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Something feral and possessive takes over me, and I drop my head, breathing into Willow’s ear, “That’s right, angel. You did so good. Now I need you to be a bad girl and scream my fucking name.”
I pound into her, taking her with almost brutal thrusts, chasing the bliss that I can feel building in my balls.
Her mouth falls open as she cries out my name, arching her back.
“Shit,” I curse, immediately following her over the edge.
I come hard, turning her head to kiss her, muffling the rest of her noises as we fall apart together.
It takes a few long minutes for us to come down, catching our breaths and standing on wobbly legs. I pull out and drag her pants back up, probably soaking her panties with my cum as it leaks from her. Then I fix my own clothes and turn Willow around to kiss her deeply, tasting myself and all the desire on her tongue as I do.
“Fuck, I love you,” I murmur against her lips. “You have no idea.”
“Well, I havesomeidea,” she shoots back, grinning. Then her gaze slides to my motorcycle, mischief lighting in her eyes. “Does this count as christening the bike?”
I laugh, kissing her again. “It’s a damned good start.”
EPILOGUE
WILLOW
Today is the day.
Today, the last piece of Olivia Stanton’s legacy will fall.
It’s been three months since our final showdown with her, and I’ve finally stopped having nightmares about her and Troy—for the most part, at least. It’s getting easier and easier to put that part of my life in the past, with so much good to focus on in the future.
It helps that Olivia is six feet under, and the Copelands are in jail for her murder. That makes it a lot easier for me to sleep at night.
The cops came poking around during their investigation of the Copelands, wanting to ask me questions as their daughter-in-law. We were prepared for that, and the guys coached me through what to say and what not to say, so by the time I had to answer their questions, I was ready.
It was actually pretty simple. I told a curated version of the truth, admitting that I had been married to Troy but also making it clear that my grandmother forced me into it. I told the cops that the Copelands and Olivia disliked each other and competed with each other, feeding into the narrative my men had already created of two nefarious families turning against each other.
My story contained just enough truth to make it believable and verifiable, and the evidence that Vic had planted factored heavily against the Copelands, implicating them strongly in Olivia’s death.
And in her absence, her weakened estate finally collapsed.
Creditors came calling, and there was no one to negotiate with them or manipulate them into backing off. Her businesses were already struggling, and with her gone, they went under entirely. Especially because they were preyed on by Olivia’s so called ‘friends’ who immediately gathered like vultures to pick apart her business interests once it became pretty clear she wasn’t coming back.
Her mansion was repossessed to cover the estate’s debts, and now it’s being torn down.
My men and I all decided to come watch the destruction of the sprawling mansion, and there’s something cathartic about seeing it happen. It feels like putting something to rest.
As I stand between the three of them at the edge of the property, I can’t help but think of all the hopes and dreams I had in that house. How good it felt to finally have a connection to my ‘real’ family, and how I could see a good future ahead of me with Olivia’s help. It felt like I had found my place after so long spent struggling on the outside.
Now I know it was never meant to be my place.
This was never where I belonged.
“Tear the motherfucker down!” Ransom whoops, startling me out of my thoughts. He’s definitely enjoying himself, treating the destruction of the Stanton manor like some kind of spectator sport.
The wrecking ball swings, knocking out one side of the house, and he laughs. “Fuck, yes. Look at that! Clean shot.”
I laugh at his antics, shaking my head at his enthusiasm. I’m glad he’s here with me. Glad theyallare. It’s a reminder of the future that’s waiting for me after I put this last ghost of my past to rest.
Another swing, and there’s the sound of glass shattering as the bright sunroom is taken apart.
“Oh, to be a wrecking ball operator.” Ransom sighs longingly. “I think I missed my calling. I would’ve been great at that shit. And on a day like today, my job satisfaction would be off the fucking charts.”
