Epilogue
Kade
Two Years Later
Wren settles Evie down for a nap and rushes back into the kitchen to pull a batch of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. She’s made Mom’s recipe famous in this cold little town outside of Alberta.
People come for miles to get a box of ‘Betty’s Cinnamon Twists’ hot and fresh out of the oven.
I know Mom would be proud to know her recipes were alive and well, and I know she’d be happy to hear that Wren finally had the bake stand she’d always dreamt of.
Every Sunday morning my little lamb goes down to the road and loads the small stand up with her newest baked goods, fresh eggs, and a few of the hand sewn creatures she’s come up with.
By Sunday after church, the stand is empty and everyone is placing next week’s orders.
“I have two more pre-order boxes to fill and then we should be good to go!” Wren says, setting the sticky buns out to cool. “Are you ready for church?”
I straighten the collar on my jacket and glance toward my girl. “Today’s sermon is very relevant. I’m talking about having faith through the storm.”
“Very relevant?” she says, tipping up onto her toes for a kiss. “Can I hear some of it?”
I drop my tone dramatically, putting on a little show for my girl.
“Imagine you’re in a small boat, lost in the darkness of the vast ocean.
It’s the middle of the night, the waves are crashing up over your boat, the wind is howling, and you don’t know if you’ll make it through.
You’re scared, your heart is racing, and there’s no end in sight.
Jesus never promised a storm-free life. John 16:33 says, in this world, you will have trouble,” I stand taller and hold my little lamb against my chest, breathing in the scent of flowers in her hair, “and then I ramble on from there and bore people to death, but that’s the gist.”
She sighs and squeezes my cheeks. “It sounds great, but it might be a little scary for the Sunday school kids, honeybun.”
I smile as she calls me honeybun, then kiss the top of her head gently. “You ready to tell everyone about the pregnancy?”
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “Then again, I’m kind of thinking maybe we should keep it to ourselves for a while longer.
I’m not sure I’m ready for all the hoopla yet.
I know Mary Ellen is going to throw a party right away, and Lizzy is going to have a fit when she finds out you’re officially off the market. ”
“I’ve been off the market since long before we got here.”
“Well, yeah, but she doesn’t play by the same rules everyone else does. Two kids means you’re off the market. One and a wife means you’re still thinking things over.”
“That’s stupid,” I groan and kiss her shoulder before rubbing my hand over the little bump she’s been growing for months. “Did I ever tell you that Leanne looked me up when I got out of prison?”
Wren’s eyes widen. “That slut! What did she want? Never mind, I know what she wanted.”
“She told me about her fan fiction and asked if I wanted to play some of it out.”
“Are you trying to make me jealous?”
I grab her and pull her closer. “Is it working?”
“A little. What did you tell her?”
“Didn’t even let her in the door, though I did hear from Tucker later that she was dating Michael.”
“Oh, damn.”
“Yeah. Never followed up to hear how all that went, but I have a feeling they both have their hands full. If I’m being honest, I need to look up Tucker one of these days. I know we can’t contact him, but it would be nice to know what happened with Mom’s house.”
“I know, I wonder about Tilly all the time. She’s not on social media or anything, so I don’t get updates.
I know we couldn’t invite them to the wedding, but I think they would have loved it.
That lake you found for our ceremony reminds me of the little spot outside of Whiskey Falls that you took me to all those years ago.
Honestly, though, I’m just thankful my folks were there.
I mean, Tucker only gave them twenty minutes to decide if they wanted to get in the van, leave everything behind, and relocate with us.
I was so relieved when they said yes. We have no idea what Zane would have done to them if they stayed.
” She glances down at her shirt as she’s talking, a wet spot growing over her nipple.
“Shoot, this is the second time I’ve had to change this morning.
I don’t remember this happening with Evie. ”
“Come here.” I tug my girl toward me and move her long hair out of the way as I unzip the pink and yellow dress she’s wearing. “I’ll clean you up.”
She pouts playfully as her dress falls to the ground, the puffy fabric pooling at her feet as I unclasp the nursing bra she wears to free her sopping tits.
Milk drips from the left tit, and she stares at me as I lean in, cupping my mouth on her breast to catch the dripping milk.
She weaves her tiny fingers through my hair as I suckle. “Have you ever considered that something might be seriously wrong with you?”
“What?”
“Yes! You love that breast milk way too much.”
“I love you and everything your body makes.” I suckle a little bit more, drinking down the milk she’s made, warm liquid dripping down my chin as she moans softly.
“I love you too, Father Anderson.”
My cock pokes against my zipper. “You know you can’t call me that without getting yourself into trouble. I’m a humble Sunday school teacher now, not a priest.”
Ever since our time in the rectory, hearing her call me Father Anderson does something to me. Something that’s very opposite of what it should do.
My cock drives hard against the inside of my jeans, my mind skipping to that dark and feral place I love finding myself these days.
“Say it again, little lamb, and I’ll pin you to the ground and make you scream. Do you want to scream?”
“Yes, Father Anderson, I would like to scream.”
I growl low and chase her through the house, her heavy, milky tits swaying and bouncing as she dodges into the bedroom and throws herself onto the bed, her ass up, that pink pussy dripping as she wiggles it toward me.
“Come on, Father. I don’t have all day.” She grins playfully. “Church starts soon.”
I growl low and step in behind her, tugging my hard cock from my jeans as I drive into her sopping, little pussy with worship on my lips.
“Dear Lord, you’re tight.” I push into her over and over again, the delicious sound of her tits slapping against her chest as I hold her close and fuck her deep.
“Right there,” she moans, gripping the edge of the sheets. “Oh my God, right there.”
I rub my hand over the small of her back before sinking into her hips, every moan she’s making more devious than the last.
“You better hurry, little lamb. I’m gonna lose it.”
A moment later, her body shudders and vibrates as she calls out in pleasure. Typically speaking, Wren’s sounds have always taken me over the edge, but today, I’m not sure which gets me harder. The little whines she makes or her dripping nipples currently soaking the sheets.
Fuck.
She’s halfway through her orgasm when I unload and spill my seed inside of her, my hands gripping her tighter as the ecstasy takes hold.
“My God,” I groan, thrusting into her, faster then slower, until I’m empty and my head is spinning.
I hold my girl against my chest, her rounded stomach in my hand as our baby boy kicks.
“I got thinking about names,” she says, flipping onto her back. “I kind of think maybe we should name him Beau.”
“Beau? I thought you hated the name Beau. Your dad had a hunting dog named Beau or something.”
“He did,” she rubs her hand down over her stomach as she climbs up from the bed and tosses on a pink flowered dress for church, “but I don’t know. Beau is kind of cute for a little boy. We can give him a mullet, a little flannel, and a fishing pole.” She grins. “He’ll fit right in up here.”
I reach for her to come back to bed. “Wait, you don’t get to leave me yet. We’re snuggling. That’s part of the package.”
She leans over the bed and lands a kiss on my lips. “That’s cute, honeybun, but we’re going to be late. You have a room full of kids waiting for your words.” There’s a lightness in her tone as she flutters down the hall toward our daughter. A lightness I live for. A light I follow.
I may be a sinner who’s disappointed a congregation of people and a heretic who’s failed his faith, but to this woman with long, dark, silky hair, I’ve found my home, my peace, and the place where I belong. I think God’s probably okay with that.
Thank you for Reading! Check out Tucker’s story here.