breaks away too soon, his breath hot against my lips. "On the bed. Hands above your head."
He backs me up, his finger still swirling inside me as I edge toward the bed.
I sink onto the mattress, stretching my arms up as instructed, my body arching instinctively toward him.
He pulls his finger from me and sheds his clothes with efficient grace, revealing the hard planes of his tattooed chest, the V of his hips leading down to his cock, already thick and straining, already leaking at the tip.
God, I've missed this sight, missed him.
He climbs over me, his weight pressing me down, and reaches for the drawer in the nightstand.
My pulse spikes when I see what he pulls out: soft silk ties, the ones we've used before.
"Remember these?" he asks, his voice a dark promise.
"I'm going to bind you, Florrie. Keep you open and helpless while I remind you who you belong to. "
"Yes," I whimper, my core clenching at the thought. The kink of it, the surrender, ignites something primal in me. After a month of restraint, I need his control, need him to dominate and drive us both over the edge.
He loops the silk around my wrists, securing them to the headboard with practiced knots. Not too tight, but firm enough that I can't escape. I test them, tugging lightly, and the restraint sends a flood of heat between my legs. "Leon..."
"Shh." He trails a finger down my body, from my bound wrists over my collarbone, circling one nipple until it's a tight peak, then pinching hard enough to make me gasp. Pain blurs into pleasure, and I arch up, begging for more.
He pulls more silk ties from the drawer and I immediately know where this is going.
“Please?” he asks. “I need it.”
I nod my head and adjust my position so I’m comfortable when he wraps the silk around my ankle and lifts, tying the other end to the headboard. He leans back and takes in the view or me spread before him.
"Fuck Florrie. You've been such a good mother to our son. You’re such a good wife to me. Now let me reward you. Let me pleasure you until you're screaming my name. Begging me to fill you again. Squirting all over me."
He fists his cock while his eyes roam over my core, bare and aching for him. Then he pushes two fingers inside me.
I'm soaked, embarrassingly wet, and he groans as he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
"So tight. So ready. You've been clenching around nothing for a month, haven't you? Dreaming of my cock filling you up."
"Yes—oh god, yes," I pant, my hips bucking against his hand. He adds a third finger, stretching me, pumping slowly, letting the pressure build in my starved and oversensitive body. "Leon, I'm—fuck—I'm close already."
"Not yet." He pulls his hand away abruptly, and I whine in frustration, tugging at the ties. His chuckle is dark, wicked. "You come when I say, moya krasotka. And only around my cock. I want to feel you milk me, drench me, quiver around me…"
He presses on my thighs, pushing them further apart and watching my pussy open for him.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Florrie, and all mine.”
He positions himself between my legs, his hands either side of my ribs. The head of his cock notches at my entrance, teasing, and I strain against the bonds, desperate to pull him in.
"Beg for it," he demands, his control absolute, even as I see the tremor in his arms, the sweat beading on his forehead. He's as starved as I am, but he's drawing it out, savoring the power.
"Please, Leon," I sob, my voice breaking with need. "Fuck me. Hard. Fill me up, breed me again and again. Just take me, own me, make me yours."
His eyes flash with feral heat at the breeding talk, a kink we've explored before, one that turns him into a beast.
"Fuck yes," he growls. "I’ve been saving this for you, Florrie. You’ll get a months’ worth of cum to fill you up. Put another baby in you. You're mine to breed, mine to claim."
He slams into me in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
The stretch is exquisite, bordering on pain after so long without him, but it's perfect.
Filling the emptiness I've felt for weeks.
I cry out, my walls clenching around him like a vice, and he stills for a second, groaning deep in his chest.
"So fucking tight. God, I've missed this pussy."
Then he moves, pulling out almost completely before driving back in, setting a punishing rhythm.
Each thrust hits deep, grinding against that spot inside me, his hips snapping with raw power.
The bed creaks under us, my bound hands and ankles pulling taut as I arch my tits up into him, meeting every stroke as much as I can.
His mouth finds my neck, biting down, marking me while one hand slips between us to rub my clit in tight circles.
"I can’t wait to feel you come on my cock," he grunts, his voice strained, close to the edge himself. "Soak my cock, Florrie. Show me how much you needed this."
The orgasm rips through me like wildfire, my vision blurring as I shatter around him. I scream his name, my body convulsing, gushing wet heat that slicks our thighs. He doesn't stop, fucking me through it, prolonging the waves until I'm oversensitive and begging.
"Fuck, you're squeezing me so good," he grits out, his thrusts turning erratic.
He buries himself deep and explodes, his cock pulsing as he floods me with heat, rope after rope of cum filling me. The sensation tips me over again, a second orgasm crashing on the heels of the first, milking him dry. He shudders, collapsing on his elbows over me, our bodies slick and trembling.
Then he pulls back, pulls out. I immediately miss the fullness of him. He looks at my pussy in wonderment, his cock still twitching.
Suddenly he takes his cock in his hand and squeezes, as a final spurt of cum escapes him and splatters against my pussy.
“Fuck,” he pants, “Your cunt looks magnificent.” His whole body shivers as the last drops of his release drip from him and onto me.
He reaches up with some reluctance, untying my ankles and wrists with gentle fingers, rubbing the faint red marks before pulling me into his arms. "You okay?" he murmurs, pressing kisses to my forehead.
"More than okay," I whisper, curling into him, sated and loved. "I needed that. Needed you. Needed to feel like a woman instead of a cow."
“You’re not just a woman, you’re everything.”