Epilogue Two
Penelope
The first smattering of rain against the window is my cue, desire making my pussy pulse. Sliding out of bed, careful not to jostle the imaginary Daniel and wake him, I tip-toe out of the bedroom and down the dark hallway, stopping to listen for anyone else who may be awake. All is quiet, and I ease my stepson’s bedroom door open. Peering out into the hallway once more, I silently close and lock the door.
A dim flash of lightning guides me to the opposite end of the room where my stepson is sleeping on his back with the crossroads quilt I made for him a few years ago pulled up just below his bare chest. My heart skips a beat when I slide under the covers and press the length of my body to his strong build. I kiss his neck softly, inhaling the scent of the brown sugar and vanilla body wash he keeps stealing from my shower.
Resting my palm in the middle of his chest to feel his heart beating slowly in his sleep for a long minute, I move my hand under the quilt and down his stomach to the waistband of his pajama pants. I gasp when his hand comes down on mine, preventing me from exploring any lower.
“Mama?” His voice is raspy with sleepy confusion. “Why are you in my bed?” There’s a thunderous crack outside, and he jolts. Perfect.
“Mama knows how scared you are when it’s storming outside. I came in here to cuddle you until it passes. Is that ok?”
He audibly swallows and nods, then removes his hand, letting it relax at his side. I stroke the hair on his belly and chest with my fingertips to soothe him. His breath stutters when there’s another round of thunder, and the rain starts beating down harder on the roof.
“Shh, baby, you’re ok. Mama’s here. You’re safe. Go back to sleep.”
“I…I don’t know if I can.” His body starts to tremble, and he scrunches his eyes closed.
“Are you still scared, baby?” He nods. I whisper in his ear, “Maybe Mama can take your mind off the storm. Help you relax so you can go back to sleep.”
“How?”
I slide my hand back down his torso, pausing at his waistband for a moment to see if he’s going to stop me, then dip under the material and apply the barest amount of pressure to his cock. He’s half-hard, which makes me think he must be at least somewhat excited to find me in his bed in the middle of the night.
“Mama,” he moans when I close my fist around his shaft, delighted when it swells. “I don’t think you’re supposed to touch me there.”
I give his cock a cursory tug. “Do you want me to stop?
“No,” he breathes out. “But…” His cock jerks, pre-cum wetting my palm when I drag it up to his tip. I tighten my hold to squeeze more of it out, then use it to coat his now rock-hard shaft. “I don’t want Dad to find out.”
Disappointed by his reaction but understanding of his reluctance, I loosen my grip and pull back. “Ok, I’ll stop.”
“Wait. Don’t stop,” he rushes to say. “I know it’s wrong, but it…it feels good. Really good.”
“Yeah?” Palming his slick erection, I work my fist from the base of him to the tip and back down again. My stepson moans loudly, and I shush him. “You have to be quiet if you don’t want your dad to catch us.” I drape my top leg over his thigh and grind my pussy against his side.
He rolls and bites his bottom lip as his hips jerk off the bed when I increase my speed. “I’m…I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
He turns his head to face me, slides his hand under my neck to palm the back of my head, and places a tentative kiss above my brow. “I’m scared of how good it feels.”
I push the comforter down his thighs and stretch his waistband enough to pull his cock out. I kiss the corner of his lips and whisper, “Don’t be scared, baby. Just enjoy it. Feel how big your cock grows in Mama’s hand.” We’re silent for a few beats, both of us breathing faster.
There’s a hint of unexpected jealousy when he asks, “Do you do this with Dad, too, to help him relax?” He gently tugs on my hair to tip my head back, a frown marring his handsome face.
“Not anymore. Your dad doesn’t like it when I touch him. He doesn’t like touching me either.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t think I’m pretty anymore.”
“You’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, Mama,” he says with conviction.
“You think I’m pretty? That I’m not too old?”
“No way. You’re so beautiful. He’s stupid if he can’t see it.” He rolls toward me and palms the back of my lower thigh while I slowly jerk his cock between us. With vulnerability, like he’s afraid I’m going to say no , he asks, “Since you’re touching me, is it ok if I touch you too?”
“Yes,” I answer with a moan, my skin tingling under the weight of his warm palm.
My stepson caresses up my thigh, pausing with a sharp inhalation at the hem of my silky, black negligee, then nudges under the material until he’s palming my bare ass cheek. “This part of you is beautiful, too,” he says with a throaty tone. I arch my back into his touch. “Is it ok if I…?” He inches his large body closer when I nod, then dips his fingertips between my cheeks experimentally, breathing heavily against my lips.
“Lower, baby,” I plead.
He follows the line down to my slippery wet pussy and gasps when his fingers make contact. “Is this where you want me to touch you?”
“Yes. Oh god,” I whisper-moan. “Push your finger inside me.”
“In…in here?” he asks when he discovers my small opening. He doesn’t wait for me to answer before thrusting his index finger halfway through.
“Baby,” I moan. “Keep going. I need you.” I’ve all but stopped jacking his cock when he pushes his finger deeper and pumps it in and out. “Two fingers now. Oh god!” I moan louder when he withdraws, then spears me with his index and middle fingers, the two of them pressed together larger than his Dad’s lousy dick.
“Too loud, Mama. We’re going to get caught.” He crushes his lips to mine, and I part my lips for him, easing my tongue inside his mouth in case he’s never kissed anyone before and doesn’t know what to do. It takes him a few seconds before he starts following my lead.
He eventually breaks the kiss with a groan and rocks his hips, fucking my fist to get me started again. When that’s not enough, he removes his fingers and rolls over on top of me, forcing me on my back with his knees between my thighs. He sits back on his heels and pushes my hem up to my belly button.
“Sometimes it hurts to look at you because you’re so beautiful, Mama.”
I run my hands up my body to cup and squeeze my breasts, my hard nipples in need of attention. His chest rises and falls faster, watching me.
“So are you, baby. So handsome and big and strong. You’re all grown up now. A man.” This next part is a bit tricky, and I have to be careful with my words. I don’t want to scare him off. “Do you know what grown-ups do when they’re in bed together? When they want to do more than just touch each other?”
“They have sex,” he says, followed by a gravelly moan. “Is that what you want to do?”
“Do you?”
“You’d let me put it in you?” He bucks his hips in the air, the veins in his hard cock throbbing. He swirls his two wet fingers around my opening before pushing them inside me.
“Yes, yes, oh god. Right there, baby. That’s where Mama needs you.”
He walks back on his knees and lowers himself on top of me, looking me right in the eye as I help him line the thick head of his cock up to my entrance. I loop my legs around his back, pressing my heels down in encouragement. I clap a hand over my mouth to muffle my scream when he slams his entire length inside me.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. Did I hurt you?”
I cradle the sides of his face and plead against his lips, “No, god, do it again, baby. Just like that.”
He smashes his lips to mine to swallow my scream when he snaps his hips back and thrusts. Dropping his weight onto my belly, he fucks me so hard and fast that I have to turn my head to the side and bite my fist to suppress the screams trying to force their way out of my chest when I orgasm.
He presses his face into my neck. “Oh god, it’s even tighter. I think I’m gonna cum, Mama. I-I have to stop.” He braces his hands on either side of my shoulders as he pushes off of me, pulling his dick almost all the way out.
I clutch his shoulders and lock my legs. “No! Don’t stop. Cum inside me, baby.”
“But…I’m not wearing a condom. You might get pregnant. That’s what the teacher said in health class.”
“Oh, please, yes! I want a baby so bad. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
His arms shake with the effort to hold still, only his cockhead still lodged inside me. “But it’ll be my baby. Not Dad’s,” he says with something that sounds like a mix of awe and joy. “We’d have to tell him what we’ve done. If you have my baby…I won’t pretend that I’m their brother. I’ll be their dad and will want to take care of them.” He adds softly, “I want to take care of you too.”
“Yes! That’s what I want, too. Please, please, please, cum inside me. Let me have your baby.”
“Oh, Mama, yes.” Falling on top of me, he thrusts back inside and fucks me with a force that has me cumming once again. He kisses me deeply throughout our mutual orgasms, flooding me with his hot cum.
“Thank you, thank you,” I whisper with a scratchy throat and an arm looped around his shoulders with my hand on the nape of his sweaty neck, enjoying how his cock plugs my pussy so none of his sperm will leak out.
When we’ve recovered, he rolls us onto our sides, yanks my knee up over his waist, then wraps his hand around my back and hugs me tight to his chest. He asks with some disbelief, “You really want to have my baby?”
I cup his cheek and press my lips to his. “Yes. You’re always so sweet and thoughtful, and I know you’ll be an amazing dad. Look how much you’ve already given me.” I squeeze my walls around him, praying his cum works its way deeper inside me and sticks. “I love you so much, and I hope you’ll grow to love me too.”
“I already do. I always have. You know that, don’t you?”
A tear slips down my cheek. “No, I didn’t. I knew you cared for me in some way, but…”
“I love you so damn much, Mama. It kills me watching the way Dad treats you. He doesn’t deserve you. I’ll treat you so much better than he ever—”
“Mommy? Daddy? Are you in here?” Kennedy’s little voice and knock on the door of my craft room, which also serves as our guest room slash playroom, is a record scratch, breaking the scene. Thank fucking god I locked the door, or we would have traumatized her for life. She knocks again, asking why we aren’t in our bedroom.
Jacob and I roll out of bed, righting our clothes. His cum slips down my thighs, and I grab the pack of baby wipes I keep in here for these occasions and clean myself up. My husband unlocks the door and eases it open a crack to tell our now six-year-old daughter, “Go back to bed, sweetie. We’ll be out in just a minute to tuck you in.”
“But George and Lincoln are awake too.” On cue, our twin eleven-month-old boys cry from their nursery across the hall.
“Shoot. Ok, how about you help Mommy and Daddy and wait in their room for us?”
She scurries off, and when the coast is clear, Jacob holds the door open for me, then follows behind as I rush down the hall to our bedroom. We hop in and out of the shower to clean the scent of sex and sweat from our bodies in record time, pull on our pajamas, and head to the nursery.
Just before we enter, while Kennedy is entertaining the twins, Jacob stops me with his hand on my wrist and brings me in for a hug. “I saw your birth control pills in the trash this morning. That wasn’t all play, was it?”
I bite my lip, caught red-handed. But then it occurs to me that if he knew I’d thrown out my pills already, then he deliberately chose to go along with the scene and cum inside me unprotected.
He sighs, though there’s a sparkle in his eyes. “Are you sure that’s what you want? You’re not even a year postpartum.”
“Tick, tick, tick,” I say, mimicking what I said during the car ride home from the bar the day we were reunited. “Our last hurrah before my ovaries turn to dust.”
He snorts. “You’re still a young buck,” he says in imitation of Mr. Andrews. “You know another baby means we’ll have to move again if you want to keep your craft room.”
“No way. I love this house, and I’m never giving up my craft room.” I immediately fell in love with our old five-bedroom farmhouse with its authentic country charm and wraparound porch built on the outskirts of Fort Worth—a thirty-minute commute from the school where we both still teach, sans Mr. Andrews—when we toured it a year after I gave birth to Kennedy. “I vote for building an addition instead.”
“Deal.” He leans in and kisses me after pushing me up against the wall.
Before we can get lost in the moment, a little body crashes into us and hugs our legs. It seems the whole house is awake now that our almost-four-year-old son, Franklin, has joined us.
Jacob swings him up into his arms. “Come on, Mama. Let’s get these kiddos back to bed so I can get you back in bed. Tick, tick, tick, and all that.”
He waggles his brows, and I laugh, following him into the nursery on a mission to get the kids settled and back to sleep as soon as possible. Mama’s not done with her stepson yet. Not by a long shot.
—THE END—