Epilogue
Jason:
Six months later:
The roar of the crowd washes over me, a familiar wall of sound that barely registers anymore. My focus is entirely on the woman standing at center stage, bathed in a rainbow of spotlights. Summer.
She’s singing her final song of the night, a ballad she wrote for me.
The one she sang for me for the first time on our wedding night, her body flush against mine, her voice shaking with emotion as she promised me forever.
Now, thousands of fans sing along with her, their voices a thunderous chorus that fills the stadium, but I know she’s singing just for me.
My cock thickens in my slacks as I watch her, an almost Pavlovian response to seeing her perform.
Knowing she’s mine. Knowing that every one of these adoring fans would be shocked to know what we do the moment she steps off stage.
How this sweet-faced pop star turns into a filthy little minx in my arms, begging me to fuck her until she can’t walk straight.
Tonight, she’s wearing a brightly colored maternity dress, a flowing, empire-waisted thing in shades of sunset pink and orange that drapes beautifully over the curve of her belly.
Our baby. She’s six months pregnant, carrying the child I put inside her on the night I took her virginity, and the sight of her, so full and ripe with my baby, makes my chest ache with a love so fierce it’s almost painful.
The dress is modest enough to fool the crowd, but I know what’s underneath.
I know the way her tits have swollen even more, how heavy and full they are, how they’re constantly leaking now, leaving damp patches on her bras.
How I spend half my nights with my mouth latched onto them, drinking her sweet milk while my cock is buried deep inside her.
A memory hits me, of her parents’ faces when she told them we were together.
The anger. The accusations. Her manager, Martin, ranting about how I’d ruined her career, how she’d lose her fans if they knew she was pregnant by her bodyguard.
But Summer, my sweet Summer, who’d never stood up to anyone in her life, had finally found the courage to tell them she wasn’t going to back down about this. She’d chosen me. Us. Our family.
The song ends, and I cheer along with the crowd, my pride in her swelling with every thunderous clap. She takes a final bow, blowing kisses to the audience, and then she’s striding toward the wings, her eyes finding mine immediately. A slow, secret smile spreads across her lips as she walks over.
She grabs my hand, her small fingers curling around mine, and starts pulling me toward her dressing room. “I need you,” she whispers, her voice breathless and urgent.
I let her lead me through the chaos backstage, my cock already hard and aching behind my zipper.
The moment the door to her dressing room clicks shut behind us, I have her pinned against it, my mouth crashing down on hers.
The kiss is rough, desperate, a frantic clash of lips and tongues.
I can’t get enough of her. I’ll never get enough of her.
I break the kiss just long enough to grab her dress and pull it over her head, tossing it aside. Then my mouth is on hers again, hungry and demanding. I push her panties down around her ankles while she reaches behind her to unhook her bra, freeing those gorgeous, milk-heavy tits.
Her hands move to my pants, her fingers fumbling with the zipper before she frees my hard cock, wrapping her small hand around it and squeezing. A groan rips from my chest, my hips bucking into her touch.
I kiss my way down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, loving the way she shivers and moans in response. I continue my journey downward, my tongue tracing a path between her breasts before I take one of her nipples into my mouth.
I latch on, sucking hard, and her milk floods my tongue, warm and sweet.
She moans, her hands tangling in my hair as she holds my head against her, encouraging me.
I drink from her like I’m a starved man, my cock throbbing with need, my own body responding with a primal satisfaction to the act of taking nourishment from her.
Before I can move to her other breast, she pushes me away, her chest heaving, her nipple glistening with my saliva. “Need you,” she gasps, her eyes dark with desire. “Inside me. Now.”
She turns and walks over to the dressing table, placing her hands on it while pushing her hips back, looking over her shoulder at me.
The sight of her like this - pregnant with my child, her pussy glistening and ready for me, her tits heavy with milk - it’s the most goddamn beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I move behind her, my hands gripping her hips as I line my cock up with her entrance.
I’m too fucking desperate to be inside her to bother taking off my clothes.
My dick is out, and that’s the only thing that matters right now.
With one hard thrust, I’m buried inside her, filling her completely.
She cries out, her back arching as she takes me in.
“Look at me,” I command, my voice rough.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror over the dressing table, and I start to move, fucking her with long, hard strokes.
I watch her face in the mirror, watching the pleasure wash over her as I pound into her, my balls slapping against her clit with every thrust. Her heavy tits sway with the rhythm of our fucking, the sight making me even harder.
I don’t hold back. Not anymore. I know she likes it hard and fast, and God knows I need it that way too.
My hands roam over her body, cupping her tits, pinching her nipples, touching her belly, loving all the signs of her femininity.
It drives me wild knowing that she’s carrying my baby, that I’ve claimed her in this way.
“Mine,” I growl, my hips pistoning into her. “All fucking mine.”
“Yours,” she gasps, her hands gripping the edge of the dressing table. “Always yours.”
Her words send a fresh wave of need through me, and I feel my own release building, the pressure in my balls intensifying. My fingers dig into her hips, my movements becoming more erratic as I chase my climax.
“Touch yourself,” I command. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
She doesn’t hesitate. One of her hands moves down between her legs, her fingers finding her clit.
She starts to rub herself in tight, fast circles, her breath hitching as she brings herself closer to the edge.
The sight of her touching herself while I fuck her is almost too much, my cock swelling inside her as I watch.
“Fuck,” I growl, my hips slamming against hers. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re about to come for me.”
“Jason,” she gasps, her fingers moving faster. “I’m... I’m close.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I say, my own release building to an almost painful intensity. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”
Her body tenses, her back arching as her orgasm crashes over her. Her pussy clenches around my cock, milking me, and it’s all I can take. With a final, powerful thrust, I bury myself inside her, my cock pulsing as I empty myself into her. “Fuck! Summer!”
We ride out our orgasms together, our bodies trembling with the force of it.
I slump against her, my chest heaving, my heart hammering against my ribs.
For a long moment, we just stay like that, my cock still inside her, our bodies slick with sweat, the room filled with the sound of our ragged breathing.
Then I straighten up, pulling out of her gently. I help her stand up, my arms wrapping around her waist as I turn her to face me. Her eyes are soft, hazy with pleasure, and I lean down to press a tender kiss to her lips.
“I love you,” I whisper against her mouth.
“I love you too,” she whispers back, her hands coming up to rest on my chest, right over my heart.
I pull her closer, my hands moving down to cup her belly, our baby pressing between us.
“You know,” I murmur, my voice low, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of watching you perform.
Seeing you up there, commanding that stage, knowing that every single guy out there wishes they were me... it drives me fucking crazy.”
A soft laugh escapes her lips. “Good,” she says, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of having my big, strong bodyguard waiting for me backstage, ready to have his wicked way with me in my dressing room.”
I grin, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. “Is that what I do? Have my wicked way with you?”
“Mmmhmm,” she hums, her head tilting to give me better access. “You definitely do. You’re so wicked, Jason.”
“Only for you, sweetheart,” I growl, my teeth nipping at her sensitive skin. “Only ever for you.”
She shivers, her arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer. “I still can’t believe this is real sometimes,” she admits, her voice soft. “That I get to have you. That we’re married, having a baby... it’s like a dream.”
I pull back, my hands framing her face, forcing her to look at me. “It’s real, Summer,” I say, my voice firm. “This is our life. And it’s only going to get better. I’m going to make sure of it.”
She smiles, her brown eyes shining with tears. “I know you will,” she whispers. “You already have.”
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her flush against me, my chin resting on the top of her head. She fits against me perfectly, like she was made to be there. And she was. I’ve known it from the moment I laid eyes on her, and every single day that she’s mine, I love her more and more.