12. Epilogue
TATE
It’s four in the morning and my beautiful wife has my dick in her mouth.
She got what she needed three months ago when I killed her fucking father, but I knew it would take time to work through it all. But I’ll always be here to give her what she needs to come back to me. The dreams are less frequent now, but they still come.
She woke up gasping ten minutes ago, still asleep as she fought to find her breath. I have always been a light sleeper, so I guide her where she needs to be.
Now she’s on her stomach between my legs, her head in my lap, my dick resting heavily on her tongue. She’s not sucking to get me off. She’s just holding me there, breathing through her nose, letting the weight of me anchor her to the present.
I stroke her hair and watch the tension drain from her shoulders.
“That’s my good girl.” I keep my voice low. We’re in my old bedroom at the Sinclair family estate, here for my father’s birthday. Being outside of our normal bedroom at our new house might have triggered this restless night. “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby girl.”
She makes a small sound of appreciation around my cock.
I never want gratitude from her. My wife needs something, and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to give it to her.
Her breathing evens out. Her body goes soft against the mattress. And then her tongue starts to move.
She drags the flat of her tongue along the underside of my cock, and my hips jerk off the bed.
“Reese.”
She looks up at me, my dick still in her mouth, and the fear is gone from her eyes. What’s left makes my balls tighten.
She pulls off just enough to speak. “Fuck my mouth.”
I don’t ask if she’s sure. I stopped asking weeks ago. My girl knows what she wants, and she knows all she has to do is tell me.
I fist my hand in her hair and shove her back down.
She gags when I hit the back of her throat, and the sound goes straight to my dick. I hold her there, watching her eyes water, feeling her struggle to breathe around me.
“Look at you.” I start to thrust, using her mouth because it belongs to me. “Choking on my cock like a good little wife.”
She moans, and I feel the vibration everywhere.
I fuck her face just how she knows I like it. Her tears stream down her cheeks. Spit drips from her chin onto my thighs. She takes every inch I give her, gagging and never once trying to pull away.
This is the same woman who learned to go somewhere else in her head while men used her body.
Now she begs me to use her. And the difference is that she wants this. She chose this. She chose me. And if she told me to stop, I would fucking stop.
“Fuck.” The pressure builds at the base of my cock. “I’m going to come down your throat if you keep that up, baby girl.”
She sucks harder. But that’s not how I want to finish. I need my wife.
I pull her off my dick by her hair. She gasps for air, her lips swollen and wet, her face a mess of tears and spit.
“On your knees, baby girl.” I shove her toward the center of the bed. “Get that sexy ass up in the air for me.”
She scrambles to obey. I grab her hips before she’s even settled and slam inside her. She’s soaking wet, and I want her too fucking much to be gentle.
She screams into the mattress.
“Yell as loud as you want, baby girl.” I grip the back of her neck and press her face harder into the bed. “Let my whole fucking family hear how desperate you are for your husband’s dick.”
She whimpers, but the sound is muffled. I start to move, fucking her hard and deep, my fingers digging into her hip.
“Tate.” She’s shaking beneath me. She comes without warning, her whole body locking up, her pussy spasming around me. I fuck her through it, not slowing down, not giving her a chance to recover.
“I didn’t say you could come.” I pull out and flip her onto her back. Her eyes are glazed, her chest heaving. I grab her thighs and spread them wide. “Now I have to punish you, baby girl.”
I bury my face between her legs.
She cries out when my tongue finds her clit. I can taste both of us, her wetness and my precum, and I eat her pussy like I haven’t done this every day for months. My fingers dig into her thighs, holding her open, keeping her pinned while I make her take it.
“Tate, I can’t—” Her hands are in my hair, pulling, pushing, not sure if she wants more or less. “It’s too much.”
I suck her clit into my mouth and slide two fingers inside her. She’s so wet I can hear it, and the sound makes my cock throb.
“You can.” I curl my fingers and find the spot that makes her back arch off the bed. “You will. Come on my face, baby girl. Give me another one.”
I don’t stop until she’s sobbing, her thighs clamped around my head, her pussy dripping against my tongue. When she finally goes limp, I kiss my way up her body and position myself at her entrance.
“One more.” I push inside her slowly, letting her feel every inch. “And then I’m going to fill you up and make you sit through my father’s birthday breakfast with my cum dripping out of you.”
“Yes.” She wraps her legs around me. “Please.”
I fuck her slow this time. Deep, grinding thrusts that make her moan with every stroke. Her nails rake down my back. Her teeth find my shoulder, right where my tattoos of her bite marks are, and she adds another mark to my shoulder.
The sharp pain sends me over the edge.
I bury myself deep and come inside her, groaning against her neck, filling her up while she clenches around me. She follows a few seconds later, her fourth orgasm, and this one is quiet. Just a full-body shudder and a soft cry against my shoulder.
I stay inside her while we both come down.
“I need to get this one tattooed.” I trace my fingers over the fresh bite mark. The skin is broken, blood welling up in the shape of her teeth. “That makes four.”
“You’re running out of room on that shoulder.”
“Then start biting me other places, baby girl.” I pull out and watch my cum leak out of her. “I might let you shower before breakfast.” I kiss her again, unable to get enough of her. “But I’ll fill your pussy again in the shower.”
Later that morning, we all gather downstairs. My father hates his birthday, which makes forcing him to celebrate it one of our favorite traditions.
The whole family is here. Fox and Ivy are already at the table when Reese and I come downstairs.
Thorne is slouched in his chair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
My father is scowling at the spread of food Whitney insisted on having.
Whitney is ignoring his complaints and pouring herself coffee.
Reese squeezes my hand once before she takes her seat beside Ivy. I watch her settle into the chair, and I know from the small shift of her hips that my cum from this morning is soaking her panties right now.
Good.
“Nice of you to show up.” Thorne doesn’t look up from his phone. “Thought you might have had fucked enough already.”
“Thought maybe you’d be less of an asshole, little brother. But there you are needing your ass kicked.”
Fox snorts. Ivy hides a smile behind her coffee cup.
Whitney slides a plate in front of my father. “Eat your eggs, Dane. You can be a dick about it later.”
“You are pushing it, kitten. And I don’t know why my family insists on making a production out of something as meaningless as my birthday.”
“I think you secretly love that it brings all the children back to the house.” Whitney pats his arm. “You aren’t fooling anyone.”
My father grumbles but a smile appears. My dad is completely fucking whipped when it comes to Whitney, regardless of how controlling and possessive he may be. And based on the way he looks at her when she turns away, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
I get it now. I didn’t before, but now I fucking do.
Movement at the doorway catches my attention. Sloane is standing there, hesitating like she’s not sure she belongs. She’s Whitney’s daughter, well, my stepsister, technically. She’s back from college for the weekend, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in days.
Thorne’s head snaps up.
I watch him watch her. The way his jaw goes tight. Then he goes back to typing something on his phone.
Sloane takes the only empty seat, which is directly across from him. Neither of them acknowledges the other. And then her phone buzzes.
Reese catches my eye across the table. She noticed it too. I give her a small shake of my head. I hope he’s not fucking her. Dad won’t like that one fucking bit. But it’s not any of my goddamn business. That’ll be his bullshit to sort out if he goes there.
After breakfast, I find Reese on the back terrace staring out at the trees.
“Hey, baby girl.” I come up behind her and press my lips to her neck, right over the mark I left on her in the shower this morning.
“I love being here with your family.”
“I’m glad. They’re your family, too, now.”
They have welcomed her with open arms. She can even hold her own with Fox and Thorne, which is fun as hell to watch. Besides, I’d beat the shit out of them if they said something to her I didn’t like.
As soon as the Council reviewed the evidence and agreed that the sick fucks needed to be taken out, my dad and I personally oversaw the execution of each and every man who hurt my girl.
My dad had insisted on being there, and that meant a lot to me.
Reese decided she didn’t want to be there for any more deaths, but she understood my need to take care of it myself.
As much as I understand her darkness, she understands mine.
And if someone hurts someone I love, that shit can’t stand.
I know she’s relieved it’s done and she never has to see one of their faces again.
She turns to face me. “Are we just pretending there isn’t something weird about how Sloane and Thorne are acting?”
“Yes.” I grab her ass and pull her tighter against me. “Thorne can figure out his own shit. Just like I did.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “And what exactly have you figured out?”
“That I’d burn down everything and everyone I’ve ever known for you.” I grip her chin, tilting her face up. “That I’d kill anyone who looked at you wrong. That you’re the only thing in this world I give a fuck about having.”
“That almost sounds like you might be a little bit obsessed with me, babe.”
“Same fucking thing.” I kiss her hard, sucking her tongue into my mouth. “You’re mine, Reese Sinclair.”
She bites my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
“Good.” She licks the blood off and smiles. “Because you’re mine, Tate Sinclair.”
I kiss her again, tasting copper, thinking about all the bodies I’ve buried to get here. Her father. Michael Collier. Every name on that list. Men who thought they could touch what was mine and live.
They were wrong.
Reese pulls back and traces her thumb over my lip, smearing the blood. “Take me back to bed.”
“We’ve been here for less than an hour.”
“And?”
I grip her wrist and pull her in front of me and then spank her. “Get your ass upstairs now.”
She laughs as I push her through the house, past my family, up the stairs to my room. I kick the door shut behind us and shove her against it.
“You want to go again, baby girl?” I pin her wrists above her head. “Then you’re going to earn it.”
Her eyes go dark. “Make me.”
*******