Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“I love you too,” she whispers when I’m finished, pressing herself close.
When I lower myself to one knee, tears slide down her cheeks. Her smile is the warmest glow I’ve ever felt. Her smile is heaven.
“Emma Smith, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she yells.
When I slip the ring onto her finger, I know I’m the luckiest man alive.
EPILOGUE
TWO WEEKS LATER
Emma
I sit on top of my man, my fiancé, bouncing up and down on his manhood and not feeling even a little nervous or self-conscious. His body gleams with sweat, his well-defined muscles swelling as I tilt my hips. He’s got his hands on my waist, his fingers greedily sinking into my curviness. I know that drives him wild, and I can feel how wild he’s getting by how much pressure he applies when holding onto me.
Something amazing has happened these past couple of weeks. All the doubts, all the nerves, all the tension are gone. It’s been bliss, like we’re floating into another world of pure perfection.
Leo moans as the bliss of our lives turns into an orgasm, a shared one. The pleasure teases at my core and then spreads outward from his solid dick, his tip touching that sweet spot inside me, both of us rocking together as I get closer and closer. He grunts, and I moan, letting out the euphoria.
The orgasm is even sweeter and hotter because I know what I’m about to tell him. The news makes the release even more intense. I collapse atop him, and he wraps his arms around me, cradling me in the final moments. This is my chance. It’s perfect.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper in his ear.
“You better be,” he replies, holding me tightly. “I can feel it. I know it.”
“No, Leo. Not just talk. I mean, I really am. I did a test this morning.”
He grabs my shoulders and sits us both up, his smile so wide, warm, and filled with love. His blue eye glitters like he’s on the verge of crying, but his brown eye is steady as if holding the mafia side of him, the savage who will always protect our family.
“I love you,” he says, “and I love our baby. I love our lives. I love that the city’s safe. I love that you and Rosa are friends. I love everything all the time.”
He breathes quickly, more exhilarated, happier than I’ve ever seen him. He’s almost like a little boy with how much happiness is bubbling up in him.
“I can’t wait to meet our children.”
“Children?” I say, laughing, so flooded with a warmth I can barely imagine.
“We’ve been so lucky, Emma—finding each other, surviving everything we have, and Rosa’s blessing. Yet I think we have a little luck left. I think we’re going to have twins.”
He leans back, creating enough distance for him to slide his hand across my belly.
“Whoever they are,” he continues, “I’ll always love and protect them. That goes for their mother too.”
He guides his lips to mine, kissing me, taking me back to the first time we kissed when it was all confusion and lust and never knowing if we could be something real. I never have to doubt anymore.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Leo
I bob Rosie and Damien up and down on my knees, cradling their little bodies in my hands. The first time I held them like this, I was stunned by how small they were. Not that the twins are technically small for their age. They’re healthy, happy, and growing every day. Still, they felt so tiny, and my heart beat with such a sense of responsibility, awakening so many more protective impulses inside me.
It’s late. The ceiling dials spin, sending blue spaceships and stars around the room. Emma was asleep when I woke. I kissed her tenderly on the cheek, studying my sleeping wife, with her curly, sweaty, and mom-messy hair across her face. She’s so beautiful in her dedication to motherhood. That doesn’t stop her from being sexy. Her curves are even more tempting now. She gets this flushed, excitable look after breastfeeding that drives me nuts.
I heard our little ones crying on the baby monitor. Since there was some bottled milk, I could tend to them. Damien makes a cooing noise that shatters my heart a little. I can forget about the other half of my life at times like these. I can forget Fyodor’s fellow inmates stabbed him to death in his cell. Apparently, these inmates were paid by some shadowy figure nobody could find. It was necessary, after all he did.
Damien and Rosie will never know that part of life. They’ll never have to worry about the ugliness interfering with them. Whatever and whoever they want to be, we’ll be there—me and their beautiful, perfect mother, the woman I am privileged to call my wife.
“I could watch you all night,” she says.