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“Yep.” She pops her P the same way Vee does, and I smile.
“I think that calls for celebration.” I bring my hands back to her clothes, and the rest of the world fades away as we lose ourselves in each other. As I slide into her welcoming pussy, kiss those plump lips, taste her delicious cunt.
There is nothing else and never will be.
“Vas?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I know. I’ve felt it for a long time, my witch.”
“Good,” she exhales in sweat relief and settles in my arms.
We danced around each other for years, always feeling that unbreakable connection between us. We played silly games of hate and indifference until one day, it all changed, and we stopped pretending to hate.
Because we only hated how much we love each other.
And now she isn’t only my boss. She is the mother of our daughter and the love of my life. The missing piece to my broken heart.
Epilogue
Song: Hurts – Wings
Kira
“Vas, get up!”
“No. I’m physically incapable of that.”
“I wonder why,” I muse to myself.
“Because you kept waking me up every hour to have me fuck your little pussy with my giant, perfect cock,” he answers sleepily, and a loudthudsounds as my pillow connects with his head, and he groans. “Why are you always so vicious in the mornings?”
“Ikept wakingyouup? Or maybe it was that giant, perfect cock of yours sliding inside me as soon as he got hard again?”
“Not my fault your pussy was sending him secret signals.”
“You are impossible you know that?” I sigh and shake my head just as he tackles me back to the bed, pinning my arms on either side of my head and crushing his lips to mine.
“And you love me for it, wife.” I can’t help the immediate smile that shows up at his words, and my ring finger tingles with excitement. The one where his ring—a platinum band with a black diamond in a heart shape—sits. He really couldn’t havepicked anything better. And my wedding band is a thin ring covered in tiny black diamonds to complement the other one.
“That I do, husband. That I do and very much.”
Vassar proposed to me the morning after we got Flounder, and we decided not to wait for too long because we really didn’t want to, and his mom was getting progressively worse, and we wanted her to be there for our wedding.
I will never forget the morning I met her. The sincere smile she wore even though it was painful for her. The kind, loving words. Her shaky embrace and welcome to the family.
She passed away two weeks later, and Vassar and Sophie were crushed, but she left a journal where she wrote:I will say hello to your father and remind him what amazing kids we have. Please remember, everything happens for a reason…
I didn’t understand it fully when Vassar said that to me for the first time, but now, I do. Now, as I get ready for our daughter’s Christmas play, I get it because, without all that pain, I would never have found them. I would’ve never found my family.
I would’ve never found myself sewing a mermaid snowflake costume during the nights for a whole week because that is what my daughter wanted to be for that play, and nothing would stop me from giving her anything she wanted.
Well, maybe her father would. He constantly vetoes our ideas, calling us insane.
There is nothing insane about buying another teacup Pomeranian because Flounder needs a Sebastian. Or deciding I won’t be there for dinner services anymore because my daughter wants me to read her a bedtime story. Or naming my new restaurant after my daughter—he didn’t hate that one, though.
