Epilogue #2
She falls forward the moment my tongue connects with her clit, her hands landing on the tops of my thighs. It doesn’t take her long before those same hands are travelling up and undoing my pants and releasing junior.
As she slowly strokes her hand up and down my cock, I continue my slow attack on her pussy.
The moment her tongue licks the slit in my tip, twirling around my piercing, I almost lose control.
Fuck that feels good. I’m not about to lose out in the first round.
Sliding my tongue right up to her puckered hole, I lick and twirl around it.
This is a move I know drives her insane.
She starts bucking against my face, attempting to grind down on me, and I have to hold her hips to keep her still.
No doubt, she will be left with my fingerprints all over those hips tomorrow.
I slowly slide two fingers in and out of her pussy while licking around her back hole.
She’s so fucking close that she’s all but forgotten about junior while her attempts to stay focused on her task are weak.
I fucking love seeing her fall apart and to be the one, the only one, making her see the fucking stars.
Picking up the speed, I thrust my fingers in harder and harder, while flattening my tongue out on her hole. She grinds down on me, screaming my name as she comes undone before falling flat on top of me. After a few minutes, Reilly slides off me and onto the floor.
Deciding I’ve given her enough recovery time, I stand, pick her up, and throw her down on the bed.
She squeals as she lands in the middle of the bed.
I strip out of my pants before crawling up her body.
She looks so fucking perfect, her red hair sprawled out above her like a halo.
Her pale skin is glistening with goosebumps.
As I look down at her, I send a little prayer up, thanking God that this woman is mine.
“I fucking love you so damn much, Reilly Williamson.” I look into her eyes and I can see the pure love she has for me too.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know, Bray.
More than words can describe.” She reaches up, wrapping her hands above my neck and pulling my lips down to connect with hers.
I know I wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t walk tomorrow.
Plans change though, right now all I want to do is love her the way she deserves to be loved.
That’s how we spend the rest of our first night of being husband and wife, making sweet, tender love, over and over again. Our bodies and souls fused together as one, and I wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.
Reilly
Two years later
“Aunty Rye Rye!” Ashton, the little chubby two and a half year old runs up to me, arms stretched high. Just as I’m about to attempt to bend down to him, Bray swoops in, lifting him up in his arms.
“Ash, my man. You know Aunty Rye Rye can’t pick you up,” he says while ruffling Ashton’s hair.
“Babies,” Ashton says, pointing at my obvious, expanding stomach that is now the size of a house. I guess in a way it is a home.
“Yeah, mate, Aunty Rye Rye has uncle Bray’s babies in there,” Bray confirms. I roll my eyes at him.
He loves to drop that line as often as he can. He knocked me up, not once, but twice in the one go. Yep, I’m pregnant with twins, and he’s taking all the credit for them being twins. Never mind the fact that I am a twin, and that the genetics for twins comes from me, not him.
“Yes, Ash, it is all Uncle Bray’s fault that I have babies in my tummy making it so big,” I tell him, kissing his cheek.
“Big babies,” Ash says, rubbing my belly while I glare at Bray.
“See, even our two-year-old nephew agrees that I’m fat.” I’m so grumpy; pregnancy has not been my friend and I still have three months to go.
“Babe, you are not fat. You are fucking gorgeous, glowing even,” Bray says as he leans in and kisses me on my forehead. That’s his move to calm me, and it works every damn time.
“Ash, mate, clearly your dad has not taught you very well yet. You don’t tell the girls they have big tummies; you can tell them they have big boo—” He’s cut off by Alyssa’s scream.
“Do not think about finishing that sentence, Braydon. I will knock you down. I’ve done it once. I can do it again,” she yells across the room.
Zac walks up and plucks Ash from Bray’s arms, then slaps him across the back of the head. “You fucking idiot, do not teach my son your man-whoring ways.”
Bray stumbles back, hand over heart. “Ahh, bro, that hurts. Besides, who do you think I learnt it from, huh? I’ll tell you, I learnt it from watching—”
Bray’s sentence dies off with the icy glare that Zac throws his way. I swear even after three years, that guy can still scare me with that glare.
“Watching Jersey Shore,” Bray finishes, saving himself from another slap to the head.
“You know those two babies you impregnated your wife with?” Zac asks.
“Yep, know them well,” Bray answers with a huge smile across his face.
Zac smirks, nods his head towards my belly and says, “They’re both girls, bro. Those babies are girls, and with any luck, they’re going to look like their mother.”
The smile from Bray’s face completely vanishes. He goes a bit pale before he recovers. “Shut up, they are going to be nuns. Reilly, we’re joining a fucking church tomorrow.”
Alyssa, Sarah, Holly and I all burst into laughter standing in the middle of my kitchen. I stop laughing just as quickly as I start. “Sorry, gotta pee,” I say, dashing out of the room. Over my shoulder I yell, “But thanks for calling me hot, Zac!”
“Not what I said,” he calls back.
I finish in the bathroom, walk back out and see everyone has made their way out to the deck—Zac, Bray and Dean all surrounding the BBQ while the girls sit on the lounge sipping glasses of wine. Man, I miss wine.
I stop and admire the scene. Little Ashton is playing out on the grass.
Bray had a play gym installed for him the day after he was born, claiming that it was part of his best uncle duties.
It’s taken two years, but Ashton is just now big enough to play on it, under the ever-watchful eye of Zac—his eyes constantly wandering between Ashton and Alyssa.
I can’t believe that this is my family now.
The ringing doorbell pulls me away from the scene. I pull it open to my mum, holding a tray of baked goods. Rolling my eyes at her, I open the door to let her in. It’s become her and Bray’s thing; whenever she visits, she brings him baked goods, and no one else is ever allowed to eat them.
“Hey, mum.” I kiss her cheek.
“How’re you feeling, sweetie? How are my grandbabies in there? Is your mummy looking after you?” she talks to my stomach.
“Your grandbabies want one of those chocolate brownies,” I say, reaching for the tray, only to have her pull it away.
“Don’t even think about it, Reilly. You know these are for Bray.”
I give up, nothing works on her. If it was my dad, I’d be able to wrangle those brownies. But not mum, she doesn’t fall for any of my tricks.
“Everyone’s out back,” I say, walking her through the house.
I used to think of this house as overly huge with a lot of wasted space, but now that the twins are coming, I’m thankful that we have so much room.
Bray said when he bought it, he wanted to fill it with a football team of children; it just took him a while to find his co-coach.
He’s dreaming if he thinks I’m letting myself get knocked up again. As much as I’m looking forward to these little girls coming into the world, pregnancy is not for the faint-hearted. I blame Alyssa; she made it look easy.
As soon as my mother is out on the deck, Bray has her engulfed in a hug. “Lynne, I’m so glad you’re here. Maybe you can help me convince your daughter that we should join a church.”
I glare at Bray. Holly throws something—I think it’s a piece of bread. It hits his head but bounces right off.
“We are not joining a church, Bray,” I say, falling into a seat next to Holly.
“Well, I think it’s a lovely idea,” my mother says—of course she does. Bray just asked an Irish Catholic mother if we should go to church.