Epilogue
Angie
15 months later
“They’re sleeping, Rafael!” I hiss, trying to shove him away from his moms’ hotel room door.
“Come on,” he pouts. “We’ll be quiet. And if they wake up, that’s their problem.”
It only takes me a second to mull it over before I’m smiling. He knocks softly and a few moments later, Christina answers the door, her eyes adjusting to the bright lights of the hallway.
“Can we see them?” he whispers.
“Of course,” she whispers back, opening the door just enough to let us slip inside. The skirts of my wedding dress wrestle against each other and add to the white noise machine already playing.
We’re staying in a beautiful hotel in Guanajuato, Mexico, and it’s late—or early. When we left, most of our family and friends were still there, dancing to the mariachi band that showed up after the DJ packed his things.
The door shuts quietly behind us and we find our babies sleeping soundly in their travel cribs. Well, they’re not exactly babies anymore because no matter how much I refuse to believe it, Zofia and Dominico Jimenez are toddlers now. Toddlers who stole the show at our wedding ceremony only eight hours ago when they ditched the pillow and flower basket they were carrying halfway down the aisle and hugged each other.
My husband pulls me into his warm chest as we stare at our little cherubs, both sucking their thumbs, faces pressed close to the mesh barrier so they can be as close as possible.
“They passed out so fast,” Ana says, as both her and Christina come up to us.
“They had a big day,” I smile.
I ended up being induced a week after we got engaged, and with Ivy by my side and Rafael literally catching the babies, they were born six minutes apart, screaming and perfect.
A week later, his dad flew in to meet his grandchildren. Their relationship is changing slowly. Raf has learned a lot about himself through therapy since then, but altering his relationship with his father isn’t a switch that can be flipped. It’s been a slow process with lots of pain points, but I can see the difference it’s made with him. I still catch him trying to be the best, the most, the hardest worker, but most of the time he can catch it himself before I have to say anything. And if I do, I’m all too happy to remind him that he is already enough and worthy of love no matter what.
I’m really fucking proud of him.
“Okay, off with you two,” Ana whispers, gently pushing us to the door. “Go make me more grand babies.”
We both step out of the room quietly chuckling. “I don’t know, I think I’m confused about the mechanics,” Raf says.
“Yeah, me too,” I say. “Do you have a pamphlet or something?”
She rolls her eyes and starts to shut the door. “You’re both smart. You’ll figure it out.”
Rafael picks me up like the bride I am, and we make our way to the suite at the end of the hall. “This is giving me ideas,” I smirk, waggling my eyebrows as we enter our room.
“Oh yeah? Like what Mrs. Jimenez?”
“Like I’m your virgin bride and this is an arranged marriage.”
“Go on,” he says, setting me on my bare feet and combing his hand through my hair.
I bite my lip before continuing. “But I’ve been falling for you and your charming playboy ways.”
Goosebumps pebble everywhere as he slowly trails his fingertips down my neck, across my chest, and loops them under the thin strap of my dress. “And I’ve been fighting with myself. I don’t want to corrupt you,” he says, sliding both hands down to my hips and pushing his erection into me, “but I have to have you.”
My gaze drops from his lusty eyes, down to his exposed chest where the top three buttons of his crisp white dress shirt are undone.
He looks like pure delectable sin.
And he’s all mine.
“Turn around, Mrs. Jimenez,” he commands. When I do, he moves my hair away from my neck and kisses it, sending a bolt of lightning to my core. Then he gently pulls down my zipper and murmurs, “My beautiful virgin bride. I want to show you how much pleasure a body can have.” He lets my dress fall away to the floor, leaving me in only my white lace panties.
Then I feel him kneel behind me, his large hands skimming my backside as the tip of his nose runs across the thin fabric. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you want me too.”
“Yes,” I sigh, reaching to touch any part of him I can find. “I want you to make love to me.”
“I’m going to do a lot more than make love to you, Angel.”
My panties slip away quickly, and I’m left naked before him with my heart beating wildly.
These games we play have become a part of us. It’s not every time we have sex, but role playing, switching, and BDSM are interwoven in our intimacy. We’re both free to explore any curiosity without judgment.
He’s my slut and I’m proudly his.
Except right now I’m his inexperienced bride who needs to be taught how to take a dick.
It’s so romantic.
His lips press against the curve of my ass and his fingers dig in a little deeper, the gentle restraint starting to dissolve. “Sit on the bed, wife,” he commands. But the way he says wife—like it’s the most erotic thing he can imagine. Like if he said it one more time, he might get off from only that.
I turn and sit—pressing my thighs together in some futile way to relieve the building ache—only to watch him undress in front of me. His sleeves are already rolled up from a long night of dancing, and I fixate on the corded muscles in his forearms flex as he unbuckles himself. Before he drops his pants, he unbuttons the rest of his shirt, and I know he’s watching me like a hawk, but I can’t tear my eyes away from his deft hands.
The shirt is thrown to the floor and he finally removes his slacks and black boxer briefs. My mouth waters when he gives his massive length a few long pulls.
“Look at me, my bride. You’re going to be a good girl and put your husband’s cock in your mouth. You’re going to feel how big and hard it is so that you know exactly how much that tight little virgin pussy needs to stretch for me. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Are you scared?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no need,” he says, lifting my chin with his fingers. “I’m going to take good care of you and talk you through everything. You’re mine now, and I take care of what’s mine.” His thumb grazes my mouth. “Now paint my cock with those pretty lips.”
Jesus Christ, I could explode with lust at this very moment.
The mouth on my husband is next level.
I waste no more time and right as I grab his thick shaft, my tongue finds his crown and I lick the bead of precum from the tip. I have to remember I’m virginal and unsure of myself, so I take a tentative lick instead of trying to deep throat this virile man like my inner horn dog tells me to.
“Like this?” I ask innocently, kissing along the snaking vein.
“Almost, baby. Open your mouth and show me that sweet tongue. That’s it,” he praises, then pushes the uncut head into my mouth and groans. “Now, suck me. Ungh, yes. Good girl. Make it wet. Let it drip everywhere.”
When I start to stroke through the wetness, he braces his hands in my hair, holding it back for a better view. “So pretty, my bride. Doing such a good job for me,” he hums, clearly enjoying my suck and twist combination.
“Okay, okay,” he huffs, pulling himself out of my mouth and leaning low to kiss and taste me. “Very good. But I need you to lay back,” he says, hovering over me as I scoot to the center of the bed.
“I’m going to make you ready for my cock. Have you ever had a man kiss you down here?” he asks, sliding his fingers through my wet, bare slit.
“No,” I whimper. “You’re the first.”
“I’m the only. Got it?”
“Yes,” I repeat.
While he plays gently with my pussy, he laps and bites at my hardened nipples, then takes large mouthfuls and hollows his cheeks as he rolls each peak against his tongue.
“Oh god,” I breathe. “That feels amazing.”
“I’m just getting started, my love,” he smirks, trailing more kisses down my body until he reaches my center. “Now spread your legs and let your husband do all the work.”
“Yes,” I sigh when his tongue runs across my clit and he opens me with his thumbs. He dives in softly at first, building me up with every long swipe and flick. My back arches off the bed as my hands find purchase in the covers. He has me writhing and moaning his name like it’s the only word I know.
Then all at once, while never taking his mouth away, he shoves one finger inside me, and I gasp like the virgin I am. “Oh god! It’s too much,” I feign, throwing an arm over my eyes.
“It’s not,” he growls. “You can take more; I know you can. Open for me, beautiful. I’m going to add a second finger, and it’s going to feel good. You need to be wet and relaxed before I give you my cock. Do you trust me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good,” he rumbles, then starts suckling at my clit again and slowly adding a second finger. “That’s my girl—that’s my wife—riding my hand like she was made to.” His fingers curl inside my body, rubbing my rough patch and sending me to new heights. “There she is. Come for me, Angel. Come on my face,” he mumbles through my pussy. “And then I’ll really make you my wife.”
He fucks me with his hand and eats me out for only a few more moments before I’m clenching around his fingers and chasing the sweet friction of his late-night stubble. I don’t realize I’m holding my breasts like stress balls until he finally releases me and slides his fingers out and licks them clean.
“Are you ready?” he asks tenderly, climbing over me and bracing his arms on either side of my head. His erection lays against my lower stomach and his heavy sac presses against my still-quivering pussy.
“I think so,” I pant.
“Now’s the best time.”
“Will it hurt?” I ask, touching his neck and sliding my hand over his jaw.
“It might for a moment,” he whispers, then leans down for a languid kiss. “But I promise to go slow, and the pain is worth it.”
“Thank you,” I murmur into his warm lips. “I love you, Mr. Jimenez.”
Rafael pulls his right hand down to guide his massive cock to my entrance. “And I love you,” his voice rumbles back through our kiss, then he nudges the tip inside me. “Mrs. Jimenez.”
And true to his word, he goes slow—tortuously slow. Like he’s really fucking a virgin. Pretending he can’t make it all the way in when he hits my imaginary hymen. And I pretend there’s real pain when he thrusts through it and I hold tight to his strong back, clinging to him like he’ll heal me.
“There we are,” he says in awe, finally letting himself have free reign inside me. He adds his finger to my sensitive bundle of nerves, and commands me again. “Wrap your beautiful legs around me. Hold on tight.”
There’s not another thought in my brain as I listen obediently, and he pounds into me while rubbing my clit between our seeking bodies.
“Yes,” I cry out, digging my nails into his muscles as my entire lower body contracts around him like a boa constrictor. “Rafael!”
He loses his composure entirely and drops his head into my neck. “Angel,” he grunts. “You’re my…Angel.” With his last thrust, he finally removes his hand from between my thighs, and slowly adds all his weight on top of me as I relax my legs, but keep my ankles locked behind him.
Both of my hands slide down the sweat beading on his back and I gently massage whatever muscles I can touch. “I love you, husband.”
“I love you, wife.”
We lay there, inhaling our pheromones and letting our bodies come down leisurely.
When Rafael finally sits up, he looks down at me with a smile tugs his lower lip between his teeth. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“I know,” I say with a cocksure voice, making him lose it and curl over in a laugh.
“And it’s because of that attitude,” he says while reaching over to the nightstand and opening the drawer to pull out a small black box. “That made me think you needed something a little more substantial.” When he’s centered back in front of me, he opens the box and pulls out a huge fucking ring.
My eyes bug out and I sit up fast. “What the fuck?”
“I know we both love your mother’s ring, and it means more than this one, but I wanted you to have something that is just ours too. Something as bold as you.”
“Is that a canary diamond?” I ask, snatching the cushion-cut from him.
“Yup.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I huff, slipping it on my other ring finger and then pulling him into a long kiss. “I love it. Thank you, baby.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I, uhh,” I stammer, suddenly feeling nervous and for my gift to him. “I got you something too.”
“You did?”
“Here, sit down.” I climb off the bed and pull out a larger box than what he gave me from one of my bags. I hand him the small package I wrapped myself and he opens it quickly.
Right away, he finds his name engraved in the leather cover and touches it softly. “You got me a journal?”
“Well,” I say nervously. “You know how we started making our own journals for the twins once we found out about my mom’s?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, read the first page.”
He flips it open to find my handwriting and today’s date. “Hello, sweet baby,” he reads aloud with a pinch between his eyebrows. “I married your mother today and she just handed me this journal to tell me she’s…” He pauses to let his mouth tremble and his eyes well up with tears. “To tell me she’s pregnant with you.”
He immediately closes the journal and lets it fall away so we can hold each other tight. “Are you serious?” he cries into my hair and now I’m tearing, too. “You’re really pregnant again?”
“Yes,” I cry happily. “I’m five weeks along.”
“Oh my god, that’s so much more time to prepare,” he chuckles through the tears and then releases me just enough to stare at me with wide eyes. “We’re having another baby.”
“Who knows,” I shrug. “Maybe more than one.” When that thought lands, he sobers up. “Starting a commune isn’t looking too bad now, is it?”
THE END