Joe slides his hand between her legs again, and I see her body rise into another orgasm—and that’s what it looks like, quite literally, her back arching, her belly filling, her chest rising as though it’s filling every part of her. She draws back from Dylan to catch her breath, and with a shudder, drops back on top of Joe, sinking into his arms as he holds her close and guides her through her orgasm. His lips brush along her ear, her body shivering for a moment on top of his as she comes.
And that takes me over the edge, the sight of her giving in to this pleasure. My cock throbs in my hand as I overflow with my seed, squeezing myself tight as I stroke myself to the sight of my own personal porn star—or at least, that’s what it feels like to me.
In the rush of my own release, it takes me a moment to realize that Joe has finished inside her, and Dylan has come too, with her hand around his cock, and now he’s slumped back in the chair and breathing hard. Angelie is still collapsed against Joe, her back on his chest, her eyes half-closed as she loses herself to a blissed-out smile.
I watch her in her post-orgasmic glow, and I know that this is where I belong. Where we all belong. Here, with her, in any way we can have her, any way she wants us.
And I’m not willing to settle for less. Not ever again.
Not as long as I live.
EPILOGUE
CARLISLE
“Alright, is that everyone?”Angelie asks, as she perches at the bottom of the stairs, having just helped Chuck with his shoes. The toddlers look around, each of them carefully dressed in their summer clothes and walking shoes. I look down at them and I can’t help but grin, seeing them all like that. They’re just too damn cute.
“I think so,” I reply, and I check the map once more to make sure the trail is going to lead us down to the river. “Ready to go?”
“As I’ll ever be,” she remarks, laughing as she straightens up again. “Okay, everyone, follow Carlisle, alright? And make sure you’re holding hands so you don’t get separated.”
She fusses over the toddlers until they’re out the door, but the moment the warm sunshine hits, something seems to uncoil in her, and she lets out a sigh of relief.
“God, it’s beautiful out here,” she murmurs as we stride out toward the path. I offer her an arm, making sure she can traverse the slightly uneven terrain with ease.
“Hey, careful,” I warn her, and she raises her eyebrows at me as the toddlers fall behind us.
“You know, just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean that I’m more of a fall risk than normal—” she begins to protest, but then her foot skitters out from underneath her, and she grips hold of my arm tightly, letting out a short shriek. I don’t have to say anything—I know she can tell from the hard look I’m giving her just what I’m trying to say.
“Okay, okay, point taken,” she laughs. “I’ll be careful. And keep hold of your arm. Hey, Chrissie, don’t go so far ahead, okay? Let Carlisle show us where to go.”
Chrissie falls back in line with us, pulling a face as though it’s the biggest affront in the world. Now that I’m beginning to spend more time with the kids, I’m starting to see the ins and outs of their personalities with a little more clarity—when they’re bold or shy, the intelligence they already possess, the ways they still stand to grow a little more. For how much they have in common, having come from the same parents, they’re all so different, with their distinct personalities and interests and abilities. And that isn’t even counting the fifth child I haven’t had a chance to meet yet.
These weekend hikes have become something of a tradition over the last month or so of the summer. Angelie insisted that I take some time away from construction, even though we’re just starting to close the gap on the last few days of work. The others come down on their own time, Joe for dinner on Wednesdays, Callum and Dylan to take the kids out for ice cream on Fridays, and on Sundays, I take them to explore the woods behind their house. Given that they’re not going to be living here much longer, I want to take every chance I have to show them more of this place. To let them adventure the way they should as kids,when the world feels so enormous and like it stretches on for a lifetime around them.
The forest is already starting to right itself after the fires a few months ago. There are still some charred branches and blackened leaves, but it’s nothing like the state it was in when we first came down. I’m amazed at how quickly the world seems to be able to right itself here, like it was just waiting for a chance to bloom fresh when it got the chance.
“I’m going to miss having this place just around the corner when we move,” Angelie says, a little wistfully, when we reach the edge of the river. It’s still low from the recent heat wave, and the kids can paddle in it without much danger, especially with both of us keeping watch over them. Angelie sinks down into the soft earth, and I move in behind her, planting a hand behind her back for her to lean against.
“You’ll be able to come back here all the time,” I point out. “Not like we’re going to be far.”
“That is if it doesn’t burst into flames again like it did before,” she remarks, raising her eyebrows at me.
I groan. “Don’t even make me think about that,” I protest, rubbing a hand over my face. “We need to do everything we can to keep this place safe. That bonfire they have at the end of summer?—”
“You’re never going to convince people to drop that,” she replies, shaking her head. “Besides, you really want to drop a piece of our history like that?” Her teeth rest playfully on her bottom lip as she gazes at me, and I lean in, dropping a kiss on her cheek, unable to resist.
“Point taken,” I concede. “But we still need to teach people how to be safer around here. How to handle it if something does go wrong…”
I look down into the creek, where the children are playing—splashing water at each other, fishing out rocks polished by the flow, placing sticks on the trickle to watch them drift further down the river. I feel a sudden swell of protectiveness, one that almost overwhelms me.
“You know, we should do more to educate the people in Devin Ridge,” I remark. “About fire safety, I mean.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” I reply, shooting her a look out of the corner of my eye. “Starting with your parents, to be exact.”
She chuckles. “Okay, yeah, fair enough,” she agrees. “And I guess it would give you guys something to do again, right? When the school’s all finished and the house is built.”
