Epilogue
I tug at the bowtie wrapped around my neck, wishing it were time to replace the noose with a crewneck.
While I hate these fucking events, I have learned to navigate them over the past two years.
I stand beside my wife, my hand resting on the small of her back and my expression carefully neutral while producers, directors, and studio executives fawn over her.
But I’ll never belong here. Not really. Regardless of my facade, I’m always the man who’d rather be anywhere else, but stays because she asks me to.
Devyn moves through it all with ease, spending the night mingling with society’s elite.
She has an innate ability to make everyone feel like they’re the only person in the room.
She’s fucking amazing. I’m halfway through a conversation with a producer whose name I’ve already forgotten when I notice her across the ballroom.
Two years of marriage, and somehow, she still manages to steal my attention without even trying.
She stands near the silent auction displays, one hand lightly resting on the edge of a glass pedestal while she speaks with an older couple I vaguely recognize from an event a few months back.
The emerald dress she chose tonight catches the chandelier light in shifting waves of color, the silk fabric draping over her body like liquid, accentuating every curve I’ve spent countless hours memorizing.
The neckline plunges in a way that makes my pulse throb a little faster, the back disappears almost low enough to be obscene, and the slit up her left thigh reveals enough leg to make every man in the room stare.
She laughs, the sweet sound carrying faintly across the room, and I feel it in my gut physically.
“Gunnar?”
I blink and turn toward the man in front of me, blurting automatically, “Sorry.”
The producer smiles knowingly and tips his head toward Devyn. “Your wife?”
“Yes.” I glance toward her again, unable to help myself and unable to pretend my attention is anywhere else.
“She’s stunning.”
The word doesn’t remotely do her justice. “That she is.”
“Half the room has been staring at her all night.” It doesn’t surprise me. Between her beauty and her status in Hollywood, Devyn always draws attention. “You did well for yourself.”
I smile politely, already half distracted. Just tell them you have a huge cock. I hold back a chuckle as Devyn’s teasing explanation for how I pulled a woman as amazing as her flits through my thoughts before excusing myself to get another—much-needed—drink.
More people drift over to greet me as the evening progresses.
A television actress with impossibly smooth skin who thanks me for Aegis’s discretion during a stalker situation last year.
After shoving a drink into my hand, a retired athlete claps me on the shoulder and tells his friend I’m “the best damn security in the business.” Two actresses—who have had a questionable amount of work done—ask whether I’m accepting new clients before discreetly sliding their business cards into my hand, their eyes lingering on parts of me that have nothing to do with security and everything to do with the rumors that have circulated since our relationship went public.
The night is filled with the usual dance—polite conversation, professional admiration, and carefully veiled requests for future appointments.
But through it all, my attention drifts across the room to Devyn, who is moving gracefully from one conversation to the next.
It’s a skill I’ve always admired, one I could never replicate myself. I’m too blunt and impatient.
She glances in my direction, and when our eyes meet for a brief second, the noise of the room fades away.
Devyn lifts her champagne glass in a silent toast, and the corner of my mouth curves in response.
The moment passes quickly when someone else clamors for her attention, but the gesture stays with me, reminding me that, no matter how many people surround her, at the end of the night, she’s mine.
By the time the charity presentation ends, and the crowd begins thinning toward the bar and terrace, I finally go in search of my wife.
I find her standing near the balcony doors, looking out over the city lights.
The breeze from outside lifts a few strands of her hair, and the emerald silk clings to her curves in a way that makes my hands itch to touch her.
“Hiding?” I tease, stepping behind her, close enough to smell her perfume.
She glances over her shoulder, her eyes bright with mischief. “Temporarily.”
“I thought you enjoyed these events.”
“I do,” she insists, turning back toward the view. “In small doses.”
I stand beside her, my hand finding the small of her back and dusting over the bare skin.
Devyn takes a sip of her champagne before asking, “How many people inquired about security tonight?”
“Five.”
“Only five?”
“It’s still early.”
She smiles faintly. “You’re popular.”
I brush my knuckles down her spine toward the small of her back, feeling her shiver at my touch. “And in this dress, so are you. Every man in here is looking at you.”
“Please,” she scoffs. “They’re trying to figure out how they can use me to make millions.”
“I’m not.” I lean down and place a soft kiss on her bare shoulder, tasting the warmth of her skin. “I’m looking at my wife. My baby girl. The woman who spent last night with her legs wrapped around my head while I made her come three times before dinner.”
“Gunnar,” she gasps softly, turning to check whether anyone heard as she playfully slaps my chest.
We stand quietly for a moment, the breeze carrying the faint music and laughter from the ballroom behind us.
My hand rests possessively on her hip, my thumb tracing circles on her bare skin.
Her hand brushes lightly against mine. It’s a small touch, but its warmth spreads through me immediately, reigniting the fire that’s been smoldering since I first saw her in that dress. “I’m glad we came.”
“So am I,” she replies, turning to face me, the soft glow of the terrace lights catching in her eyes, making them almost golden. “Though I know you’d rather be home.”
“Home has its appeals,” I admit, my voice dropping lower. “Especially when home involves you naked and begging.”
Her hands slide up my chest, her fingers curling into the lapels of my tuxedo. Her smile deepens slightly, and her eyes sparkle with mischief that always goes straight to my cock. She rasps, “I’m pretty sure I can accommodate that request.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not a request.” I lean closer, slipping my fingers under her chin and tilting her face up slightly before pressing my lips to hers.
The kiss is soft and tender, meant to be a promise of more, but when we pull apart, I can read her unspoken thoughts in her gaze.
She’s dying to be alone with me as much as I am with her.
Devyn’s fingers curl lightly into the lapels of my jacket, and she glances briefly toward the ballroom behind us before leaning closer again.
Her voice lowering just enough that only I can hear, she whispers, “I think I’m done feeling charitable.
” Her smile turns playful and teasing. It’s the smile of a woman who knows exactly what she does to me. “Maybe we should go home.”
I raise an eyebrow, my hand tightening on her hip and pulling her flush against me so she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me.
“What if I can’t wait to take you home?” The words leave my throat in a gravelly whisper, and they cause her eyes to darken with lust. I don’t need her to answer.
Her chest rapidly rises and falls, my good girl always eager to give me exactly what I need.
Lacing my fingers with hers, I pull her from the balcony and through the prying eyes of the ballroom.
I push through a doorway at the rear of the room, dragging her into a dimly lit hallway.
The plush carpet muffles our footsteps as I lead her into the hotel, away from the crowds and the noise, my grip on her hand tight and possessive.
She laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a jolt straight through me. “Daddy, what are you doing?”
“Something I should’ve done the moment I saw you in that dress,” I growl, pulling her into an alcove tucked into a secluded corner just far enough from the main corridor.
“Something I’m going to do until you can’t remember your own name.
” I spin her around and press her against the wall face-first. Her breath hitches, her palms flattening against the cool surface as I step in close until my body is flush against hers.
“Gunnar,” she gasps as I grind my cock against her ass.
My hands glide down her sides, tracing the curve of her hips before I grip the hem of her gown and slowly inch it up her thighs.
The silk whispers against her skin, and the heat radiates from her even through the fabric.
“Keep your hands on the wall,” I command. “Don’t move them unless I tell you to.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she breathes, and the words make my cock ache against my zipper.
When I drop to my knees behind her, I find her sheer panties already damp, her arousal proof that she needs this as much as I do.
I waste no time, sliding them to the side and exposing her to me, the sight of her glistening and ready makes my mouth water.
Sliding my fingers through her folds, I part her lips as I lean in, dragging my tongue over her slick flesh.
She moans, her back arching as I taste her, unhurried and teasing at first, then more demanding. I alternate between her pussy and the tight ring of her ass, my tongue circling, probing, driving her wild. Her hips rock against my mouth, her breath ragged pants as I push her closer to the edge.
“Daddy,” she whimpers, her fingers scraping the wall for purchase. “Please…”
I smile against her as my tongue delves deeper, fucking into her with slow, deliberate strokes.
Adding my fingers, I stroke and tease until she’s trembling and her body is taut with need.
I draw her clit into my mouth, sucking it hard, and she shatters.
Her orgasm rips through her with a force that makes her cry out, her clit pulsing against my tongue as I continue to lap at her, prolonging her pleasure until she’s sobbing my name.
Before she can recover, I rise to my feet.
I spin her around to face me as I fumble with my pants.
Her eyes are glazed, her lips are parted, and her chest is heaving as she struggles to catch her breath.
I free myself, my cock lies heavy and throbbing in my hand as I hook her thigh over my hip.
Pressing against her, I find her panties in the way.
With a growl of impatience, I tear at the delicate lace, the fabric giving way easily and granting me unfettered access to what I need.
She gasps as the tattered fabric falls to the floor, and I drive into her with one hard thrust. She cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders, and her head falling back against the wall.
I cover her mouth with my hand, silencing her screams as I set a relentless pace, my hips snapping against hers.
Each thrust is deeper and harder than the last. Her tight pussy is welcoming, unbelievably slick with arousal, gripping firmly as I demandingly push her toward another orgasm.
“Quiet,” I growl against her ear, my hand still over her mouth. “You don’t want them to hear, do you? You don’t want them to know that Daddy’s fucking you in the hallway like a dirty little slut who can’t wait to get home?”
She moans against my palm, the sound vibrating against my skin. Her eyes rolling back as I repeatedly drive my cock into that spot inside her that causes her to come undone. Her muffled whimpers blow hot against my palm, spurring me on. My control frays as I chase my own release.
“That’s it,” I grunt, my hips pistoning. The sound of our bodies meeting is wet and obscene in the quiet hallway. “Come for Daddy. Let me feel you. Show me how much you love me inside you. Show me who owns you.”
She claws at my jacket-clad shoulders when I push her over the brink, her body convulsing, walls pulsing around me in rhythmic waves that milk my own orgasm from me. I bury myself deep inside her, my release tearing through me with a guttural moan as I spill into her, filling her with my cum.
After slipping my hand from her mouth, I replace it with my lips, our breaths mingling in the dim light as we both come down from our high.
I pull out slowly, watching my cum trickle down her thigh, a stark and erotic contrast against her tanned skin.
I smirk at the sight before smoothing her dress back into place.
“Well, now you’re a mess, baby girl. I’m going to have to take you home. ”
“I think I can live with that.” She laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends another jolt straight through me.
I take her hand again, leading her out of the alcove and toward the exit.
With her dress wrinkled, hair slightly askew, and my cum trailing down her legs, I lead her past the ballroom without stopping.
I need to get her home, where I plan to spend what’s left of this night reminding her again and again exactly who she belongs to.
And as I do, I’ll thank whatever gods exist for giving me the one thing I never knew I needed…
A person to call home.