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EPILOGUE
SAMUEL
Christmas Day
“Come on, dirty girl, fuck me harder.”
Avery braces her hands on my chest and bounces up and down on my dick. It’s the most exquisite hurt I’ve ever felt because I want to come so badly, yet I’m holding back. As cliché as it sounds, I want to explode while the powder keg inside of her blows.
“Oh yes, Daddy,” she moans, throwing her head back and thrusting her tits forward.
I reach up and tug hard on her nipples. She bites down on her lip and grinds down on my cock, rocking back and forth, back and forth, increasing her pace as she inches closer and closer to her climax.
“I’m going to come,” she breathes out.
I release her nipples and grip her hips tightly, thrusting up into her.
“Do it,” I command because I can’t wait a moment longer.
I brush my thumb over her clit to help her along. She whimpers from the contact, and I feel the first contraction of her pussy around my cock.
Game over. I erupt just as she screams through her release. I pulse inside her, spilling every drop until I relax against the bed with a sigh.
Best Christmas ever. And I haven’t even given Avery her gift yet.
She sighs happily, a content smile on her pink lips as she falls against my chest.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” she murmurs.
My fingers run up and down her bare spine. “Merry Christmas, Avery.” I let her enjoy this moment of cuddling before extracting myself from her. “Let’s get cleaned up so I can give you your present.”
Her head pops up. “Oh. I didn’t get you anything.”
I brush a piece of hair away from her face. “You’re all I need, Avery.”
What I really want to tell her is that her pussy is fucking magical, and it’s like the gift that keeps on giving but…it’s Christmas and I don’t want to spoil the goodwill and peace on Earth.
Somehow, we shower without fucking each other, and once we’re dried off and dressed, I search inside my luggage for the black gift bag.
“What’s this?” she asks as I hand it to her.
“Open it and find out.”
I’m nervous as she pulls out the first box. Everything was made just for her, and if she doesn’t like it, it’ll almost be like a rejection.
She lifts the lid and grasps the choker between her fingers. She lifts it to inspect it, and suddenly, I’m impatient.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful, Samuel. What is it?”
“A collar,” I state.
There’s a thick bar of gold engraved with the words “Property of Dr. S. Jacobs” attached to a thin rope chain. I take it from her and fasten it around her neck. The bar settles just at the base of her throat.
“I told you I don’t do marriage, but I am committed to you, Avery. There will be no one else but you until I die.”
“Samuel,” she whispers, her fingers reaching up to brush against the necklace.
