Epilogue
Zak - Three Months Later
Today’s the day. Nadia thinks we’re just having a romantic dinner at home. She has no idea what I’ve been planning.
When I head downstairs. She’s in the kitchen with Crabby, who got even fatter. Bastard owns this whole fucking house. Everyone loves and spoils him.
“Ready?” I ask.
She turns, and like every time my eyes land on my wife, my heart seizes.
She’s wearing a sexy black dress that molds to her mouthwatering curves.
Hair down. So fucking beautiful I have to rearrange myself in my slacks.
Fuck, wish we had time for a quickie… She eyes me knowingly and I shake my head, returning her smirk.
We walk down the hallway to the dining room.
I open the door, and she freezes. The room is filled with people.
My parents, my brothers and sister. Nadia’s parents, her sister, her best friend, Leah.
Everyone dressed up and smiling. There are flowers everywhere, lit candles, and soft music playing over the sound system.
Nadia’s mouth falls open. “Zak, what is happening?”
“A wedding,” I reply calmly, taking in her gorgeous face, soaking up her emotions.
“But we’re already married!”
“I know.” I pull her closer, my hand low on her back. “Baby, the first time was a mess. A group ceremony? Me bleeding…” Her big brown eyes widen. “I want to do it right.”
“Baby…” She sounds choked up.
“I want to marry you again. In front of the people we love and the entire world.”
Her eyes fill with tears as she nods, cupping my face. Then, because she’s my Nadia, she punches my chest. “You, asshole. If I knew, I would’ve worn something nicer!”
I laugh, grab her hand, and kiss it. “You’re perfect.”
She shakes her head, laughing through her tears. “I’m gonna kill you.”
“Later. Right now, you’re marrying me.”
Her sister, Mira, rushes over, smirking. “We’ve been planning this for weeks.”
Nadia’s mouth falls open. “You knew?”
“Everyone knew,” Leah interjects, joining us. “It’s been so freaking hard to keep it secret!”
Nadia looks at me, at our families and friends, the decorations, and starts full-on sobbing.
“Hey,” I say softly, wiping her tears with my thumbs. “No crying, baby.”
She sniffles, looking so damn cute I want to throw her over my shoulder and walk out of here, leaving everyone stranded.
“They’re happy tears, you idiot.”
I chuckle, leaning to press my forehead to hers. “So you’ll marry me? Again?”
“Yes.” She laughs through her tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you again, you crazy man.”
* * *
The ceremony is beautiful and totally us. Nadia’s still glaring at me between tears, but also smiling.
When it’s time for our vows, I take her hands.
“Sweetheart.” My voice comes out heavy with emotion.
“Three months ago, you accidentally became my wife.” She laughs along with everyone else.
“Best fucking accident of my life,” I continue, garnering more amusement.
“You patched me up, gave me shit, made me laugh.” I pause to cup the side of her face.
“You made me want things I never thought I did.” I rub the pad of my thumb over her cheek, soaking up the reflection of my own love shining through her pretty eyes.
“You’re brave, fierce, and stubborn. You don’t take my shit.
” I take her hands and squeeze them. “You make me a better man.” She lets out a choked sound.
“I will protect you, provide for you, fucking worship you. Until the grave and beyond.” I lean closer, lowering my voice for her ears only.
“And I promise to keep you so full of me you forget where you end and I begin.”
She chokes on a watery laugh. “Zak!”
I wink. “Say your vows now, baby.”
She takes a shaky breath. “Okay. Um… Zakhar Maksimov. You’re bossy, possessive, and completely insane.
” She counts on her fingers, making me grin, and the room around us laughs again.
“But you’re also protective and generous.
You make me feel safe, cherished.” She squeezes my hands.
“You make me laugh…even when I want to murder you.” Everyone laughs.
“I love you,” she whispers. “And I choose you. Today, tomorrow. Always.” I wipe her face with the pad of my thumb again.
The officiant asks, “The rings?”
There’s a pause, then Crabby appears, waddling down the makeshift aisle, a tiny velvety pillow strapped to his back with the rings on it.
Nadia gasps. “You made Crabby the ring bearer?!”
I shrug. “He insisted.”
She’s laughing and crying now.
I pick up the rings. Slide hers on her finger. It’s bigger than my grandmother’s, flashier, something I know she won’t wear often, but I fucking love seeing that huge-ass diamond on my wife’s hand.
“Still mine, love,” I murmur. “But this time, you chose it.”
She shakes her head, “I chose you months ago, my love.”
* * *
Later that night, after everyone leaves, we’re in our bedroom. My wife’s smiling huge, looking happy, fucking glowing.
“It was perfect, baby,” she says softly. “Absolutely perfect.”
I close the distance between us, cup her face, and kiss her deep. She melts into me, her hands sliding up my chest. When I pull back, we’re both breathing hard.
“I need to tell you something,” I say.
“Okay…”
“I think we’re pregnant.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I think you’re pregnant, baby. About six weeks.”
“How do you…” She stops, squints at me. “You’ve been tracking my cycle.”
“Of course I have.”
“Zak!”
“I’m a stalker husband. You knew this.”
She’s trying to be mad, but also smiling. “You really think we might be pregnant?”
I kiss her forehead. “Yes, sweetheart.”
Her hand goes to her stomach. “Oh, my God. I thought I was just tired from work…” She looks up at me, eyes shining. “We could be having a baby.”
“We are having a baby.”
She launches herself at me. I catch her and spin her around. When I set her down, she’s laughing and crying.
“I can’t believe you caught it before me.”
“I know everything about you, baby.”
“Creep.” I chuckle, shameless, and she kisses me hard.
I drop to my knees, placing my hands on her soft stomach. “You’re mine,” I murmur against the fabric of her dress. “Both of you.”
“Yours,” she whispers, running her hands over my hair.
I gently kiss her stomach again, then I stand and scoop her up to carry her to the bed.
“We’re celebrating.”
I lay her down, strip off my jacket, my tie, unbutton my shirt. Her eyes darken, traveling over my chest, my tattoos.
“I love these,” she murmurs, reaching up to trace the ink on my ribs.
“Yeah?”
Her fingers follow the lines, the words, the drawings. “Mm. I want to lick every single one.”
“Later.” I grab her wrist to pin it above her head. “Right now, I need to fuck my pregnant wife.”
She shivers. “Potentially pregnant.”
I chuckle, kissing her as my free hand slides up her thigh, under her dress, where I find her soaking wet.
“Fuck, baby.”
She gives me a sassy gaze from under her long lashes, dragging her bottom lip through her teeth, “Yeah?”
I shake my head, helping her strip off until she’s in nothing but dark red lace. Looking so fucking good, I want to eat her whole. So I do. I take my time. Kissing every inch of her. Her neck. Her collarbone. Between her breasts. Dragging my stubble over her sensitive skin.
“Everyone’s going to see that,” she breathes.
“Good.” I kiss the mark. “Want them to know you’re mine.”
“Possessive bastard.”
“Your possessive bastard.”
I slide her panties down and spread her legs, then I worship her with my mouth, my fingers.
Make her shake and beg. When she comes, she cries out my name, her hands fisting in my hair, riding my face like the fucking glorious queen she is.
And I don’t stop. I need every fucking thing from her.
My wife. The mother of my child. So I keep going, pushing her higher.
“Zak, I can’t…”
“You can,” I growl, curling my fingers inside her. “Give me another one, baby. Just one more…”
And, of course, she does. Falling apart again and again. Giving me everything. Her sweet cream, her lovely cries. Smothering me with her thighs, riding my face. Fucking beautiful.
I strip off the rest of my clothes and settle between her thighs, grab her left hand to bring it to my mouth and kiss her ring.
“My wife,” I growl.
She cups my face, and I turn to kiss her palm. “My husband.”
I push inside her sweet, hot, wet, fucking perfect cunt. Deep. Slow.
We both groan.
“Fuck, sweetheart!”
She moans, “You feel so fucking good…”
I start moving in long, deep strokes, watching her face, drinking up every gasp, each hitch in her breath, flutter of her eyes, and loud, wrecked moan.
I bring my hands around her throat and hold, squeezing just a little. Just enough to make things interesting… Her eyes fly open, pupils blown wide with lust.
“Mine,” I growl, my hips snapping into hers.
“Yours,” she answers raggedly, lifting to meet my thrusts.
I fuck her hard and faster. Fucking loving the feel of her, the sounds we’re making, our mixed scents, my gorgeous wife writhing under me. Fucking taking everything I’m giving her. Her big tits bouncing, soft belly and thick thighs filling my big hands.
She clenches around me. “Zak!”
“That’s it, baby. Come for me.”
She fucking explodes, shaking, writhing, crying out. And I follow, fucking roaring her name, pumping everything I got into her, fucking marking her inside and out. My thick, hot cum filling her womb, the pads of my thick fingers digging into her soft flesh…
When we finally start coming down, we’re both breathing hard, covered in sweat.
I lean to lick a long path between her breasts.
Lingering to suck on the full flesh, nibble on a still erect nipple.
Making her moan and roll her hips under me, pull at my hair, her wrecked pussy still finding the strength to squeeze my cock. Fuck!
Eventually, I roll us, pulling her on top of me. My wife has my marks all over her skin, my ring on her finger, my cum, and I hope my baby, in her belly. Fucking perfect.
She traces patterns on my chest. “I love you, husband.”
“I love you too, wife.”
My hand settles on her stomach. Still flat, but not for long…
THE END.