Epilogue
Jonah
Ten Months Later
The sound of the shower turning on from the ensuite wakes me. The house is still dark, but there’s a hint of daylight starting to break its way through the curtains.
How’d she manage to get out of bed without waking me?
My morning wood begs for attention, so after a good stretch and a kiss to King’s fuzzy muzzle, I pad over to the bathroom and watch that beautiful woman—hair long and untamed from sleep—strip out of her pajamas.
Eyelids closed, she putters around the familiar room, unaware of me.
My heart dances knowing she’s this comfortable.
This is now her home, after all. Renée, Delta, and Lo moved in six months ago, and my only complaint is wishing they would have sooner.
But Renée wanted to be sure, and I wanted her to be sure.
I also wanted her to have the largest safety net possible.
That’s why I bought her rental house, renovated everything, and put her name on the deed.
Amber lives there still, though she’s over here more often than not.
I keep telling her she should just move in with us, but she likes having her own space.
It’s also nice when the girls spend the night at their aunt’s so Renée and I can be as loud as we want.
But there’s moments like this—admiring the sexy redhead stepping into a warm shower—and knowing the plans I have for her will require us to be quiet.
I toss my sleep shorts in the hamper. Wearing nothing more than a lazy smirk and the silver day collar she gave me, I step in behind her.
“May I join you?”
She pouts. “But I smeared all that cum on your stomach last night. You’re just gonna wash it off?” she teases.
I lather body wash onto a loofah and chuckle. “You know how weird the goats get when they smell cum. I don’t need them eating my shirt during the photoshoot today.”
We’re having a professional photographer come to the house for family Christmas pictures—and I mean everyone in the family is coming over.
Ever since Renée and I have made it official, I’ve been obsessed with having pictures.
Every season we have a little photoshoot, and I’m perpetually taking pictures of my ladies.
I’m just so proud of them. And I’m proud of me. This whole family man thing is frickin’ sweet—like, I get why Rafael loves it. Seeing joy on the faces of my little Ladybug and Shortcake... it makes all the hard stuff worth it.
Renée hums a laugh and angles her head to kiss me.
Lips locked in a lazy adoration, I begin to soap up her curves.
Slippery, sweeping strokes up and down until every inch has been polished.
I lather her hair in coconut shampoo, and it makes me smile because she has no idea I’m taking them to Tulum over Christmas break.
I kiss her neck while rinsing her hair, and apply a liberal amount of conditioner and let it soak in. When she thinks she’s finished, I push her against the tile wall dick-first.
“Don’t you want me to wash you?” she asks breathlessly.
“Not yet,” I murmur, then bite her earlobe. “I’m gonna get a little dirtier first.”
“Oh,” she gasps when I slide my fingers through her sex. She’s already canting her hips and standing on her toes in offering.
“Such a needy thing,” I growl.
“Mhmm.”
Me initiating and being in control was not something Renée wanted until recently.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t complaining, but it is so very delightful when I am.
Being in control of her body like this is a massive turn on.
But knowing what it has taken for her to relinquish control—to trust me like this—it’s something money can’t buy.
I am so proud of her.
I dip two fingers deep inside her channel and collect that warm, delicious heat. “Baby, look how wet you are. I bet anything you’re still carrying my cum inside you from last night. Such a little slut, aren’t you?”
She shudders. “Yes.”
“It would be so easy,” I drawl, notching the head of my hard-on against her opening. “So easy for me to slip right in and claim you again.”
Technically she claimed me last night. Shoved a plug in my ass, rode me like a cowgirl, bred me within an inch of my life, and rubbed her semen-filled pussy against my stomach when she was done.
But y’know... new day, new scene.
She moans and holds tight to my shoulders, but one hand slides to my necklace—my day collar engraved with her name—and she fists it. “Please fuck me.”
I lift her leg to place one foot on the shower bench.
“I woke up so hard for you,” I say, my voice dangerously low.
I push the wide tip inside her. “I watched you undress in here, and I needed this perfect pussy immediately.” I inch further inside and lift her breasts, pressing them against my body.
“I wanted these tits soapy and slippery.”
She mewls. “You feel so good, baby.”
I pump into her, deep and slow, adding an extra hit of pressure each time I bottom out.
Renée’s doing her best to stay quiet, but her face speaks volumes.
Jaw slack and eyes hooded, she matches my rhythm until we’re a frenzy of hips and lips.
I grab her delicious fat ass, forcing her to take an impossible amount more.
I get lost in the sensation of her hot cunt and the way her entire body jiggles when I slam into her—so, so soft.
I cannot get enough of this woman.
Her grip on my collar tightens and we’re panting in each other’s mouths, inhaling and muffling the sounds the other cannot.
I add a thumb to her clit and slam my groin against it. Between each thrust, I rub fast and within minutes, her head falls to my chest and she’s coming around my dick.
“Yeeessss,” I purr. “Oh, that’s it. Come all over me. Come all over your man’s cock. Yes yes, show me how long you can hold it.” One of the many things I love about her is how long she can sustain an orgasm. It’s truly incredible.
“Please don’t stop,” she silently cries.
Couldn’t if I wanted to.
For several more minutes her pussy contracts until her body starts to sag. About to bust myself, I grab her thighs and she sucks in a sharp breath when I lift her off the ground and press all my weight into her.
“Oh my God!” she gasps.
“Oh my God,” I groan, giving everything I have. Then I maneuver her again—throwing her legs over my shoulders so she’s completely pinned and bent in half against the shower wall.
“Jesus Christ, you’re strong.”
Her praise creates a small curl on my lips, but it fades just as fast because the coil of pleasure in my pelvis breaks free. I grunt and groan, spilling every drop inside her until I’m drained.
We share our labored breathing and kiss until my muscles demand I release her so they can relax. I collapse on the bench and she stands in front of me—holding my head against her chest.
Mmmm. Boobs.
As soon as I’m clean, I leave Renée to finish getting ready, and I go downstairs. I brew a pot of coffee, and then King and I head to the barn for our morning chores.
Because of Renée’s idea for an animal therapy center, I invested completely in it, right here on our property.
Our charity, The Barn Wilde, opened in June, right after the spring rugby season ended.
I was worried about how I was going to handle playing premiership rugby while managing a charity, but I’ve found a rhythm, and sticking to a routine has helped me stay on top of things.
I still fall short sometimes, but Renée’s right there to remind me that I don’t have to carry everything all the time.
I can ask for help, and that’s not a weakness.
Dane has become our charity’s head veterinarian, and Angie helped me find the right therapists to hire. She introduced me to the world of animal therapy, and the more I learned, the more I knew it was the right fit for me.
The barn has changed a bit in the last year. I renovated it with new stalls and a fresh coat of paint. I even had a little cottage built for the charity so the therapists and patients could work inside.
In the last couple of months though, The Barn Wilde has turned into more.
Our doctors discovered our musical talents, so we’ve added in music therapy.
Teaching and performing for kids and adults in this sort of setting wasn’t something I ever saw for myself when I was playing in my basement band and bars in college, but I’ve never been happier.
I get to play music and semi-professional rugby for a living—like, how is this my life?
! I also get to work alongside my talented girlfriend.
Talk about rich.
Of course, Renée still holds her position at the university, but she’s working part-time starting next semester, and she can still keep her tenure.
I’ll do whatever it takes to reinforce her safety net. I’ll also do whatever it takes to ensure she never needs one.
“Good morning, everybody,” I sing, swinging the barn door open. The dogs roll out of their hay beds and stretch. “Such good boys,” I say affectionately. “Looks like everyone’s here and accounted for.” I salute them. “Job well done, gentlemen.”
Ginger huffs and snorts her indignation about the alpaca who pesters her every second of the day. I give Timothy some fresh hay and a hearty pet. “Buddy, you gotta trust me on this—it’s never gonna happen with Ginger if you don’t listen to her.”
I feed everyone and sweet-talk them about the family photoshoot, reminding them they need to look their best today. “I’m looking at you, Rugger! I swear to God if you roll in poop again—”
“Hi Dad,” a little voice coos, and my heart lurches. I turn to find Lo and Delta standing in the open barn doorway, cute as buttons and sporting muck boots with pajamas.
“Which one of you just called me Dad?” I breathe.
Lo raises her hand.
Delta runs up and wraps her arms around me. “Mom said it was okay when we were ready.”
I knew that. Renée and I have talked about it at length and agreed if they wanted to, they could. But... but I didn’t think it would be so soon. Tears form, and I can’t stop them from falling when I blink.
Lo runs over to me, and I sit on the dirty barn floor clutching my girls—my daughters—so tight they think I’m playing. With every giggle and squirm, my lungs constrict and my heart expands to the size of the universe.
I sniffle. “I love you girls so much.”
Pure and sweet enough to give anyone diabetes, Delta kisses me on the cheek. “We love you too, Dad.”
I’m still crying when we finish our chores and walk back into the house. Renée’s made breakfast, but I grab her hand in a drive-by and haul her into the closest room with a door, and hold her.
“They called me Dad,” I cry into her shoulder.
She smooths gentle hands up and down my back while it shakes uncontrollably. “Oh, baby... That’s wonderful. I’m so happy.”
“Me too,” I try to say, but choke on my own tears. “I’ve never been this happy before.” I sniffle. “No offense.”
She laughs quietly, but she’s crying too. “None taken. I know what you mean. Welcome to being a parent, Jonah.”
THE END1
1. Put Your Money on Me by The Struts