Epilogue
Bree
I finish helping my patients and step away to my office for my lunch break. I was awake early this morning when Elaine couldn’t get in touch with Ethan. Joyce was having chest pains but refused to go to the emergency room.
I didn’t want to risk waking Dalton, so I hurried from bed and left a scribbled note for him to find later.
Then I drove as quickly as I could down the mountain to get to the retirement home.
By the time I got here, it was clear Joyce was having a bout of indigestion, which can mimic the symptoms of a heart attack for women.
Ethan arrived an hour later, and between the two of us, we were able to convince her to go to the emergency room just to be on the safe side. He’s fond of the woman he’s started to think of as a grandmother and even attends her tango classes now.
Once Joyce was settled, I called Dalton who told me he missed me in that rumbly, sleepy voice of his. It’s been three months since we married, and these have been the best three months of my life.
When we’re not naked together, we’re busy renovating the cabin. The days are long now. Each beautiful summer day with abundant sunshine that feels like a hug from nature and tall grass that tickles when I walk through it barefoot.
My boot is off now. It’s a relief to be free from that, though I’m still a little accident-prone. Just yesterday, Dalton caught me when I tripped over my own two feet.
I hurry into the room and take a seat behind my desk. There’s another chair in here, so that Dalton can hang out. We often eat lunch together. When I’m on rounds, he brings lunch to me. When I’m not busy, I bring lunch, and we eat outside in the beautiful garden area where we had our first date.
I pause when I see the familiar envelope. Dalton still writes me love letters, even though we’re married now. He doesn’t do it all the time and he doesn’t keep any schedule.
He says he likes surprising me, and I love that I never know quite when to anticipate his next letter. They’re always so sweet, filling me with warmth.
I open this one, careful to preserve the wax seal. Every letter he sends me gets tucked away in a special decorative box in the cabin. It’s stored under our bed, and I imagine that one day our kids will look through these letters and see the evidence of their parents’ love story.
Dear Wife,
I had dirty dreams about you all night long. In my favorite one, I’d just come home from work to find you on the front porch of our cabin. Wearing nothing but my ring and a smile. The sight of your perfect body in the fading light of sunset had me rock hard in an instant.
Your hair was down, falling in waves over your shoulders. Your breasts moved with every breath, your tits sharpening to points under my lustful gaze.
Your beautiful curves were on display, letting me roam my hands all over and appreciate every inch of your skin. From your belly to your ass cheeks, there wasn’t an inch I didn’t touch and caress.
I didn’t go lower until you were squirming, squeezing your thighs together and desperate for relief.
That’s when you leaned against the porch railing, and I drank down your juices, letting them soak through my beard.
You moaned through your orgasm, joining the soft trilling sounds of the birds and letting the heavens know I was doing what I was created to do–give my woman pleasure.
Then I pulled you down onto the porch, spread you out on that colorful rug you love so much, and plowed into you. I took you hard and fast, coming inside of you as you screamed through another earth-shattering climax.
When I woke up, I had your name on my lips, and I was so damn hard. Too bad you’d left before I was awake. Now, I’ll be thinking about your body all day long and counting down the minutes until I can see you.
Forever yours,
Your husband
I finish reading the letter, my panties damp and my breathing shallow. Dalton’s never written me a letter like this. I’m more turned on than ever before. I don’t know how this man does it, but he always makes me so damn horny.
I tuck the letter away where no one is likely to find it and try to return to my work, but I can’t focus, knowing that Dalton will be arriving for lunch soon. Every minute that passes feels like a year. When he’s fifteen minutes late, I’m ready to combust from need.
Finally, the door clicks open and he walks in. He holds up the food from Ernie’s diner.
“Where were you?” I hiss.
“Getting lunch,” he answers innocently and sets the bag of food on my desk.
I take a deep breath and decide to play his game. I can act completely normal too. I open the bag and find only one burger and fries. I look at him. “Where’s your lunch?”
He locks the door and gives me a grin. “I was planning on eating my wife’s pussy for lunch.”
I moan his name and come around the other side of the desk so we have more room. I sit on the edge, and he tugs down my scrubs before dropping to his knees.
He licks me all over, working me higher and higher. I have to bite down on my lip to keep quiet. I finally explode, tugging on the short strands of his hair.
When it’s over, I slump boneless and exhausted, but still not nearly sated.
He stands, already knowing I need more. He yanks down his pants, aligns our bodies, and pushes inside of me. Carefully, he maneuvers me until I’m pinned between his hard body and the wall. Then he bounces me on his cock, setting a relentless pace as he plays with my clit.
It’s only a matter of seconds before I come again, stars exploding behind my eyes. He keeps going, fucking me through the orgasm like a man on a mission.
When I realize he hasn’t come, I lean close. I know exactly what to say. We’ve been talking about this for a while now. I finally made the decision this morning, but I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet. I whisper in his ear, “I threw away my birth control pills.”
That’s what does it. All of a sudden he’s filling me with long, hot spurts of his come. As he holds me trapped against the wall, he just keeps coming and I’m helpless to do anything but take it.
Even when our breathing has started to even out, and his thick cock is beginning to soften, he doesn’t pull out. He stares down at me, a wild look in his eyes. His voice is rough. “Are you going to give me a baby?”
I have every intention of doing that. “Yes, husband. I’m going to be a good wife and give you a baby.”
He hardens again and begins pumping into me. At this rate, I might just have to call in sick for the rest of the day. Not that I’m complaining. There’s nothing like the feeling of my strong husband breeding me for his pleasure.
After we both come again, he collapses into the chair. But he hasn’t let me go. I’m still in his arms, and I curl up on his chest while he feeds me french fries and presses soft kisses to the top of my head. I breathe in his scent and relax against him.
“I take it you liked my most recent letter,” he murmurs.
I chuckle. “I loved it. I can’t wait for you to write more of them.”