A promise.
To each other.
“Me neither, sunshine. Me neither.”
THE END.
Epilogue – Blake
Five years later.
“How do I look?”
“Like a DILF,” my wife answers from her spot at the kitchen island. She grins at me and winks, before busying herself with pulling tissue paper out of a gift bag sitting on the marble top.
Laughing gruffly, I cross the space between us until I can band my arms around her waist, burrowing my nose in the familiar scent of her golden blonde hair.
“That mouth of yours is so much trouble, sunshine,” I mutter, breathing her in. It never gets old that she’s mine, all mine.
Forever.
I stroke the wedding band that symbolises our union, tracing the engraved B & C etched on the inner most portion of the ring, which typically rests against my wife’s palm when her fingers are curled.
“This mouth?” She turns in my arms, gazing up at me with a mischievous twinkle in those pretty blue eyes of hers.The ones I’m so lucky to see mirrored back in our three-year-old son, August.
“You weren’t complaining about this mouth last—hmph.”
I capture her lips with mine, moulding my hands to the curve of her hips.
Above us, I can hear the patter of small feet and theclunkof something hitting the floor.
I pull back. “Should we check that?”
My wife licks her kiss bitten lips and shakes her head, carding her slim fingers through my hair at the base of my neck. “He would have screamed if it was something bad.”
Grinning, I slide my hands down to cup her arse. “Have I told you how much I love you in these jeans?”
Calla wrinkles her nose. “Once or twice. But it won’t hurt to hear it again.”
I squeeze her thick flesh, tucking my face into her neck and laving at the fluttering pulse point I find there.
After her pregnancy with August, my beautiful wife has made it no secret that she’s still struggling a little bit with her new body; bigger tits, fuller hips, the now silvery C-section scar beneath the little pooch at the bottom of her stomach, a reminder of how our son was bought into the world.
I know she’s miffed at herself. She’s told me on multiple occasions how she wishes she could love her body and all the things it does for her, all the things it hasalready done, but that she’s not quite there yet.
And that’s okay, I tell her.
I remind her how beautiful she is, how attracted to her I am, with my words, my tongue, my teeth and my hands.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanked off in my morning shower, picturing me painting this arse of yours with my cum. Wanna rub it into your skin. Mark you up.”
Calla hums, tipping her hips up to kiss mine.
Another loud bang sounds from upstairs, making me stop and strain my ears to hear for a yell, but when nothing comes of it, I continue.
“When we get back this afternoon, I’m gonna bend you over the bed, slide inside you and watch your arse bounce back and forth while your sweet little pussy grips me.” I slip a hand around Calla’s front, sliding it between our tightly packed bodies, to cup her the heat at the apex of her thighs.
“Blake…”
