Epilogue
It Wasn’t A Time Machine, But It Was Close
Lindsay
Anniversaries were a silly thing.
Lovers celebrate how long it has been since the first day they met, they measure the span of days since their first date, and they count the period of time since they wed.
For James and I, those markers were all the same.
It was our sixth month anniversary.
With winter still clinging in the air, I turned the fireplaces on and looked around at the space James and I had redone to make it ours.
Gone were the large black sofas and the masculinity of the stark gray walls, replaced with softer fabrics and lighter colors.
It felt so much like home.
Our home.
He’d given me my anniversary gift last night when he took me out to dinner. I guess he couldn’t wait. It was a brilliant diamond that sparkled endlessly. I stared down at it, and felt the twinge of my heart beating even faster. Just the mere of thought of him did that to me.
For a man who had the world at his feet, there wasn’t much I could give him that he didn’t already have, but what I had come up with was something I knew he would really want—me, naked, at his feet.
James had called about twenty minutes before, and when I knew he’d be home on time, I got to work building my own time machine.
Frank Sinatra played throughout the room and I’d made a pitcher of martinis that I set on the glass table near the door. Beside it sat the Ashton family photo, which included me. I wouldn’t say his mother welcomed me with open arms, but she did accept me in James life, and that was all that mattered.
One last glance in the mirror assured me that I looked like I’d just rocketed from the fifties. Pearls hung around my neck and pierced my ears, I’d styled my hair like Marilyn Monroe, and wore a pair of old-fashioned high heels.
Ready to give him his gift, I dropped my robe and stood naked. I smiled at myself. He was going to love this. I wrapped the mink stole I’d bought at a vintage shop around me, poured a martini, and then with the glass in my hand, I stepped down into the living room to wait.
I positioned myself in a chair, but when I heard the jingle of keys, I decided to move to the couch. I sat with my back to the armrest and crossed my ankles. At the last minute, I decided to do something even more daring. I slipped to my knees on the sheepskin rug in front of the sofa and put my hands behind my back.
When the door opened, I sucked in a breath. I was really doing this. James strode in like he always did, dropping his keys on the table where I’d set the shaker of martinis. Then his head jerked in my direction. The minute our gazes connected, I knew I’d made the right choice.
A wickedly charming smile curved his lips. “Well, hello,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“It’s our anniversary,” I said, as I stood and twirled, “and I’m your present.”
His briefcase hit the floor in a thump and then he stalked toward me unbuttoning his suit jacket and tossing it wherever it landed.
I picked up the glass and held it out for him, “How was your day, darling?” I asked.
He took the martini, and while sipping it, his pupils flared with raw hunger. “Much better now,” he said over the rim.
I stepped closer and unzipped his pants, shoving them down quickly so I could free his erection that was most definitely trapped in his boxers. “I missed you today,” I purred. “and I thought I’d show you just how much.”
His gaze smoldered as he watched me. “Jesus, baby, this is my fantasy.”
Kicking my shoes off, I dropped to my knees. He’d said he wanted me barefoot and naked, after all. “Oh, darling, I know. I’ve been making mental notes of them all. And tonight, I intend to gift you with every single one,” I told him, looking up into his eyes.
These weren’t the day to day things we had navigated through as a couple. His need for control. My willingness to give it to him. Those had been mastered.
These were different. They were a list of sexual fantasies that was quite long, then again so was the night.
James
Where had this woman come from?
I still couldn’t believe she was mine. The start had been rough, but we had worked hard to get to where we were. What we had was something I cherished—love, passion, respect, and admiration.
I looked down at my wife.
She flicked out her tongue and licked her lips.
“You drive me crazy,” I breathed.
“Good,” she said licking her lips once again.
Oh fuck, this was really happening. And so I let the fantasy begin. I took my straining erection in my hand and jutted it forward. “Suck it,” I growled.
I hissed in reaction to the light flicks of her tongue, and then I took another sip of my martini as she did as she was told.
The dutiful wife.
It would be one night of her submitting to my every whim, but it would be a lifetime of love. I’d come to learn that marriage wasn’t endless pussy. It was love, affection, respect, and hard work, and that endless pussy was just a bene. A great bene at that.
I slid my free hand in her hair and leaned into her. Fuck, but no one ever made me feel the way she did.
As I sank deeper into her luscious mouth, ready to do all kinds of dirty things to her, I couldn’t help but remember the first time I saw her. Right then I had to have her. She’d walked into that club and my whole world changed. Somehow I knew she belonged with me, before I even knew her.
And the hell of it was…
I wasn’t wrong.