Epilogue
Bray
Six months later
I’M speechless when Reilly comes out of the bathroom in a white lace corset, white lace thong and thigh-high stockings.
She’s fucking perfection standing there, leaning against the door frame while waiting for me to say something, to give her instruction.
I’m not finished admiring the view of my wife though, so she can wait a little longer.
My wife, that goddess right there is my fucking wife. I want to run up to the top of this Vegas high-rise and scream it out for all to hear. I, Bray Williamson, put a ring on it and locked it down.
It’s been a tough six months. My recovery seems to have taken its time.
Although the doctors say I made great progress and recovered quicker than anyone they’ve seen, I feel like it’s taken longer than necessary.
The hardest part of this mess is not being able to fight.
I tried to get everyone on board with me entering the ring again.
I had coach at the house every other day going through routines and training.
Every doctor has advised against it, but they’re doctors; they’re meant to advise against shit like that.
The thing that made me wake up, made me realise that there is much more to life than fighting, was Reilly.
The look of utter shock and horror that would cross her face whenever I mentioned going back in the cage.
She was never all for me fighting before, but she never looked like I killed her cat while discussing it before either.
When I asked her about why she looked so terrified her reply was, “I spent two months sitting by your bedside waiting for you to wake up. I spent two months praying to a god I wasn’t even sure existed anymore.
I spent two months thinking I had lost the best thing to ever happen to me.
I don’t ever want to experience that kind of pain again.
I won’t stop you. I won’t ask you not to fight, that has to be completely your own decision.
Whatever you decide, I’ll still be your biggest cheerleader. ”
I was just as speechless then as I am now.
After replaying her words through my head for two weeks, I decided not to go back in the cage.
I thought I’d feel a loss at the thought of never fighting again.
What I felt was a weight lifted. I still get antsy, my body itching with energy that needs to be moving at times.
When this happens, I either seek out Reilly to expel energy together, or I hit the gym and give myself a gruelling workout.
In the last six months, I’ve managed to regain all the muscle loss that happened after the shooting.
It’s been a long slow process, but I finally feel like my old self.
It was fucking torture those first few months, not being able to get up and walk, do normal mundane everyday things like button up my own fucking clothes.
If it wasn’t for Reilly and Zac constantly being by my side throughout the recovery, I probably would have gone mad or given up completely.
“Ahh, Bray, are you just going to sit there staring all night?” Reilly’s voice snaps me out of my own head.
“Well, when the views this good, why the hell not?” I question her.
“For one, it’s our wedding night, and you only get one shot at making a memorable wedding night. Two, these shoes, as hot as they look, really are not comfortable and I can’t stand here all night.” She stomps one of those ridiculously high stilettos on the floor.
I don’t make an effort to move. I stay seated on the edge of the bed. I started stripping my clothes off while Reilly was in the bathroom. I got down to just my trousers when she opened the door and I had to sit my ass down before I fell at her feet. She took the breath right out of me.
“Your feet hurt, babe?” I ask, watching as she nods her head.
“What kind of husband would I be if I let my wife get sore feet on our first night of being married? Not a very good one, and I plan to be the best husband who ever existed. Not sure if you noticed, but I’m fucking great husband material.
It’s like you won the lottery of husbands when you said I do tonight. ”
Reilly laughs. “I want to disagree and bust that ego of yours a little, but we don’t lie to each other, so I won’t disagree. I did win the lottery of husbands.”
As I take her in, I recall the moment she said I do, earlier tonight in a Vegas chapel.
We did end up running off to Vegas to get married.
We did however let our family tag along.
We also switched things up. I wasn’t as stupid as Zac.
I knew Reilly didn’t have her dad to walk her down the aisle.
When I questioned her about what she wanted to do, because I was not about to let her walk down that aisle alone, she got teary and told me that nobody could replace her dad’s spot.
She then decided that we would walk down together, that it was our wedding and we could make the rules.
The idea of walking down the aisle together as equals, as partners, was fucking brilliant.
My girl is a fucking genius. So that’s what we did—we met at the end of the aisle and walked down hand in hand.
After I spent a good five minutes trying to convince her to sneak off to a closet with me first.
She told me to wait, some crap about delayed gratification. So now I’m going to make her wait. First, I need to deal with her aching feet, because there is no way she’s removing those shoes until after they’ve spent hours digging into my back.
“Kneel,” I tell her, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Right where you are now, kneel.”
Reilly glares at me; this is not what she wanted. Too bad she’s not the one running this show. After a minute of glaring, she relents. Following my instruction, she kneels, sitting back on her heels. I don’t miss the slight shiver that runs through her body as she does this.
“Put your hands on your knees.”
I wait for her to follow the instruction. Silently, she places her hands on her knees, palms down.
“Pull your legs apart, as far as they go. I want to see that pretty pussy I own.”
Reilly licks her lips as she slowly spreads her legs apart.
She’s so responsive to being ordered around in the bedroom.
Try to tell her to do something outside of the bedroom and I get a completely different reaction.
Her tiny thong does nothing to cover her.
It’s basically see- through with how wet it is.
Inhaling, I can smell her arousal from here.
I can see her pussy dripping for me; it’s like a beacon, a siren calling for me to pet it.
And pet it, I plan to. Tilting my head to the side, I look her over.
I still can’t believe that she’s mine. I need to keep this scene locked away in my memories.
I don’t ever want to forget this moment.
“I hope you weren’t counting on a night of slow passionate love making, babe, because I plan to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
“Delayed gratification, babe. Good things come to those who wait.” I replay her own words back to her.
Reilly growls at me. “Bray, do not make me wait, please.”
Fuck, she uses that please like a fucking weapon.
She knows I can never deny her anything when she uses that please.
Getting up off the bed, I walk over to her slowly, and a small smirk crosses her face.
She thinks she’s won. Little does she know, I’m planning on toying with her as long as I possibly can. I don’t ever want this night to end.
Grabbing her with my hand around her throat, I tip her head back.
Bringing my face down to hers, I gently brush my lips along hers as I make my way to her ear.
While trailing the fingers of my other hand along the top of her breast, I whisper, “I hope you’re comfortable, babe.
I’m not planning to rush through my dessert tonight.
I’m going to take my time, relish in the sweetness that I know is waiting for me.
I’m going to lap up the weeping juices like it’s my last meal and savour it. ”
Reilly moans; she goes to close her legs. I know she’s dying to get some friction to her core. Squeezing tighter on her neck, I growl at her, “Don’t you dare close those fucking legs, Reilly.”
With a grunt, she spreads them back open.
With my hand still around her throat, I hold her still as my lips attack her neck before making their way down to the tops of her breasts.
This corset is in my fucking way. I can’t get to those delicious pink nipples I want so bad.
I stand and make my way over to the dining table and pick up a steak knife.
Reilly doesn’t even flinch when I bring the knife back, running the tip of it along the skin of her neck and breast. She really fucking trusts me a lot.
Pulling the fabric of the corset away from her skin, so I don’t fucking cut her, I slice right down the middle—her breasts bouncing as they’re freed from their confines.
I don’t waste time getting my mouth and hands on those pink nipples, positioning myself between her legs to prevent her from being able to close them.
I take my time sucking and biting on each nipple.
Reilly is a writhing mess by the time I come up for air.
Her moans fill the room, as she attempts to push me away one minute, only to pull me closer the next, with the hold she has on my head while pulling at my hair.
I kiss my way down her stomach, before twisting and laying my head on the ground between her spread legs.
Reaching up, I grab her hips and lift her, positioning her just where I want her, with her pussy right above my face.
Ripping the tiny piece of lace that attempts to cover her, I slowly glide my tongue along her slit, from top to bottom.