Epilogue #2
I tease her with one finger, sliding through her folds without penetrating, circling her entrance until she’s pushing back against me, desperate for more, for fullness, for me.
I chuckle, dark and satisfied, and finally push two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that makes her moan and her knees weak.
“Please,” she pants, watching in the mirror as I work her, my arm muscles flexing with every movement, my eyes never leaving hers.
“What do you need?” I add a third finger, stretching her, preparing her, and she moans at the fullness, at the promise of more, at the knowledge of what’s coming.
“I need your cock.” The words tear from her throat. “Please, Daddy, fuck me. I can’t wait any longer. I need you inside me.”
I withdraw my fingers slowly, deliberately, and bring them to my mouth to suck them clean while she watches, her face burning, her body aching.
Then my hand comes back down and settles over her clit. I work her with the flat of two fingers, slow and steady, right up to the edge—until her thighs start to shake and her breath goes ragged and her eyes go wide.
And I stop.
“Oh, God—”
“No, angel. Try again.”
“Daddy.” It comes out wrecked.
“Better.” I start again. Take her back up. Stop again, right at the top. This time, she sobs with it, her knuckles white on the edge of the counter.
My other hand comes up and closes around her throat—not squeezing, just there, spanning her, holding her upright and steady and exactly where I want her. I tilt her head back against my shoulder so she can’t look anywhere but the mirror.
“Don’t close your eyes,” I tell her. “I want you watching when I give it to you.”
Her eyes stay locked on mine in the glass.
“Look at you,” I murmur, my fingers sliding through the evidence of her arousal, spreading it over her folds. “So desperate. So perfect. You want to come, don’t you? You’ve been close since you had my cock in your mouth.”
“Yes!”
“No.” I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her, teasing, stretching. “Not yet. You’re going to come on my cock, Nadia.”
I slam into her in one stroke, filling her, bottoming out with a force that drives the air from her lungs. Her mouth falls open in a silent scream. She’s so tight, so hot, and the angle has me hitting something inside her that makes her eyes widen.
I don’t give her time to adjust. I pull back and thrust again, hard, setting a rhythm that drives her up onto her toes, which has her gripping the sink even tighter.
“Watch,” I command, my hand still spanning her throat, holding her head up. “Watch while I claim you. While I remind you who you belong to. While I fuck you like you need to be fucked.”
She watches. I can see it in her face, the way her eyes track our reflections, the way her breath comes in desperate gasps. I watch too, watch my cock disappear inside her with every thrust, watch her breasts bounce, watch her eyes locked on mine in the mirror, not looking away once.
“Who does this pussy belong to?” I demand, my voice rough.
“You, Daddy. Only you.”
“That’s right.” I thrust harder, angling to hit that sensitive spot deep inside her. “And who are you?”
“Yours.” The word tears from her throat. “I’m yours. Y-your wife…”
“My everything.” I grip her chin and turn her head, kissing her deeply, my tongue claiming her mouth while my cock claims her body.
I feel it when she starts to come, feel her clenching around me, feel her body tensing, arching, trembling. Every nerve I have lights up at once. This isn’t a wave. It’s a detonation, a complete obliteration of everything I am, reducing me to pure sensation.
She clenches around me so hard I falter, my rhythm breaking, and she screams my name, screams Daddy, until she’s sobbing with it. But I don’t stop. I’m right at the edge, and I chase it.
“Again,” I growl, my hand finding her clit, pressing hard, rubbing in rough circles that have her gasping, have her climbing toward another peak with terrifying speed.
“I can’t,” she gasps, even as her body proves her wrong, even as I feel the pressure building again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t—”
“You can, angel.” I bite her shoulder, hard enough to mark. “Come for me again, wife. Show me how much you love taking my cock. Show me how much you need this.”
I pound into her, relentless, my fingers working her clit with precision, and I feel it building in me, feel the second wave rising, inevitable and overwhelming, just as she grips me hard.
When it hits, it’s deeper than the first, radiating from my core outward until even my fingertips are digging into her waist.
“Nadia!” I yell, thrusting deep and holding there, pulsing inside her with a groan that tears from my chest, my forehead dropping to her shoulder as we both shake through the aftershocks.
For a long moment, we just breathe. The shower has been running the whole time, and the room has gone thick with steam, the mirror fogging over until we’re nothing but two shapes in it. I slip out of her slowly, carefully, and she whimpers at the loss, at the sudden emptiness.
“Shh.” I turn her around, lift her easily, and carry her into the spray, setting her down on the marble bench so she doesn’t have to hold herself up. “I’ve got you. I always have you.”
I reach for the shower gel and pour it into my palm, then begin to wash her with the same thoroughness I always show her. My hands slide over her shoulders, her arms, her stomach.
And despite everything, despite two orgasms that have left her boneless and trembling, I feel her shiver under my touch, that familiar flutter of renewed interest.
“Greedy,” I murmur and catch myself smiling.
“Your fault,” she accuses weakly, leaning into me.
I laugh, the sound warm and intimate in the small space, the water cascading over us both. “I love you, wife.”
“I love you too, husband.”
She presses her face into my chest, and I feel her relax completely, the tension draining out of her as she breathes me in. I tilt her face up for a kiss that tastes like promises kept, like futures secured, like everything I never knew I wanted and now can’t imagine living without.
???
Nadia
By the time the hotel concierge calls to let us know River’s family has arrived, I’ve managed to convince myself of approximately fifty different ways to embarrass myself before dinner.
River, naturally, finds this hilarious. “You’ll be fine.”
“You’ve said that twelve times.”
He reaches for my hand as we ride the elevator downstairs. “They’re just people.”
“They’re your people.”
“They’re your people now too.”
The words settle warmly in my chest. I don’t have time to respond before the elevator doors slide open. A woman with River’s hazel eyes, hers a brighter shade, spots us immediately.
“There they are!”
Before I can even process what’s happening, she crosses the lobby with surprising speed. “Nadia!”
I barely manage to smile before she’s wrapping me in the biggest hug I’ve ever received.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says as she pulls back to look at me. “We’ve been dying to meet you.”
My nervousness falters. Beside her stands a tall man with silver beginning to creep into his dark hair, his expression kind and quietly amused. River’s father, Anthony. River has his same face. He steps forward next.
“Welcome to the family.” Another hug.
Then another. Within moments, I’m being introduced to all three of them at once.
Devin is thirty-two and the tallest of the four of them by an inch, which I gather is a long-running grievance.
Becca is thirty, flew in from Denver, and has River’s exact scowl.
Lucia is twenty-six and appears to have been designated the family’s official archivist of embarrassing photographs.
All three of them start talking over one another while teasing River about everything from his beard to the fact that he somehow managed to get married before any of them.
“You were the last person I expected to settle down,” Becca says.
“So were we,” Devin agrees.
River sighs dramatically. “I can still hear all of you.”
“Good,” his mother, who has insisted I call her Molly, replies. “You’re supposed to.”