Epilogue
quincey
Five years later
“No, I said you could have a sip! Andy!” Brielle reaches across the table, crowded with plates of uneaten chicken strips and french fries smothered in way too much ketchup. My grandson twists in his chair, gripping the plastic red cup full of soda.
“It’s mine!” he shouts, laughing as he struggles to align the straw with his lips. Once he does, he gulps and gulps and gulps. I can’t help but smirk but when I eye my daughter, she’s giving me the ‘Dad, come on’ death glare.
Taking his cup slowly and gently, I lean down, whispering, “You’re sleeping over with Papa this weekend, remember? We’ll get soda and pizza. Don’t worry. Let’s not irritate Mommy.”
The fit he was about to throw melts from his face and he beams up at me, his shining blue eyes an exact match of my daughter’s. My grandson twists to face my son, Archie, and asks, “Is it your turn to pick the toppings?”
Andy and Archie have sleepovers every two weeks. When they do, the parents enjoy a few bottles of wine, catch up on any news that doesn’t involve cartoon characters, and in general, bask in the beautiful lives we’ve created.
At age five, their sleepovers have begun to get… rambunctious. Augustus, Lance and I all privately questioned our abilities to keep up with the boys, as we’re the older ones of the group. The fear that we’d be viewed as old dads, or in my case, a really old dad since Andy is my grandson, drove us to purchase a family gym membership. The three of us work out in the mornings, and Brielle and Winnie have their time in the evenings.
I’ve never felt so young, alive and energized before. Truth be told, I don’t know that the fitness has a whole bunch to do with it. Happiness could be the secret.
“You can pick ‘em. I started likin’ mushrooms,” Archie says, pushing a curl off of his forehead as he leans down to slurp the remains of soup from his mom’s bowl. No matter what he orders, he always wants some of hers.
Winnie appears, Rosie on her hip, a package of wipes in her chubby little hands. “Okay, all changed. We’re ready.” She looks between the boys. “Potty? It’s a forty-five-minute drive otherwise.”
Archie and Andy both get up, and I follow them because five-year-olds cannot be trusted in a bathroom alone, that much we’ve learned. Passing Winnie, I give her a kiss, tickling my daughter’s belly as she reaches for me. “Da da!”
“Daddy’s taking brother and cousin potty,” I hear Winnie reassure her. “Mama and Rosie are going to the car with your big sis, Brielle.”
After the boys have washed up, I help get Andy clipped into his seat, kissing my daughter on the cheek. “Tell Aug and Lance that I got that dry rub they liked from last week. I have a bag of stuff for them. If you guys come by when we aren’t home, don’t forget to grab it.”
I kiss her cheek again, then kiss my grandson on the cheek, and stroke my hand through his hair.
“Will do, Dad. They’re sorry they missed lunch.”
I smile. “If anyone understands,” I remind her. With five adults in high-powered, driven, and successful careers, we do a lot of co-parenting and helping each other. The kids are close, and we’re a very close, loving family because of it.
I almost can’t believe that this is our lives, considering when Brielle graduated from college, we barely spoke. Now her partners are my best friends, and she and I are closer than ever. And Brielle and Winnie? The closest they’ve ever been.
Lance and Augustus had to stay in the studio today, because they opened a new production location and the lighting was being delivered. Brielle wanted to be there because she’s the reason they’re opening a second location—her mini-series a few years back was and is still so successful, they were able to grow Crave & Cure. I’m so proud of her. She couldn’t go, however, because she is moments away from giving birth. We did, however, drive out to the new location to see it. Winnie and I didn’t want Brielle to go alone, but the boys wanted to see, so it was a family visit, followed by lunch.
After waving Brielle off, I slide into the backseat of our car, and finish clipping Rosie into her car seat, teaching Archie how to fasten his belt, too. By the time I make it to the driver’s seat, Winnie has managed to pull the seat belt around herself and clip it, leaning back as she struggles for a breath.
“Soon, baby,” I reassure her, reaching over the console to find my favorite spot—the inside of her thigh. She closes her legs, pushing my hand a little closer to her panties. I cast her a knowing look across the cab as Archie talks to Rosie quietly in the backseat. “It’s nearly an hour to get home,” I remind her, knowing how she gets.
As promised, Winnie is pregnant. Again. I told her once we started making babies that she wouldn’t get a break, and I meant it. I can’t keep my hands off her and even more dangerously, she can’t keep her hands off of me. She loves my cock and even more, she loves being pregnant and having kids. There is only one downside to all of this: she’s extremely horny when she’s pregnant, and when she’s this close to giving birth? She’s dangerously horny.
I’ve been woken up with her already riding me, I’ve had more showers interrupted than not, I have received many nude photos and sexual videos via text message, I’ve walked in on her pleasuring herself while she calls out my name, and she’s even fingered herself in the movie theater because she was so desperate she couldn’t wait.
It’s a ride. A ride that I never envisioned riding at fifty-three years old, but a ride you’d have to fucking pry my cold dead body off of now.
“Just your pinky,” she whispers, chewing her bottom lip as she gives me heavy, seductive blinks across the car. “Please, Big Daddy,” she whines quietly.
I grip the wheel harder, checking my side mirror to see if I can change lanes. Speeding up, I glance her way. “Not with the kids in the car,” I tell her, even though she knew that would be my answer.
Winnie twists in the seat, peering back at our kids. “Did you have fun at lunch?” she asks, her soft matronly tone making my chest squeeze. She is such an excellent, caring mother, and because of her, I’m a better father.
“Yeah,” Archie yawns. “I’m tired.”
“Once we get home, you and Rosie can take a nice long nap. Then we’ll go for a walk near the pier before dinner. How’s that sound?” Rosie isn’t sure of what Winnie is saying, but she kicks her little feet, feeding off of Winnie’s happy, calm tone.
“Can we feed the birds?” Archie asks through a yawn.
“Sure,” Winnie says, “I think Daddy saved some of the sourdough from last week. We can take that.”
I squeeze her thigh as she settles in her seat. “We’re not napping, are we?” I whisper.
She smirks. “H-e-double hockey sticks no,” she says with a silky, seductive smile.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I’m met with the most gorgeous sight. My wife, completely nude, sitting in the middle of our bed, her head tipped against the tufted headboard, her hands moving over her swollen belly, legs spread wide.
She became my wife shortly after Archie was born, mostly because she didn’t want to get married while pregnant. We had a small ceremony in our yard, with just our family members. The ceremony was small, but the ring is fucking huge. I tried to find a ring that embodied all that I feel for Winnie, but I quickly realized there isn’t a rock big enough for that. I settled on four carats. The best part of it? Listening to her refer to me as her husband. Fucking bricks me up.
“God,” she breathes, her eyes raking over my body as if I’m the sight for sore eyes. They linger on my abs before dropping to my cock, already hard despite the fact nothing’s happened yet. Still, just seeing her naked body, breasts full of milk for my children, belly nearly bursting with our child, her curls wilder than ever—it’s the hottest, most beautiful, picturesque scene. “Get over here and fuck me before I die,” she complains, sliding down the bed, resting her head on a pillow. I slide into bed next to her, and sink my fingers into her hair, turning her to face me. Our lips lock, and we kiss for what feels like hours, moaning, heavy breathing, my other hand rubbing her belly.
Finally she breaks free, looking down between us where her breasts leak freely against my chest, wetting the sheet below. “They need you,” she whispers, kneading one of her breasts. “I need you,” she says, tucking a pillow behind her head to sit up a few more inches. I reach between her legs, finding her cunt swollen and wet, so wet that her thighs are sticky and she moans at the first touch.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, letting my tongue follow the streams of milk curving the underside of her breast, dripping down her belly.
“I need you, Big Daddy,” she manages, her eyes falling closed as I sink two fingers inside of her, my thumb resting on her clit. The sound of her wetness fills the room as I finger fuck her, letting my mouth seal over her nipple. A few sucks and warm milk rushes onto my tongue.
“You’re so sweet, Win,” I praise, moving my mouth between her breasts, with her guidance, still moving my hand between her legs. Her belly nudges my cock, making me groan.
“Feel my belly? Feel my big belly against your hard cock? Drink the milk I made for your babies while you fuck my belly,” she whimpers, kinkier than ever.
It’s hard for us to make love in many positions when she’s this close to giving birth. Also hard? Me lasting. She’s so swollen and wet when she’s pregnant, I resort to thinking about baseball and sewing in order to get her off before me. Once, before I even got inside of her, my cock rubbed against her belly, and she said, “Oh god, your cock on my belly,” and that was it. I came all over her. Her belly looked like an iced fucking cupcake.
But fuck was it hot.
“Big Daddy, are you gonna unload those big, heavy balls all over my belly? Are you?” she begs, licking her lips as she pushes her fingers through my hair, watching me as I lick her nipple, then relatch. With each long drink I take from her, she moans, her cunt clenching around my fingers like she’s close.
“Hmm,” I moan, rolling her onto her side. Hooking my hand around her knee, I lift her leg and my cock slips into her cunt with ease. Reaching around, I rub her belly as I rut into her on our sides, not taking my eyes from the mirror on the wall.
Her tits jiggle, milk dripping and splashing all over our bed as I fuck her hard. She collects some of it with her fingers, reaching her arm over her shoulder to find my mouth. I lick her milk from her fingers as I stroke in and out of her, loving the way she holds her leg up for me to fuck her deeper.
“Fuck, Win, I can’t wait to breed you again. You look so good bred, so fucking beautiful with my baby in your belly and your tits full of milk.”
“Yes, oh fuck, keep your slut bred, please,” she moans, writhing in my arms, against my chest as I continue plunging into her deep on our sides.
“Baby, I’m close,” I warn. She moves to her hands and knees, facing the mirror, and I get to my knees behind her, sliding my cock back into her heaven. We both groan, stilling for a moment before I pick up my momentum, fucking her hard. She loves the feel of me fucking her hard and deep, and I love watching her take it. I keep my eyes on her reflection in the mirror ahead, my orgasm building with each drop of cream that beads on her nipple and drips into our bed.
“Fill me up, Big Daddy, please,” she squirms, reaching one hand down to rub her belly. I can’t keep my eyes off the sight of her in the mirror, touching the belly I gave her, full breasts dripping, cheeks flushed.
“You wanna come with me, Mama? C’mon, come for me, baby, I’m gonna come,” I grit out, my voice hoarse, breathing frantic as I sloppily pick up my pace, fucking her in wild, ruthless strokes. “Come for me, Mama,” I groan as my stomach clenches, my balls tighten and I lose control, rocketing off deep inside her.
When I think I’m spent and every last drop of my soul has left my body and entered hers, her hungry little cunt clenches all around me, her orgasm milking a second from me with ease.
“Shit, baby,” I groan, curling my fingers into her hips as she twitches and moans, coming hard on my cock as I fill her again in short, quick bursts.
As we float down from our orgasmic high, I scramble off the bed and help her do the same. I run her a bath and help her in, bringing her a Diet coke to enjoy while she soaks.
“You want me to set your laptop up in bed with the lap desk? You gonna work on Kennedy’s thing?” I ask her as I wash my face at the sink, trying to splash away the heat that still lingers in my skin. Even after coming inside my wife twice, I still need a splash of cold water on my face to remind me that I indeed must get back to work and do my job.
She smirks at me beneath the layer of bubbles. “I actually finished last night when I was up to nurse Rosie.”
I turn off the sink and work on my tie. “Really? Oh baby, she’s gonna be thrilled. It looked excellent last time I saw it.”
In the last two years, Winnie convinced Kennedy that she should open her own executive assistant agency, where she places high end assistants with high powered employers. She’s already placed several assistants with a handful of clients, with more applicants waiting. Winnie built her business’s website, as well as designed their company letterhead and business cards.
“It’s even better now. I can’t wait for you to see it,” she smiles, letting her curls sink into the warm water.
“I’m gonna put some hours in. Call me if you need anything,” I tell her, holding my tie as I bend to kiss her. Her tongue sweeps along mine, and we kiss long enough to make me hard. There is no quick goodbye kiss for us. The passion lives on, this many years later. I fucking love it.
I fucking love her.
On the way into the office, Lance calls me.
“Q? It’s time. Brielle’s water broke.” His voice is frazzled, and even though they already have one, I know childbirth makes Lance extremely nervous.
“I’ll tell Winnie. Are you guys heading in? Let Aug drive,” I suggest, sensing his nerves.
“Contractions started after she got home from lunch, she said, so we left the studio and thank God we did. As soon as we got home, her water broke.” There’s chatter in the background, and I realize the four of them are in the car, driving to the hospital.
“Can I meet you somewhere and grab Andy?” I offer.
“I don’t think there’s time,” Aug says over the speakerphone. “She says she already needs to push.”
“Okay,” I reply, excitement burning through my veins. “Let me call Winnie and we’ll be down there as soon as we can.”
I tell my daughter I love her, tell my sons-in-law to hang in there, and then I hang up and call my wife, pulling off the downtown street to park temporarily.
“Win,” I greet when she answers. “B is in labor. They’re on their way to the hospital.”
“Well,” she says, “we’ll see them there, then.”
“Yeah, I’ll come get you and the kids now, I’m not far. Probably ten minutes away.”
She groans. “Big Daddy,” she says slowly. “My water just broke, too.”
And just like that, my fourth child is on the way, and my second grandchild, too. As much as I love the man I am now, a part of me smiles at the Quincey that barged into Brielle’s apartment.
If I’d never been an asshole, I wouldn’t have this life.