Epilogue
Ana
“I have climbed the outsides of seven-story buildings. Parachuted into rain forests. Taken on six assailants with my bare hands and won,” he whispered to a deeply amused Ana over the baby’s head. “None of that prepared me for this.”
He pointed to Paolo, then touched his back.
“My back is killing me,” he grumbled.
“The sling makes him fall asleep.”
“Shhhh,” he said as softly as possible, Paolo’s little eyelids losing their fight with gravity. Watching her big, strapping partner sway with her son’s breath made her smile even more, a hopeful lightness filling her chest.
Colic turned out to be the bane of their existence.
Dennis’s cottage was adorable and quiet, so silent compared to her condo in Newburyport. For the last two months, since Paolo had come home from the hospital and they’d settled in, Dennis had come to her.
This was their first foray north, and other than a two-hour car ride filled with fifteen minutes of full-throated screaming at the end, it had been fine.
Frustrating, but fine.
Because Paolo wouldn’t sleep.
And if he didn’t sleep, Dennis and Ana had no time alone. Time they desperately needed, with an emphasis on the frustrated part.
The horny, frustrated part.
At this point, she’d settle for a quickie against a wall, which was how they’d had sex the last time, back at her place. Being physically intimate had proven to be a journey through rough terrain as she healed from her surgery and juggled a colicky NICU baby.
Now, as her little boy developed chubby thighs, and Dennis soothed him to sleep, she began to see a smoother road ahead.
A smoother, hopefully orgasmic road.
Dennis’s hand went in the air, waving at her, then pointing to the portable crib in the corner of his living room. She nodded with an enthusiastic thumbs’ up, her body going warm and wet on the spot.
It was happening.
They were finally – finally! – about to have a nice, long time for sex.
Baby nap gods be willing.
Recovering from the emergency c-section and losing so much blood had been harder than expected, and Ana still wasn’t back to her full functioning self.
Dennis split his time between working with his father and in Newburyport, sleeping over at her place three nights a week.
Brie took one night and her mother took three during those first two months, but now she had the baby on more of a schedule, breastfeeding was going fine, and she needed less help.
But not less of Dennis.
Dennis’s cottage was adorable, if rough.
He’d shown it to her in plenty of Facetime videos, but this was the first time she’d been in it.
The kitchen was lovely, renovated with lumber from the trees on site, with all-new appliances.
All of the walls in the second bedroom were torn down to stubs, and the bathroom shower didn’t work, so he’d been using his parents’ bathroom as he remodeled.
The bones were there. Strong, good bones. Once he was done with the work, it was going to be beautiful.
And now there was talk of adding an addition.
Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she poured a small coffee for herself, cooling it with a splash of milk, drinking it faster than she did before having a baby. Everything had to be done quickly, while she had a chance.
Including sex.
Babies were sneaky that way. Just when you thought they were down for a nice, hour-long nap, they tricked you and woke up, instantly destroying your plans.
Movement caught her eye and she turned to see her big, muscular boyfriend coming out of the living room, arms raised in victory, big biceps bulging with triumph as he shook his fists high. Grinning madly, he swooped in for a kiss as she swallowed fast.
“I have defeated the colic. The sexfest can commence.”
“Last time we tried, he woke up within seven minutes.”
“It’s been so long I only need three.” He began kissing her neck, hands cupping her breasts, pushing against her with a knee between her legs.
“Three?”
“Two if you stop looking at me like that. So judgey.” His hand went between her legs, her pulse migrating to where his fingertips played.
“Dennis.”
“I want you so much.”
“Dennis.”
“Mmm?”
She plucked the infant carrier still strapped around his midsection. “This is not sexy.”
“What if I use it to tie you up?”
She gave him a hard stare.
“I doubt,” he said as he unclicked the various fasteners and tossed it onto a kitchen chair, “the next Magic Mike movie includes that in one of their dance routines.”
Before she could reply, his mouth was on hers and he was leaning her back on the dining table, a long farmhouse slab of wood with an unfinished edge, gorgeous in its natural state.
And perfect for a little mid-afternoon delight.
He unbuckled his belt, unzipped himself and she pulled off her panties, thrilled to be wearing a skirt. It only took a few seconds but he was in her, her legs wrapped around him, the gentle but obvious tug of her c-section scar not so much painful as reminding her it existed.
“Oh, you’re so warm. So wet. So good,” he groaned against her neck, each thrust making her orgasm grow, the need to have him in her almost feral.
Only in the last few weeks had her body began to resemble anything she could call “normal” for her, and her sex drive had decided to roar back just this week.
Her fingers dug into his back, gripping hard, as he thrust again and her head hit something on the dining table. Not caring, she pushed back against him, shifting the angle slightly so that oh–
“Oh! Oh!” she cried out as he groaned her name, pushing hard inside her until her head hit the thing again and –
CRASH!
“No!” he hissed, hard and fierce, looking over her head. “Sugar bowl! Broken.”
“Keep going!” she hissed back, but it was too late.
“WAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
His hips moved one more time inside her, but she was already struggling to sit up, nipples tingling, and not from the sex.
“Damn,” he grunted as he pulled out. “So close.”
She stood, straightening her skirt, as a sudden rap on the door made them both leap out of their skin.
“Denny? Ana? You okay? I heard something crash in there.”
His mom.
Dennis closed his eyes and looked like he was expending every ounce of energy to avoid committing murder.
“You get the door. I’ll get the baby.”
“I’ll carry my blue balls out to the wood shed in a sac,” he muttered.
“Just think of it as edging,” she whispered, giving his ass a love pat.
“That does not help,” he replied through gritted teeth.
“I’ll get Paolo back to sleep and you get Deanna to leave.”
“One of those is easier than the other,” he said in a resigned tone that told Ana her job was going to be the simpler one.
As she reached the port-a-crib and picked up a red-faced Paolo, reaching under her shirt to help him latch on, Dennis opened the door to his mother.
And Ana realized this was it.
This was life.
And it was more than she ever could have dreamed of.
THE END