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Then Damon kisses me again, straddling my lap. “Red and Quin went to Savage’s house,” he whispers as he kisses down my neck. “They wanted to give us some alone time.”
Flipping him onto his back, I gather his hands in mine and put them over his head. “Then let’s not waste time.”
I make love to Damon slowly, taking my time and getting to know his body. I savor him, even though I know I have days and months and years to do that.
I have forever.
Epilogue
Damon- One Year Later
“Please,”Ibeg,moaninginto the pillow in front of me. My ass is propped in the air and Michael is behind me, fucking me slow.
“Please, what baby?” Michael asks, his hand on my waist tight and unyielding, his hips plowing into me.
“Augh, fuck. Fuck … fuck.”
“This what you’re begging for?” His strokes speed up and I nod, holding on to the sheets for dear life. “Tell me.”
I lift my head, moaning as I try to get my thoughts together. “Fuck … me … harder.”
Michael growls and picks up the pace, his hips swinging, pounding me hard. I reach down and stroke my dick, my hand moving fast.
“That’s right, baby,” Michael grunts, pushing inside me and hitting my prostate. “Fuck, you feel fucking good. Your ass is so tight.” He slaps my ass, making me yelp. “Like that?” he asks and I nod, prompting him to do it again.
The fiery slap sends me over the edge and I come hard, covering my hand and the bed under me with my spunk.
“Fuck, Damon.” Michael thrusts in and out of me quickly, pushing me down to the bed, making me lie in my own mess. I couldn’t care less.
Putting pressure on my lower back, Michael fucks me harder and faster, making me moan loudly as he pounds my over sensitive prostate. I’ve come to love orgasming before Michael. I love when he strokes my oversensitive prostate, so I can feel this fine edge of pleasure and pain.
Just when I think I can’t take anymore, Michael groans, his hips start to stutter, then he stills, emptying inside me.
He slumps over my back, breathing heavily in my ear. I smile, loving the feeling of his heavy weight on me. Pulling out, Michael rolls off me, then drags me into his arms.
Peering up at him, I grin. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” he whispers. “Happy birthday.”
“Never had birthday sex before.”
Michael smiles, kissing my forehead. “Count on it twice a year. For yours and mine.” I chuckle, which turns into a groan when Michael slides his fingers inside me, pushing his come back in.. “Or everyday can be your birthday if you want.” He kisses my neck and I writhe against him, never getting tired of being with him like this.
This year has been the best of my life. Michael and I stayed with Quin and Red, though he’s asked me more than once if I wanted to move. Mainly because I stayed with three men before and didn’t have a good experience. But I always tell him no. James, Conrad, and Fallon weren’t my family. They didn’t treat me well and they didn’t want me there.
The opposite is true here. Michael, Red, and Quin love me. They enjoy having me around. They treat me like a person. There’s no way I’m giving that up.
I figured it would take me some time to get adjusted to Canada, with a bit of a culture shock for good measure, but I didn’t feel that at all. Everyone has been polite and kind to me, very welcoming when I tell them I’m American. Of course, the first question they ask is how I’m liking the country, looking a little smug when I say I love it and have no intentions of returning to the States. If only they knew the real reason.
The cops called a few times, saying they have no new leads in the case of my stepfamily, but I don’t think they’re in a big hurry to solve it now. Someone sent in an anonymous recording of James, Fallon, and Conrad talking about the attack on Brent. Brent won his senatorial race by a landslide because of his social justice platform and the cops aren’t too keen on finding the killers of the men who attempted to murder him. The case is now cold and I will not call for updates or to reopen the investigation.
I’m glad Michael gave me the idea to send in the recording and Quin was able to make sure it was untraceable.
About six months ago, the sale of the house was finalized and I was able to cut the final ties I had in California. Mr. Marks gave me the name of an accountant in California for my stocks, but Quin found a good stockbroker here who conducts her business ethically. After the transfer of my assets, I told Mr. Marks I enjoyed working with him, but no longer needed his services. He wished me well and that was it. We were done.
Now, I’m a Canadian citizen, Quin doing whatever it is he does to have the process rushed, and I couldn’t be happier. Abel and I have gone into business together, doing some freelance teaching and development services. Well, I teach, Abel does the development part, usually small projects alone and we tackle larger ones together. It’s been great.
I grab Michael’s hand—though my hard, straining dick protests—and pull it out of me. “Stop before we stay in bed all day.”
