Epilogue
Emily:
Six months later:
The lights of the TV studio are almost blinding.
I’m standing just off to the side, hidden in the shadows, but I can feel the heat from them, can hear the buzz of the audience, the low murmur of the crew.
My hands are resting on the swell of my belly, and I can feel the baby kick, a light flutter against my palm.
A secret little hello from our son or daughter.
Luke is on a plush armchair in the center of the stage, looking devastatingly handsome in dark gray slacks, a crisp white shirt, and no tie.
The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a sliver of the strong, muscular chest I know so well.
His brown hair is styled just so, a few rebellious strands falling across his forehead, and his blue eyes are bright, animated, completely captivating.
He’s in his element, charming and charismatic, laughing easily at the host’s jokes.
He’s talking about his latest movie, a gritty thriller that’s already rumored to be an awards season contender.
He’s thoughtful, articulate, and incredibly humble, deflecting praise and giving credit to the director, the cast, and the crew.
“So, Luke,” the host, a woman with a perfect smile and a sharp tongue, says, leaning forward conspiratorially.
“The movie is a massive success, your career is hotter than ever. You seem to be on top of the world. But we have to ask... what about your personal life? For years, you’ve been famously private about your relationships.
But there have been some... recent developments. ”
I feel a flutter of nerves, my heart starting to beat a little faster.
I know what’s coming. Luke had warned me this might happen, had asked if I was okay with him talking about us.
I told him yes, of course. I’m proud to be his wife.
Proud to be carrying his child. But it’s one thing to know it’s coming, and another thing to actually be the subject of discussion on national television.
Luke’s smile softens, a subtle shift that only I would probably notice. His gaze flickers over to me, just for a second, a quick, reassuring glance that says, “I’ve got this.”
“Well, as you know,” he says, following the host’s example and leaning forward, “my personal life has been... non-existent for a very long time. I was focused on my work, and I was happy. Or at least, I thought I was.”
He pauses, and the audience is completely silent, hanging on his every word.
“And then I met Emily,” he says, and the way he says my name makes my breath catch. “And everything changed.”
The audience erupts into a chorus of “awws” and scattered applause. The host is practically glowing, her perfect smile widening.
“Tell us everything!” she exclaims. “How did you two meet? Was it love at first sight? Give us all the details!”
Luke chuckles, a low, warm sound. “Well, she worked in the wardrobe department on the movie I just finished,” he explains. “I knew from the moment I saw her that she was different. That she was the one for me.”
He looks directly at me, and my heart does a little flip. His blue eyes are full of so much love that it takes my breath away.
“And it didn’t take me long to convince her of that, either,” he adds, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “We got married a month after we first got together.”
The audience goes wild. The host is fanning herself dramatically. “A month! That’s... that’s incredible!” she sputters. “So, it was a whirlwind romance, then?”
“Definitely,” Luke confirms with a grin. “But I’ve never been happier. Or more in love. Emily is... she’s everything to me. She’s my entire world.”
My eyes are welling up with tears, and I have to blink them back, not wanting to smear my mascara. He’s so perfect. So thoughtful, so loving. And he’s all mine.
“And I see you two are already starting a family,” the host says, gesturing towards me. I can see the cameras zoom in, and I know my rounded belly is now on display for millions of people to see. I’m suddenly nervous, my arms wrapping around my stomach in a protective gesture.
Luke’s smile widens. “Yeah, we are,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m going to be a dad. Emily’s six months pregnant with our baby.”
The applause is deafening this time. The audience is on their feet, clapping and cheering. I’m completely overwhelmed, my heart swelling with a love so intense it almost hurts.
“I have to ask,” the host says, once the applause dies down. “How does a guy like you, who’s been single for so long, know it’s right? How did you know Emily was the one you wanted to marry, to have a family with?”
Luke’s gaze finds mine again, and the love I see in his eyes takes my breath away.
“It’s simple, really,” he says, his voice soft but clear.
“When I’m with her, everything else just fades away.
The noise, the chaos, all of it just disappears, and there’s only her.
She’s my calm in the storm. My anchor. She’s the most loving, the most genuine person I’ve ever met.
And I know, without a doubt, that I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy. ”
My vision blurs with tears. I can’t help it. He’s so perfect. So completely, utterly perfect. I’ve never been so happy in my entire life.
The host wipes away a pretend tear, her smile beaming. “Well, Luke, it’s clear you’re a man deeply in love. And we couldn’t be happier for you. For both of you.”
“Thank you,” Luke says, his gaze still on me.
“And that’s all we have time for today,” the host says, turning back to the camera. “Join us next week when we’ll be talking to...”
The rest of her words fade into the distance as I see Luke is already out of his chair, striding towards me, a determined look on his face. He’s moving with a purpose, and my body reacts instantly, a warmth spreading through me, a familiar ache starting to build between my legs.
He reaches me, and without a word, he grabs my hand, his fingers lacing with mine, and starts pulling me through the crowd. People are trying to talk to him, to congratulate him, to get an autograph, but he doesn’t even acknowledge them. He’s a man on a mission.
“Luke,” I say, my cheeks flushing as we weave through the throng of people. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps pulling me, his grip firm, possessive.
We’re moving fast, my short legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.
We burst through a door into a hallway, then down another, until we’re standing in front of a door with a gold star on it. The door to his changing room.
He fumbles with the key, his hands shaking slightly, and I can’t help but smile. He’s just as eager as I am. He finally gets the door open, pulling me inside, and kicking it shut behind us.
The second the door clicks shut, he has me pinned against it, his body hard and muscular against mine. His hands are on my face, his fingers tangling in my hair, and he’s kissing me, a hungry, demanding kiss that steals my breath away.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he growls against my lips, his hands roaming down my body, cupping my breasts through my dress. “Thinking about you. About our baby. About how much I love you.”
He’s kissing me again, and I’m melting against him, my arms wrapping around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair.
I can feel the hard ridge of his erection against my belly, and I ache for him, a deep, throbbing ache that only he can soothe.
He’s always like this. Always dragging me away from crowds so he can have his way with me because he can’t wait another second. And I love it.
“I love the way you look when you’re pregnant,” he murmurs, his lips trailing kisses along my jawline, down my neck. “So round, so full of me. So beautiful.”
His hands are on the straps of my maternity dress now, pushing them down my arms, letting the fabric pool at my feet.
I’m standing in front of him in just my panties, my belly round and heavy, my breasts swollen and full.
He leans back to look at me, his eyes dark with desire, taking in every inch of my body.
“Look at you,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “So fucking beautiful.”
He kneels in front of me, his hands coming to rest on my belly, rubbing gently. Our baby kicks, a strong, determined movement against his palm, and Luke’s breath catches.
“Hey there, little one,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to my belly. “You’re going to be a soccer player, I can tell.”
I giggle, my hands resting on his head, my fingers threading through his hair. “Or maybe a dancer,” I tease.
“Nah, definitely a soccer player,” he says, then looks up at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or maybe a future actor, just like me.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “Let’s hope not,” I tease. “One diva in the family is more than enough.”
He laughs, then leans in, pressing a kiss to my belly again, a little lower this time. “We’ll see,” he murmurs, then his gaze drifts upwards, to my breasts.
They’re heavy, aching, the milk leaking from my nipples, staining the pale skin with a few precious drops.
I’ve been producing more milk than ever since I got pregnant, and my breasts are often engorged and uncomfortable, unless he nurses from me.
And he does. Often. He’s obsessed with it, with the taste, with the intimacy of it, with the knowledge that he’s nourishing himself from me, that he’s taking a part of me into himself.
“I’m thirsty,” he says, his eyes darkening with desire. “And you look so full.”
I can only nod, my breath hitching as he leans in, his tongue darting out to lick the milk from my skin. I gasp, my hands tightening in his hair. He does it again, and again, until he’s cleaned every last drop, his tongue circling my nipple, teasing me, making me whimper with need.
“Please, Luke,” I beg, shifting from one foot to the other as the ache between my thighs grows more intense. “Please...”
He doesn’t need any more encouragement. His lips seal around my nipple, engulfing the sensitive bud in the wet heat of his mouth. He starts to suck, a steady, rhythmic pressure that sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. I moan, my head falling back against the door, my eyes fluttering shut.
I can feel the milk flowing, can feel the relief as the pressure in my breast eases. He groans, the sound vibrating against my skin, and I can feel the vibration all the way down to my thighs. He’s so eager, so hungry, and it’s the most incredible feeling.
He drinks from me for a long while, switching breasts when one is empty, drawing every last drop from me. My body is humming with pleasure, my mind foggy with desire. I’m already so wet, so ready for him, and I can feel the ache building, the need to be filled, to be stretched, to be taken.
Finally, he pulls away, a little bit of milk on his lips. He looks up at me, his blue eyes dark, almost black with desire.
“Delicious,” he murmurs, then stands up, towering over me. He grabs my hips, spinning me around so I’m facing the door. “Bend over, sweetheart.”
I do as he says, placing my hands flat against the cool wood of the door, my back arched, my ass presented to him.
My bump and my breasts hang down heavenly, reminding me of my changed body.
He can see all of me like this, and I love it.
I’m completely exposed, completely vulnerable, and the thrill of it sends a shiver down my spine.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growls, his hands roaming over my ass, squeezing, caressing. “And being able to tell the whole world that you’re carrying my baby - that you’re all mine - it’s made me so fucking hard for you, sweetheart.”
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my panties, pulling them down my legs. I step out of them, spreading my legs wider, offering myself to him.
I can hear the rustle of clothes, the clink of a belt buckle, and then I feel him behind me, the hard heat of his erection pressing against my slick folds. I’m so ready for him, so wet and wanting, that I push back against him, a silent plea for him to take me.
He doesn’t make me wait. With a guttural groan, he slides into me, one smooth, deep thrust that fills me completely, stretching me in the most delicious way.
“Fuck, Emily,” he groans, his hands reaching around to grab my breasts. “You feel so good. So wet and tight for me.”
He starts to move then, and he doesn’t hold back, doesn’t take it slow and easy.
He’s rough, demanding, his movements urgent, needy.
His hips piston, driving into me again and again, each thrust harder, deeper than the last. And I love it.
Love the feeling of him taking me, of him using my body for his pleasure.
My hands are braced against the door, my head hanging down. My breasts are heavy, swaying with each of his powerful thrusts. The sounds of our bodies slapping together, my moans, his grunts, fill the small room to create a lewd symphony.
“You’re all mine, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he growls, his hands squeezing my breasts, his fingers finding my nipples and pinching them, making me cry out.
“Yes,” I gasp, my body already tensing, my orgasm building, coiling in my belly. “All yours, Luke. Always.”
“Good girl,” he says, his hips bucking, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “Because this sweet little pussy was made to take my cock. Made to be filled with my seed. And look at you now, round with my baby, just like you were always meant to be.”
His words send me over the edge. My orgasm rips through me, a violent, shattering wave of pleasure that leaves me breathless, my body shaking, my knees weak.
I cry out, my hands slipping on the door, but he holds me up, his strong arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him, still buried deep inside me.
He follows me over the edge a moment later, his own orgasm ripping through him.
He groans, a deep, guttural sound, and I can feel him pulsing inside me, feel the hot rush of his seed filling me, marking me as his once more.
He keeps thrusting, pumping every last drop into me, until he’s spent, his chest heaving against my back.
He kisses my shoulder, then my neck, his lips soft, gentle. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “More than anything.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, leaning my head back against his chest. “So much.”
He stays inside me for a while longer, just holding me, his hands resting on my belly, our baby kicking against his palm. I feel safe, loved, and cherished.
I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.