Epilogue
Wes
I'm going to come.
Fuck. Too soon.
I clap my hand over Ivy’s mouth, and press my forehead to hers. “You have to be quiet,” I whisper while I grip the back of her knee, pushing up and opening her more for me as I pound relentlessly into her. Ivy’s eyes roll, and her head tips back against the bathroom wall.
“Can you be quiet?” I ask again, and she mumbles something into my skin, and nods under the weight of my palm.
I release her mouth and grab the back of her other knee, pressing it up against her chest, mirroring the other.
We both stare down and where we’re joined, hypnotized by my glistening cock disappearing into her sweet fucking cunt.
“You feel so good,” she whimpers quietly.
“Such a needy little pussy,” I growl, and pick up the pace, my balls tightening, and stomach clenching.
I aim, then spit directly on her pussy, the shot landing right on her clit. “Touch yourself, make yourself come,” I demand.
She clamps her lips together, a moan getting lodged in her throat, and obeys, rubbing tight, fast circles on her clit with her first two fingers.
“Fuck. Do that again,” she begs.
I spit again. This time it lands on my cock pumping in and out of her, adding slickness to the loud, crass sounds of our skin colliding.
“Oh my god. So fucking hot,” she mewls, eyes rolling back, and her tight, warm walls clench around me.
She comes hard.
Her entire body jolts forward, and she buries her face in my neck, riding out her entire climax between me and the wall.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” I whisper in her ear, and grip her ass, rutting into her at an unforgiving pace.
She bites down on my neck, right on the water lily to stifle her moans, and the pain mixed with the pleasure has me seeing stars.
I explode in her, pulse after pulse, filling her with my cum until it's dripping down both of us.
I gently set Ivy down and clean us both the best I can with the fancy paper towels on the counter. When our clothes have been adjusted, I push my fingers through my hair, trying to make it look presentable, and not like I just fucked the woman of the hour in the bathroom of her own book signing.
Ivy is now a published author, with the release of her third romance novel being just last week, hence the book signing. It’s her first one, and she was so nervous I had to bring her to the bathroom to take the edge off. By the dreamy look in her eyes, I’d say mission accomplished.
Her books are a really big hit in the paranormal romance world, and though I still haven’t completely wrapped my mind around it, I’m happy to be her smut guinea pig.
We casually exit the bathroom together, practically whistling our innocence, and make our way back to the front of the bookstore to get comfortable at her set-up. We have about ten minutes before the event begins, so I sit beside her, and grip her thigh.
I lean in and whisper into her ear, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, baby,” she whispers back.
My phone rings loudly in the quiet shop, and I hurry to slide it out of my pocket and accept the FaceTime from my mom, angling the phone so Ivy and I will be in the frame.
“Hi, Mom,” I greet her.
“Hi, honey. Lilah wanted to say good luck,” she replies, and hands the phone over to our chaotic seven year old.
“Hi.” She waves at the phone, and then angles the phone to show us what I think is a s’more.
“Hi, bug. Are you having fun at Nana and Papa’s? Are you all having a fire?” I ask her.
“Yes!” she yells, before dropping the phone, making the only thing visible the evening sky.
My mom picks up the phone, and hands it back, encouraging Lilah to continue our conversation.
“Say good luck,” my mom whispers to Lilah.
“Good luck Mama!” she shouts, grinning at the phone with a chocolate smile.
The smile that lights Ivy’s face is out of this world. “Thank you, Delilah. I love you. Eat a marshmallow for me.” Her voice cracks a little at the end.
“I love you. Okay,” she replies, then runs off, clearly done with the conversation.
It’s been years, but Ivy still gets sappy when Delilah calls her mama.
When Delilah asked to call Ivy Mom on our wedding day, Ivy was beside herself.
We had a good talk about Sarah, and what it meant for her to bring Delilah into the world, and how she’s still so important to us.
At the end of it, she decided she wanted to call Sarah, Mommy, and Ivy, Mama.
We got married in the clearing where we watch the sun set, with all of our closest friends and family—Rose included. She refused to be a bridesmaid no matter how much my wife begged. I can still see Ivy in her mothers dress, walking toward me, hand in hand with Delilah like it was yesterday.
“Good luck, darlin’.” We hear Maverick shout in the background, and I roll my eyes.
Ivy laughs. “Thanks, Mav.”
My mom wishes Ivy good luck, and tells her how proud of her she is, before ending the call. I know times like these make Ivy miss her parents more than usual, so my mom being there for her means a lot.
The bookstore employee lets us know that they will be opening the doors in a couple minutes, and Ivy takes a deep breath, making her chest rise and fall dramatically.
“Your tits look amazing in that dress,” I tell her, then kiss her neck. “You’re going to be great. They’re all here for you. There’s no reason to be nervous, and if anyone is mean, I’ll just throw them out.”
“I know you mean that in the literal sense,” she says on a scoff, and rolls her eyes, probably remembering that night years ago when I tossed that douche bag out of Mav’s bar. “Most of them are most likely women, so good luck with that.”
Shit, I didn’t think of that.
The doors open up, and a line of people file in. I’m not going to say I’m shocked by the amount of people, because in my mind everyone in the world should be here, but for her first signing I’m pleasantly surprised by the hoard of people that barrel through the doors.
Person after person interacts with Ivy, and I open each physical copy, setting it just underneath her hand to sign so she can give her readers her full attention.
They give her gifts, treats, and art they’ve made themselves. There’s drawings of fangs and blood, along with a few very explicit NSFW scenes that are admittedly impressive, but I avert my eyes because I don’t think it's appropriate for me to ogle them at the moment.
Later.
Every single treat that she’s given, I ask my rehearsed question, “Do these have walnuts?”
Ivy rolls her eyes every single time.
I sit there, and just watch in awe.
My love, my wife, basks in everything she’s worked so hard for. I’ve been there to watch every doubt, every self-deprecating thought, every late night, and every spark of perseverance that led her here.
My chest bursts with pride to be her husband, to be the one she chose as her partner. To be the one that stands beside her and gets a front row seat to all of her accomplishments.
After about an hour of Ivy meeting readers, and signing books, we leave the bookstore. And though we planned on going to a nice restaurant afterwards, I know my girl is tired. Her battery is drained. I bet she would rather order room service.
“Ditch our reservation, order burgers, and make each other come as many times as possible?” I ask her as I help her up into the truck.
She groans, and it sends a jolt straight to my dick. “Ugh, yes please.”
We turned this weekend into a much needed getaway, and I can’t wait to show Ivy what I have in store for her when we get to the room.
“That’s my girl,” I reply as she slides into her seat.
“Wesley?” she asks, stopping me from closing her door.
“Yeah, baby?”
She lifts a hand up and traces the water lily tattoo on my neck I got a couple years ago for her July birthday.
“I love you,” she says softly.
I wink back at her. “Headfirst.”