63. Epilogue
Leon Aldon
Seven Years Later
I huff and glare at the piece of shit crying on my table.
Why do they always cry?
It's pathetic!
I ask a simple question, and instead of getting answers, I get a blubbering mess from what is supposed to be a grown man.
“Matthew, you need to explain yourself before things get worse for you.” I snap.
My patience is wearing thin. Maeve has been gone for a week, and it’s ruining my mood more than this man's pathetic crying and begging on my table.
“Please don’t kill me!” He cries.
I slam my hand down on the table, huffing in frustration yet again. “Shut up!” I yell, interrupting his pathetic crying. “Explain what happened with Emily. Now.” I say sternly.
Matthew goes on, babbling and crying, while explaining that he was leaving a bar when he saw Emily, my patient. He said she was so beautiful that he had to get to know her, so he approached her while she waited for a taxi.
He explains how he tried to get her to give him her number, but she tried to get away from him.
He actually sounded sorry as he cried and babbled on, but I know he’s not. I’ve read the police report, I’ve heard Emily’s perspective of things, and I’ve even overheard this asshole laughing about the whole event with his friends.
No, he's not sorry about hurting Emily. He's sorry that he's strapped to a table and is going to die.
He's sorry that several of his teeth are lying beside him and that Emily's name is carved into his stomach.
Matthew's storytelling is interrupted when I hear a knock at the door. I pull out my phone to check the camera, smiling when I see it’s my Maeve. I rush to open the door, wrapping Maeve in a tight hug the second the door is open. She even kicks the door shut behind us.
“I missed you!” She says happily.
I breathe in the beautiful scent of my girl, blueberries and lavender.
Fuck, I’ve missed her so fucking much for the last eight days. “I’ve missed you, ma fleur.” I say into her hair. I lift my girl up to my height, one hand around her waist, and the other I hold onto her hair.
She wraps her legs around my waist, clinging to me tightly. "I love you!" She says happily.
Fuck, I've missed that.
I missed hearing her voice in person; the phone doesn’t do her justice; it doesn’t portray how angelic she sounds. "I love you." I say back to her.
I move to sit on the stool in the room with Maeve in my lap since she refuses to unravel her legs from my waist. “Tell me about your trip, ma fleur.” I insist.
Matthew bursts out a violent sob, breaking my moment. "Do you mind? I haven't seen my wife in over a week, and you're being quite rude." I say with a huff.
God, some people’s kids…
“Anywho, tell me about your trip.” I repeat happily to my darling wife.
My girl doesn’t wait for Matthew to quiet down; she just happily starts explaining her trip.
She was in Maryland evaluating a business in hopes of being more sustainable. She explains that they still have a ways to go before she’s willing to certify them as a green company but that she won’t be making another visit; she’ll send one of her associates.
Fuck, I’m so proud of my girl.
Although it took a little longer than she would have liked, she became the top of her field, even with a baby on her hip and another in her belly. She grew to be one of the most respected and now runs a rather impressive branch at the company she works for.
I swear, I fall more and more in love with her every day when I see how excited she gets at her work, how phenomenal she is at it, and everything else she does.
“How was your week? Who is this?” She asks curiously.
I grin and turn my focus to Matthew for a moment, the blubbering fool that I believe pissed his pants.
That’s embarrassing…
It’s a good thing he’s about to die, or I’d tell everyone he’s ever met that he’s not even potty trained at his ripe ass age.
“This is Matthew. He hasn’t told me what happened yet; he’s a bit of a crybaby, but from what I’ve heard from my newest patient, he curb-stomped a 19-year-old girl. She’s needed three reconstructive surgeries so far and will need at least a few more even to look somewhat like her former self and have the ability to eat again. It’s already been over a year, and her jaw is still wired shut.” I explain with a huff.
Can I hit him again?
I understand wanting who you want, but I never could have disfigured my Maeve. That’s not infatuation; that’s cruelty and brutality for the sake of saving your pride.
It’s disgusting.
Matthew chokes on blood, spitting it away from his face as much as he’s able, but I had to secure his head still a few hours ago. For some reason, he kept jerking away when I’d rip his teeth out, so I had to make sure he couldn’t move.
“Please help me! He’s insane; I didn’t do anything wrong.” He sobs.
I know he’s not begging my wife for mercy.
I bark out a laugh and focus my attention on Maeve again, but she’s focused on Matthew. “Well, I do have something to discuss with him if you’re willing to wait.” She says sweetly.
Now what is ma petite fleur up to?
When she turns to look at me again, I quirk an eyebrow at her. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” I ask.
I hold onto her hips, squeezing her in my hands and sighing in relief that I’m feeling this woman again. I’ve missed her so much that it’s ridiculous.
She rests her hands on my shoulders and grins, and she starts to rock her hips against me, and my cock starts to wake up. “I want another baby.” She blurts out.
I pull her into me until our foreheads rest together, and her blueberry smell fills my nose even more. Even jetlagged, this woman is flawless.
I’m addicted, but I’m also not falling for her charm.
“What about the four you already have?” I ask with a chuckle.
She dramatically explains that our oldest, Oliver, will be seven soon and that he’s too independent. He doesn’t want his mom’s help with anything, and she wishes he was back in his phase where he was obsessed with her.
She moves on to Lya, our five-year-old, who doesn’t let us pick out her clothes anymore because she’s a “big girl.”
Really, she just ends up wearing far too many princess dresses at home, and we have to force her to let us help her pick out her clothes for school. Otherwise, it would be Halloween costume princess dresses year round.
Lastly, she goes on to remind me that our twins turned two this year, that Cole and Kace are in their “terrible twos,” and that she misses having a small baby in the house.
She misses having something that she has total control over.
I sigh and pull her into me until I can kiss her lips. Fuck, I’ve missed the taste of her.
“Ma petite fleur, I am too damn old to start over.” I say with a slight huff.
I’m fucking 42, for fuck sake; I can’t start over. It already exhausts me to keep up with the twins!
I might be in excellent shape, but I don’t have the same stamina as I did when we met.
Fuck, I can’t even fuck Maeve back to back without needing a break in between.
My girl barks out a laugh and reaches between us to start unbuckling my pants, but I won’t stop her; she still has her bar in, so I can’t get her pregnant right now, anyway.
Thank fuck.
“Bullshit. You’re in better shape than me; I’m the one who has to stop for a breather when Kace and Cole decide to run from me. I’m the one who has to stop during our weekend hikes to ring my shirt out.” She points out with a carefree laugh.
She’s not wrong; my girl may be skinny but not in shape, but that doesn’t change my answer.
I’m too fucking old for this.
“Come on, please? Just one more before I’m 30.” She whines.
God dammit.
I’m so fucking lucky she has that bar in; my self-control is non-existent right now, and she knows it.
She reaches her hand into my pants and grabs my cock, making me groan and tip my head back.
“Please. Fuck me like you hate me.” She whispers in my ear while her thumb grazes over the piercing through the head of my cock that we got done a few years ago.
I open my mouth to ask if she’s sure about this, not wanting to remind her that she can’t get pregnant right now, but she sinks down onto my cock, and all I can do is groan.
I grip onto her hips so tightly that she hisses, but I don’t care. She asked for this.
“Fuck, ma fleur, I’ve missed this. Tell me, did you think of me while you were gone?” I tease.
I stand up and grab onto her thighs, moving us both until I can sit her on top of Matthew, and I can fuck into her how I need.
“Hmm? Did you think of me fucking you while you were gone? Did you miss me?” I tease.
My thrusts start rough and fast, plowing into her so roughly that I see her nails digging into Matthew’s thighs so harshly that he screams out, and blood begins to drip from his leg.
I fucking love it.
“Fuck!” Maeve screams out.
She wraps her legs around my waist and throws her head back while I fuck her without mercy. I feel her walls flutter and tighten around me, and I’m yet again trapped, thinking of anything and everything I can to make this last.
Why the fuck does my wife have a magic pussy? I swear, I’d last 40 seconds if I didn’t distract myself.
“Don’t you dare cum; tell me if you’ve thought of me while you were gone.” I demand when I feel her pussy start to tighten around me.
She whimpers and picks her head up until she can look me in the eyes and smirk. “Yes. Airport security stopped me because I was wearing the little toy you’d gotten me.” She admits.
Fuck.
Think of the Star Spangled Banner.
Oh, say, can you see…
Fuck, that’s the National Anthem.
My girl got caught by security with a life-sized mold of my cock in her.
God damn.
“I’m so fucking in love with you.” I moan.
She grins and leans into me, finally releasing Matthew’s thighs and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “It was in my ass.” She whispers against my lips.
Motherfucker.
I groan loudly as I cum, unable to stop myself after hearing her beautiful confession; luckily, my girl is right behind me, and I’m able to watch as she cums.
Her eyes roll back, and she screams so loudly that it echoes in the room until my ears are ringing and my head is spinning.
“That’s my fucking girl, take every drop.” I demand.
When Maeve calms and her body slumps against mine while her arms tighten around me, I decide to ruin her day.
“You have the bar, ma fleur.” I whisper into her ear.
She chuckles, and I’m able to look up just in time to see her pull something out of her pocket.
This little psycho has her birth control bar in a sandwich bag. “I cut it out on the way to Maryland.” She admits proudly.
I grip tightly onto her throat, squeezing so hard that she gasps until it’s silent and her face turns red. “You tricked me.” I point out.
She grins, a devious and proud grin while nodding at me. “You tried to trick me.” She whispers with what little oxygen she can get.
I slowly pull out of her, looking down to see my cum leaking from her. “You’re right, I did.” I admit.
I grab the hunting knife on the autopsy table, the one I’d planned to use on Matthew, and slide the thick plastic handle inside of her until only the blade is poking out. “Don’t want you to lose a drop since you worked so hard to make this little plan work.” I say with a laugh.
“No, sir.” She says breathlessly.
My God, I am so turned on that my cock is already getting hard again.
“Head upstairs; I’ll finish up down here and come fuck you again. You’re sleeping with your legs up.” I demand.
If she wants another baby so badly that she carved into her arm just as I had seven years ago, she’s getting a fucking baby.
“What’s stopping you from fucking me right here, right now?” She asks with an adorable giggle.
I turn my attention to Matthew before looking back at her. “I have some loose ends to tie up.” I remind her.
She huffs and jumps off the table, making me grin at how careful she’s being not to drop my knife or cut herself.
“Good girl, if you lose that knife, no baby tonight, but I will make you fall asleep with my cock in your ass.” I tease.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She says with a wink before her attention is back on Matthew. “Finish your story.” She demands.
With another pathetic whine, he continues to explain that Emily declined his advances, stating he was too old for her.
I can understand that, this man is easily in his 40s while Emily is only 19.
But he explains that he didn’t like that, so he grabbed her arm to stop her from getting in the cab and informed her that she would go home with him.
Why the fuck didn’t the taxi driver stop him?
Better yet, why did he drive away when Matthew told him that she was with him and that he could leave?I think he may be my next stop.
“Then what happened?” Maeve asks sweetly.
“She tried to get out of my hold and fell and hit her head on the curb.” He says with a loud sob.
She reaches and tucks one of his hairs out of his face, smiling down at him and making rage bubble within me.
I hate when she looks at other men.
If he weren’t already about to die, he would be now.
“Mistakes happen.” She says with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.
“Exactly! It was an accident!” He says urgently.
I "tsk" him and shake my head when they both look at me. "Her falling was certainly an accident, but how does one accidentally stomp on the back of someone's head until they’re pulled away by patrons of the bar?” I ask.
Matthew starts to ugly cry again, like a really ugly cry. I hate it when they do that; it's laughable. "No. She embarrassed me in front of half the bar!" He yells through his sobs.
I roll my eyes and head toward my cabinet of equipment.
I'm not done with this guy. "I'll only be a few more hours, ma fleur. If you want to head upstairs and grab a shower or some dinner, I'll be up in a little while for round two." I say sweetly to my lovely wife while I dig for a few tools.
My girl huffs and spins around until she can face me. “There’s a knife inside of me, and I haven’t gotten to kill anyone in months.” She pouts.
I love this woman so goddamn much. “He’s all yours.” I say with a smile.
Maeve grabs a crowbar, a primitive choice, but she prefers brute force violence, while I like them to suffer; it works for us.
She's fucking brutal, and I'm obsessed.
Watching my wife kill has to be one of the hottest things I've ever seen, aside from watching her cum.
I sit back, admiring my girl while she smashes Matthew's kneecaps with the crowbar, earning pathetic screams and begging for mercy. "So what does this Emily look like now?" She asks me.
My patient is rough, and she has a rough life ahead of her. "She's needed facial reconstruction, almost a full mouth of dental implants and skin grafts. She was able to ask the EMT on the scene for a DNR, but the family argued it. Otherwise, she wouldn't even still be here." I explain.
I feel so bad for this young woman that I probably wouldn't have her committed. If she told me she wanted to die, I'd understand. The life she is forced to live now is a hard one. She will always have struggles and I would more than understand if she was too tired to continue.
She's been tube-fed for almost two years since her mouth doesn't function how it should anymore.
Maeve looks down at Matthew, shaking her head like she's disappointed in him. "You know, my son Oliver is six. Even he knows that it's not nice to hurt women. You're supposed to protect them from idiots like you. We have enough struggles in our lives without men adding to them." She lectures.
I have to hold back a laugh at my wife lecturing this grown man like she does our kids.
Matthew sobs, his screams quieting for a moment. "I'm sorry! Okay? It was a mistake! I was drunk!" He looks so pathetic, begging my wife for mercy like this.
Maeve doesn't do mercy when it comes to the scum of the earth that we deal with. "Sorry doesn't fix Emily's face, does it?" She asks, staring down at him just like she does our kids when they screw up.
She's half this man's age, yet he's looking at her like a toddler that threw a toy. "Does it?" She yells, smacking the crowbar down onto the metal table.
Matthew jumps, his tears starting up again. "No!" He yells.
Maeve ends up smashing Matthew's jaw with the crowbar, making him howl in pain before passing out. When he’s unconscious on the table, she reaches under her skirt and rips the knife out of her cunt, stabbing him in the temple and finally ending his life.
“He was boring. Can we go for round two now?” She says with a shrug.
I quickly stand up and pull my girl into my chest. “We can, but you broke the rule. Now you know what happens, right?” I ask with a smirk.
My girl grins and shrugs, faking innocence I know she hasn’t had in years. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to, please don’t fuck my ass.” She says sarcastically.
I grip her ass tightly, digging my nails in until I see her fighting off a reaction. “Go upstairs and strap yourself into your spreader bar; I want you on your hands and knees by the time I get upstairs.” I demand.
I have a few things to clean up down here before I can join her, but that will give her a moment to get cleaned up before I make a mess of her again.
Tonight, I want to welcome my girl home properly. I want to devour every inch of her while our kids sleep just down the hall.
I want her to fall asleep when she’s in tears, begging for mercy and full of cum.
I want her aching with each step tomorrow while she pretends we’re a typical family.
She can wake up early and surprise the kids with breakfast before we spend the whole day together like normal people.
That is until the kids are in bed and our next toy is strapped into the basement.
The End.