Epilogue
FIONA
I hear the front door open, the stomp of boots on the porch mat, then the soft click of it shutting against the evening chill. My heart does that familiar flip it always does when he’s near.
“Fiona?” His voice is rough from a long day—gravel and smoke and something that still makes my thighs press together.
“In here,” I call, keeping my tone light even though my pulse is already racing.
He steps into the great room, still in his black tactical pants and the long-sleeve thermal that clings to every ridge of muscle.
His hair’s damp from the light rain outside, a few strands falling across his forehead.
When he sees me stretched out by the fire in nothing but one of his old flannel shirts—unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled up, bare legs gleaming in the firelight—his eyes darken to midnight.
“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, voice dropping low. “You trying to kill me?”
I smile slow, wicked, and let the shirt slip off one shoulder. “Just missed you. Come here.”
He’s across the room in three strides, dropping to his knees beside me. His hands are already on me—rough palms sliding up my thighs, pushing the flannel higher until he finds bare skin, no panties, just me slick and ready.
“Dirty little thing,” he growls, fingers dipping between my folds, finding how wet I am. “Been lying here thinking about my cock, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathe, arching into his touch. “All day. Thinking about how you stretch me. How you fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.”
He curses under his breath and yanks the shirt open the rest of the way, buttons popping.
My breasts spill free; he palms one roughly, thumb flicking the nipple while his mouth crashes down on mine.
The kiss is filthy—tongue deep, teeth grazing, tasting like coffee and the mint gum he chews on missions.
I tug at his belt, desperate. “Off. Everything off.”
He stands just long enough to strip—boots kicked aside, pants shoved down, thermal peeled away until he’s gloriously naked, cock thick and heavy, already leaking at the tip. I lick my lips without thinking.
He drops back down, covers me with his body, the heat of him searing against my skin. “Spread those pretty legs, baby. Show me what’s mine.”
I do, thighs falling wide, firelight dancing over every inch of me. He notches himself at my entrance, teases me with the head—rubbing, circling my clit until I’m whimpering, hips lifting.
“Beg,” he orders, voice like gravel. “Tell Daddy how bad you need this fat cock splitting you open.”
“Please,” I whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please fuck me. I need it so bad—need you deep, need you to fill me up, need you to make me come so hard I scream.”
“That’s my good girl.”
He thrusts in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt. I cry out, back bowing off the rug. He doesn’t give me time to adjust—just starts fucking me hard, deep, relentless. The sound of skin slapping skin mixes with the crackle of the fire, with my moans, with his low, filthy praise.
“Look at this tight little cunt taking every inch,” he rasps, watching where we’re joined. “So fucking wet for me. You love getting railed by your man, don’t you? Love being my dirty little slut.”
“Yes—God, yes—” I’m clawing at his back, legs locked around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper. “Harder, Chase—fuck me harder—”
He growls, hooks my knees over his elbows, folding me in half so he can pound even deeper. The new angle hits that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes. I’m shaking, so close already.
“Gonna come,” I gasp. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”
“Come on my cock,” he snarls. “Milk me dry, baby. Squeeze that perfect pussy and come all over Daddy’s dick.”
The orgasm slams into me like a freight train. I scream his name, clenching so hard he curses, thrusts turning erratic. He slams in one last time, burying himself deep, and I feel him pulse—hot, thick spurts filling me until it’s leaking out around his cock.
He collapses over me, both of us panting, slick with sweat.
He stays inside me, softening slowly, kissing me lazy and deep while his hand strokes my hair.
After a long minute he eases out, grabs the throw from the couch, and pulls it over us.
We lie tangled on the rug, fire popping softly, his heartbeat steady under my cheek.
“I love you,” he murmurs against my temple. Simple. Certain. Like it’s the easiest truth he’s ever known.
“I love you too.” I trace the scar on his ribs—the one he got protecting someone else. “I’m staying, Chase. Here. With you. With all of them.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me. “You sure? This life… it’s not easy. Missions. Late nights. Danger.”
“I know.” I cup his jaw. “But it’s important. What you do—what all of you do—matters. Harper, Emma, Kayley… they’re my family now. I’ve never had this before. People who fight for each other. Who show up. I’m not taking you away from that. I want to be part of it.”
His eyes soften, something raw and grateful flickering through them. “You already are.”
I smile, nestling closer. “Besides… I like the view when you come home like this. All sweaty and dangerous and mine.”
He chuckles, low and warm. “Careful. Keep talking like that and we’re going again.”
“Promise?” I tease, already feeling him stir against my thigh.
He rolls us so I’m straddling him, hands settling on my hips. “Every damn day for the rest of our lives, baby.”
I lean down and kiss him slowly, tasting forever on his lips.
Outside, the wind moves through the pines. Inside, the fire burns steady.
We’re safe.
We’re home.