Epilogue
MARGEAUX
The monitor glowed green. Steady breathing, no movement, the white noise machine humming in the background.
Spencer had been asleep for ten minutes, which meant I had maybe forty before he woke up demanding water in the urgent, unreasonable voice of a two-year-old who’d inherited his father’s intensity and my stubbornness.
His room was the one with the forest mural. We’d had it refreshed last spring—the fox repainted, a family of deer added near the baseboards, a stream winding through the trees that Spencer liked to trace with his finger before bed.
Next door, the night sky room was waiting. Constellations still glowing in the dark. The moon still smiling. In four months, a crib would be underneath it.
My earbuds were on the kitchen counter. I still wore them—not every day, not as armor, but when I needed to focus on work. These days, I put them in because I chose the quiet, not because I needed it to survive.
Sebastian was in his office. Desk lowered, chair pulled in, three monitors casting blue light across his jaw.
The Aegis patent hung on the wall behind them—his name, alone, in black type.
The lawsuit had been over for three years.
He’d put Spencer down, read him the book about the fox twice, come downstairs, and said one more thing the way he always did when he meant thirty minutes.
I walked in barefoot with a glass of water in one hand and the baby monitor in the other. Set the monitor on the filing cabinet. Took a sip and set the glass next to it. Then I wrapped my free arm around his shoulders from behind and pressed my mouth against the side of his neck.
His hands stilled on the keyboard.
“Spencer’s down,” I said against his skin.
“I have one more?—”
“No you don’t.”
I smiled against his neck, then straightened as he turned his chair toward me. His eyes, still sharp from whatever code or report he’d been deep in, softened with that familiar spark of mischief.
“This is where I work, you know,” he said, voice low and teasing, one eyebrow lifting. “Professional environment and all.”
“That’s what makes it more exciting,” I whispered, already sinking down between his spread knees onto the thick rug.
My fingers worked quickly, undoing his belt, the button of his pants, the zipper.
I tugged his pants and underwear down just enough, freeing him.
The sight of him sent a rush of heat through me.
I wrapped my hand around the base and took him into my mouth, slow at first, tasting the warm, familiar salt of his skin.
Sebastian exhaled sharply, one hand threading into my hair. I licked and sucked, taking him deeper, swirling my tongue around the head before sliding down again.
I loved the way his thighs tensed under my forearms, the low groan he tried to swallow. I moved faster, hollowing my cheeks, losing myself in the rhythm and the power of reducing him to shaky breaths—until his fingers tightened in my hair.
“Margeaux—fuck—stop,” he rasped, voice rough. “Not like this.”
He pulled me up gently but firmly. I stood, and his hands were already at my waist, sliding my shorts and panties down my legs in one smooth motion.
I stepped out of them as he tugged me closer, turning his chair and nudging me until my back was against the edge of the desk.
He leaned forward, mouth hot and insistent between my thighs.
The first stroke of his tongue drew a gasp from me. He licked me open, slow and deliberate, then focused on my clit with devastating precision.
My knees weakened. I gripped the desk behind me as he devoured me, two fingers sliding inside, curling just right. The pleasure built fast and sharp, coiling tight until it shattered. I came hard against his mouth, biting my lip to stay quiet, trembling as waves of it rolled through me.
Before I could catch my breath, Sebastian pulled me onto his lap, guiding my legs so I straddled him in the wide desk chair.
His hands were urgent but reverent as he tugged my T-shirt up and over my head, then reached behind me to unhook my bra.
The cool air brushed my skin for only a second before his warm palms cupped my breasts, thumbs stroking over my already sensitive nipples.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and rough against my collarbone. “So fucking beautiful carrying our baby…and so wet for me already.”
I whimpered softly as his mouth closed over one nipple, licking and sucking with slow, deliberate pulls that sent sparks straight between my legs. He switched to the other, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp.
I reached between us, wrapping my fingers around his thick length, hot and hard, and guided him to my entrance. Slowly, I sank down.
The stretch was exquisite—every inch of him filling me so completely that a shaky, whispered “Oh God…” slipped from my lips.
When I was fully seated, I could feel him throbbing deep inside me, pulsing against my walls in a way that made my breath hitch.
Sebastian groaned, his forehead pressed to my chest. “That’s it, baby. Take all of me. Fuck, you feel so good.”
His thumb found my clit again, circling with perfect, slick pressure while his mouth stayed on my breasts—licking, sucking, gently biting until I was trembling.
I started to move, rolling my hips slowly at first, savoring the drag of him against that sensitive spot inside me with every motion. The chair creaked softly beneath us as I picked up speed, grinding down harder, chasing that deep, delicious fullness.
“Sebastian…” I whispered breathlessly, my voice breaking into a soft, needy moan.
Every thrust sent waves of heat rolling through my belly and thighs. I felt stretched, claimed, and so incredibly full of him. The pressure on my clit combined with the way he filled me was almost too much.
His free hand gripped my hip, helping me ride him faster. “Come on, Margeaux,” he rasped against my breast, voice strained. “Let me feel you come around me. I want to feel this pretty pussy squeezing my cock.”
The words pushed me over the edge. Pleasure coiled tight and then snapped. I came hard, burying my face in his neck to muffle my broken whimpers and gasps as my walls clenched rhythmically around him, wave after wave crashing through me.
Sebastian followed with a low, guttural groan, thrusting up into me once, twice, burying himself as deep as possible as he spilled inside me, pulsing hot and steady. His arms wrapped tight around my back, holding me close as we both trembled through the aftershocks.
I collapsed against his chest, weak and warm. His heartbeat thundered under my cheek, steadying mine. He pressed a kiss to my temple, his hand already drifting down to rest on my stomach, protective and reverent.
Four months. Barely showing, but he’d started doing this—palm flat, fingers spread, the same way he’d touched my waist the first night in this house. Measuring. Protecting. Reading the signal of something he couldn’t see yet.
“The room’s ready,” he said. “The stars still glow.”
“I know. I checked.”
The monitor on the filing cabinet glowed green.
Down the hall, the forest mural watched over our son.
Next door, the night sky waited for our daughter.
The house was quiet now, but it wouldn’t stay that way.
By morning, Spencer would be awake, running barefoot down the hardwood hallway, calling for us in the voice that filled every room.
The noise I’d been afraid of.
The best sound I’d ever heard.