Epilogue
“Ride my cock, baby.”
I froze on the stairs.
Nope. Absolutely not.
“I’m going to fill this sweet little cunt so full; you’ll feel me all day, Mrs. Brockmann.” Phoebe’s answering moan said it all.
Ugh. I wanted to hate them. The happy newlyweds. I couldn’t, though. I was too happy for my best friend and her new husband, even if I gave him shit on a regular basis.
After all Phoebe had been through in the last couple of years, especially the last couple of months, my girl had earned her happiness, and Wanda and I were ready for anyone who tried to take it from her.
Flopping down on the living room couch, I pulled my earbuds out of the case and shoved them in my ears. I’d had to invest in a pair with significant noise-canceling abilities to drown out the sound of the never-ending fuck-fest.
I knew when Ty checked me and Lock into a hotel after her doctor’s appointment a week ago that Phoebe had been cleared for a little cardio-sexual activity.
Granted, I didn’t think any of what I’d heard or unfortunately witnessed counted as “light” activity.
I made a note to attend Phoebe’s next doctor’s appointment.
Oh, yes, I was going to enjoy this, I thought with a shit-eating grin.
Mentally, I catalogued all the dirty things I was going to recount for Phoebe’s doctors, ensuring each one had their seal of approval.
Yes, indeed. Fun times for Alex were going to be had.
I could just imagine Ty making good on his threat to find a vat of holy water to dump me in.
Given the lovely predicament I’d landed myself in, I felt it was only right to get my kicks where I could.
My hand dropped to my stomach. I tried to imagine the tiny life I now knew was in there. Looking at the picture clutched in my other hand, I tried to make sense of it.
I hadn’t been prepared for the doctor to tell me that the flu I thought I had was actually morning sickness.
It had taken a full minute for me to grasp what he was saying.
I was pregnant. When it did sink in, I had…
flipped the fuck out. I was currently waiting for an official visit from Wade and probably a letter from the clinic gifting me with a lifetime ban.
But seriously…how did I get here?
Looking back, I tried to see where I’d turned left when I should have gone right. All I knew was when Phoebe was shot, my life had exploded right along with hers.
The day I’d finally gotten back home, the day she was released, I’d found Preston had packed up all our things, had given notice on our apartment, and had bought a new condo across town. Oh, all with his new girlfriend.
I’d gone to my sister’s place and spent the night trying to figure out where I could dispose of his body. I didn’t care about his new girlfriend. I’d already decided to break up with him, so the end was really mine. Still, he’d messed with my home, and I couldn’t let that go unchallenged.
The next morning, things had gone from bad to the point that I was close to committing a felony.
Showing up at work, I found Preston had Preston Senior fire me. I’m sorry, made my position redundant. I was the accountant for the entire architecture firm, so I didn’t know how they could get by without me doing their payroll.
I’d taken great pleasure in storming into Senior’s office and throwing his severance package back at him. He’d been shocked, thinking little Alex Lane—and wasn’t he in for a surprise with my last name—was just some blond bimbo screwing his son.
I was going to remember the look on his face when I told him I didn’t need his money.
His scoff was followed by a threat that if I thought I’d get more money claiming something like sexual harassment or something like that, my stupidity was bigger than my tits.
I stared at Senior, the footsteps of what I knew to be the security officers of the building coming heavily down the hall.
Preston smirked, clearly pleased.
I looked down my nose at them. “Oh, you poor, poor little boys. If you think I need you or your money, you’re delusional.
Did you know the HR manager that hired me hated you two?
” I had no problem saying this because I knew she was enjoying her life across the ocean.
“Funny thing about treating your female employees badly. They’re far too willing to bend the rules if it means you’ll get your comeuppance. ”
“Your bleating isn’t going to get you anything.” Senior dismissed me.
And you did not dismiss me.
“Before you had my severance package drawn up, you probably should have checked my original employee file.” The file I’d convinced the HR manager to keep only on paper and in a file, not part of the electronic record. “And you”—I flicked my wrist at Preston—“you should have really known better.”
“What is she talking about?” Preston’s mother spoke for the first time.
“I’m talking about the fact my name isn’t Alex Lane. No. Lane is my best friend’s maiden name.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Senior pushed to his feet, waving the security guards into the office. Guards who knew exactly who I was. Guards, who, instead of grabbing me and dragging me from the building, flanked me in silent support.
“Do your jobs or I’ll have you fired!” Senior’s face turned purple.
“They are doing their jobs.” I looked at my manicure in boredom. “After all, given I’m Alex Devereaux, you know, great-niece to Edith Devereaux, it means they actually work for me. Not you.”
What happened after that was typical me, and I’d enjoyed every second of it until I’d crawled into bed at my sister’s. It was at night that the emotions of the last several weeks finally caught up with me (Preston and his idiocy not even registering), and I did the unthinkable. I cried.
My sister, the little snitch, ratted my ass out, and the next morning I was pounced on by a furious Ty, Louise, and Cady-Jo (who was well aware I was watching her). I refused to leave, not because I didn’t want to go, but because I couldn’t let them win and dug in my heels.
Ty, the shithead, had been prepared. Without hesitation, he started loading my stuff into his truck. They were under orders to drag me kicking and screaming back to Maplehurst, and Phoebe’s little army took their orders very seriously.
To my credit, I only kicked once and screamed like six times. I thought any more would make me seem difficult.
I’d thought I had it together those first few days here, and then it happened: ladies’ night.
Wine, carb-loaded goodies, and merriment.
Cady-Jo was coming for the first time since I’d…
Well, we weren’t going to talk about that.
When they’d all showed up at Phoebe’s, something about it just set me off.
All of which led me to him.
It had been the streaks of silver in his beard that had lured me in.
When I got closer, I found skin covered in so many tattoos it’d take a week to count them.
The calluses on the hand he wrapped around my arm were so thick it felt just shy of having sandpaper rub my skin.
To my horror, he had to speak in a voice so deep and gravelly it reminded me of one of those low growls a mountain lion makes right before it attacks.
How was I to resist him?
I’d promised myself just a kiss. Just one and then I’d leave him there wanting more.
Man, I was weak. The first swipe of his tongue against mine and I knew I was going home with him.
When those sandpaper mitts got on my bare skin, I’d unraveled.
The ache he created left me a quivering mess on his bed.
One only soothed by the thickest cock I’d ever seen.
I’d nearly orgasmed at the sight of it with the shiny metal ball piercing the underside.
I’d never seen a Prince Albert, but now I knew it should be called a King.
My pussy cramped all the next day from the sheer number of orgasms he and Albert had wrung from my body.
When the light of the next day had filtered in the next morning, I’d left him in my rearview mirror. Of course, I left him a little something to remember me by. Just because I planned on forgetting him didn’t mean I was going to let him forget me.
It had been one night. A mystery man in a bar. Me drowning my sorrows in booze and his body, letting off steam.
It was supposed to be simple.
And it was.
Until I’d sauntered down the aisle, walking Phoebe in her wedding dress to the man I’d deemed worthy enough to marry her. It was simple until I looked at the man standing beside the groom and nearly face-planted in my stilettos.
The ripped jeans and faded T-shirt that lived in every sinful fantasy I’d had since that night were gone. In their place was a perfectly pressed suit covering every inch of male muscle I knew felt good against my skin.
My mystery man seemed no less happy to see me than I was him. And looking back, I really should have seen it earlier.
The doorbell rang, pulling me from my thoughts. Getting up, I pulled my earbuds out, happy to hear things had quieted upstairs.
With the picture I hadn’t let go of since they’d given it to me in my hand, I opened the door and was met with the steely gray eyes that belonged to the man I’d met five weeks ago, my baby daddy and father-in-law to my best friend, none other than Dalton Brockmann.
And boy, did he look pissed.
Thank you for reading Take the Risk.