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EPILOGUE
Joanie
Eighteen months later …
“Elita, be good,” I admonished gently. “Be good and eat your cake with a fork.”
But did my little girl listen? Of course not. The blonde cherub grasped greedily with one hand, stuffing cupcake into her mouth.
“Mama!” she chortled gleefully. “Mama!”
The billionaires and I shared a knowing glance. Elita calls everything and everyone Mama. It could be a footstool, the doorman or one of her dads. She would still call them Mama.
But Tom came up behind me then, pressing two hands on my waist.
“Sweetheart, this is Elita’s birthday party, but you wanna come to the back with us? Because we got you a present too. For being such a good mother,” he rumbled into my ear, discreetly so that only I could hear.
My cheeks blushed. Looking around, I surveyed the shindig. There were kids and guests everywhere, presents scattered on the floor with dozens of balloons floating.
“Are you sure?” I whispered. “It’s the middle of Elita’s birthday! People will notice.”
But the alphas won’t take no for an answer, and Andrew was already leading me by one hand.
“Sweetheart, it’ll just take a sec,” he soothed. “We have your gift in the back bedroom, come on.”
I gasped, tripping along behind him.
“Okay, but it’s gotta be quick,” I whispered. “Really fast, we have guests.”
“Of course,” tossed off Damien nonchalantly. “Just two minutes, sweetheart, two minutes.”
And in no time, we were ensconced in the back bedroom, the sound of the party dim and muffled. Because the billionaires bought me an apartment of my own in Manhattan, a luxury pad high in the sky. So Elita and I live together in this eight bedroom spread, even though there’s only two of us.
But it works. Because the alphas fly in whenever they can, staying in one of the spares when they’re in town. And honestly, it’s better this way. Usually, only two or three of them are in New York at any one time, so I service two or three at once. Sometimes, I rotate between their bedrooms, having hot one-on-one encounters. But sometimes, I do two or three simultaneously, and oh god, it feels so good to be plugged up tight.
But for Elita’s birthday, all six of them were here in Manhattan. And evidently, they had a gift for me in addition to the birthday girl.
“What is it?” I asked tremulously, looking from one big form to another. “What is it?”
Slowly, Charlie came in balancing something in his arms carefully. But it wasn’t a cake. It wasn’t jewelry or clothing or any of the usual suspects. Instead, it was a giant dildo mounted on a mirror. I gasped.
“Wha--?” flamed my cheeks. “What is that?”
The billionaires laughed.
“What does it look like sweetheart? What do you think it is?”
“It-it’s a dildo,” I stammered. “But why the mirror? What is this?”
Charlie placed it ceremoniously on the floor. And suddenly, it all became clear. I was to ride the dildo, and the men standing around would have a perfect view of my pussy via the reflection. They’d see everything, from the moisture slipping form my folds to my soft labia spreading as I fucked my cunt down.
“Oh god!” I whispered, eyes wide. “But we can’t! There’s a party going on outside!”
Unfortunately, alphas don’t take no for an answer.
“Exactly sweetheart,” rasped Aaron. “That’s what’s gonna make this even better. Knowing there are people outside as you get fucked.”
“Plus, don’t worry about the time,” growled Charlie, eyes intense. “You only have to take one dick honey, not six. So actually, there’s plenty of time.”
