Epilogue

Sometimes when I’m mad at my husband, I shave my pubes with his razor.

-Text from Naomi to Aspen

Sean

Four years later

“I bought you a cookie.”

I looked over at my wife as she came into the room, and grinned widely at her.

“Thanks baby,” I said, heading toward her for a kiss. “Just set it down, and I’ll get it in a minute.” I held up the blanket. “I need to give this to your kid.”

She laughed and started emptying her pockets. Saline flushes. A tourniquet. Cotton swabs and four by four gauze pads. “My kid?”

I ignored that and walked toward the hallway and stopped at the base of the stairs.

Butterfinger snarled at me.

I snarled back.

“Fuck you.”

“Sean!” Naomi growled in annoyance. “Don’t do that.”

I grumbled under my breath.

“Seriously, this is beyond ridiculous,” I mumbled, being careful to stay out of Butterfinger’s reach so she wouldn’t actually make contact with my feet like she’d done hundreds of times before. “Stupid fuckin’ dog.”

“Daddy,” my daughter, Molly, cried out. “Nice.”

I rolled my eyes and tossed my girl her blanket.

The moment she had it in her possession, Butterfinger got up off the floor, and walked to the stairs to wait for Molly to gather her hugs before heading to bed.

I walked forward and dropped down to my knees, smoothing Molly’s wild curls back from her face. “Now, I want you to promise me that you won’t come out of your room tonight. Mommy is tired, okay?”

And Naomi was tired. She was six weeks pregnant with our second child, and had just gotten off a twenty-four-hour shift where she didn’t catch but four hours of sleep.

Ever since our daughter was born, we no longer went on the same shifts so one of us would always be home with Molly.

It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do, but it worked for us.

Though, it helped that Naomi had drastically cut down her hours so that she was only working part-time. Meaning, I didn’t get to have her two days out of the week instead of four like we had been doing.

Molly tightened her hold on me, and then released my neck to head for her mother. “Goodnight, Mother.”

My almost-three-year-old had an attitude. She also liked her daddy better than her mommy.

Not that Naomi minded…much. The girl was just so much like me that it was hard for us not to be close. I was sure the next kid wouldn’t like me at all since this one tended to always choose me over Naomi.

“Goodnight, daughter,” Naomi chuckled as she shot me a death glare over our child’s shoulder. “Make sure you go potty. I’d hate to have to clean up pee in the morning.”

Molly widened her eyes and shook her head as if to say ‘oh, no she didn’t.’

“I don’t pee on my bed. My bed pees on me,” she snarled in the cutest little cherub voice that had the power to bring me to my knees. “And you, are mean.”

Molly turned on her heel and flounced away, passing me with bared teeth. “Don’t look at me.”

I held up my hands in surrender.

“I…”

“Molly Kate!”

I looked toward the door where my father was coming through, his eyes on my girl as she started up the stairs.

Molly changed directions and started to tumble down the steps in her haste to get to ‘Papa.’ Luckily, Butterfinger was there, blocking her fall before she could even get more than a teeter in.

“Oh, giiiirl,” Dad said as he snatched her off her feet. “I missed you.” Dad’s grin was soft. “Did you read your books?”

“Daddy read,” she nodded. “I just waited for him to finish so I could read.”

Molly wasn’t a reader…yet. She was advanced as fuck, and already as smart as a whip. She had the vocabulary of a fifteen-year-old, and an attitude that could rival any teenager’s.

She was so much like me that it was scary. The spitting image, as my father liked to point out.

“Let’s get in bed, then,” he said as he headed for the stairs.

I waved at my dad as he passed me a humorous look over his shoulder, and headed for the kitchen where I could hear my wife banging around.

“I already did those,” I told her.

She dropped the pan and sighed. “Sorry. They were in the same spot. I just assumed you didn’t hear me.”

I snorted. “You assumed that they were dirty, and that I ignored what you had to say.”

“Well…” she grinned. “That’s you. I say something, and unless it has to do with sex, beer, guns, or your princess, you completely ignore what I have to say.”

I walked up to her and dropped a kiss on her mouth, being sure to rub my beard against her chin once I was finished.

“I listen.”

“You listen,” she agreed. “When you want to.”

I shrugged. “I can’t help it that you won’t speak to me about stuff that I want to listen to.”

She punched me in the chest.

“That was so…so…ugh!”

I grinned and gave her a sound kiss straight to the lips.

She returned the kiss, then pushed away from me and headed for the living room.

“She’s mad at me and you.”

“What for this time?” Naomi yawned, then fell back onto the couch and slumped into it, closing her eyes and snuggling in like she was there for the long haul.

“Don’t forget that we’re having the boys and their wives over today.”

She cracked open one eye.

“I’ll get up and get changed when they get here.”

I snorted, then reached down and hauled her to her feet.

Once she was on her feet, I scooped her up into my arms and carried her to our room, winking at my dad as I passed him on the way.

I placed her down on the bed, and she sighed, staring up at the ceiling fan that we’d picked out together a little over three years ago.

“I love this place.”

I grinned, looking over at the wall plaque that said the same thing that she said every single time she made it to our room and laid down onto our bed.

Emotion stung my throat, and I repositioned myself between her thighs before leaning over her, hands fisted and planted on the bed on either side of her head.

“This place we’ve built, you’ve been with me every step of the way,” I rumbled. “You were with me the day we broke ground. You were with me the day the first wall was put up. The first nail was put into the drywall. The first stroke of paint was put on the wall.” I took a deep breath. “I’m so lucky that I met you.”

Her eyes welled with tears.

“Are you going to say the same thing to me every time I say ‘I love this place’ to you?”

I grinned.

“I feel like it’s a game. Like I have to say it now.”

She started to snicker.

I dropped a kiss to her mouth, and she groaned.

“I’m so horny,” she said boldly. “I’ve been dying to have you inside of me all day.”

I grinned and pushed away from her, walking to the door and slamming it closed before twisting the lock.

“Don’t forget the bathroom door, too,” she said, sitting up and stripping her clothes from her body as she spoke, all signs of exhaustion wiped away from her face.

Then again, that wasn’t very surprising. The woman’s libido was greater than even mine when she was pregnant, and I wasn’t a spring chicken anymore.

But my body didn’t care, happy to oblige her each and every time she raised the flag of need for me to see.

By the time I stripped my pants off, she was already naked and dropping to her knees in front of me.

By the time I had my hand wrapped around her hair, she was already sinking that hot, silky mouth down onto my cock.

“Jesus Christ, Nay,” I groaned.

The woman was a fucking nympho. Always wanting me—my finger and my cock—and I wasn’t inclined to think it was a bad thing, either.

Not when she practically sucked my soul out of my cock every time she did this.

It only took four strokes of her hot little mouth before I was pulling her off.

“On your knees,” I ordered.

The doorbell rang, but I didn’t bother stopping. Not when my woman needed me.

Naomi scrambled to her knees and wiggled her ass, inviting me to take her hard and fast.

That was one thing I didn’t oblige her with all the time. Though she may want hard and fast, I wanted slow and sensual.

And that’s exactly what I gave her.

***

An hour later, I was sitting on the arm of the couch, listening to my club bullshit about missing wedding rings.

“What do you mean you can’t find it?” Fender asked in confusion. “You left it right the fuck there. Your woman’s going to fucking kill you.”

Laughing at the interaction between the men, I clapped Jessie on the shoulder and said, “You’ll never win. Just let it be.”

He winked at me, clearly baiting Fender with his words, and cocked his beer in Fender’s direction. “Fuck off.”

I grinned all the way up the stairs, halting when I saw Naomi sneaking the door of Molly’s room quietly closed.

“She pee?”

Naomi’s laughing eyes came to me.

“She decided to sleep on the floor with a single blanket than risk her precious daddy getting mad at her again,” Naomi pushed the door open for me to see.

I started chuckling.

Our daughter was potty trained…mostly. The only time she wasn’t was at night when she had something to drink about two hours prior to bedtime.

And since I couldn’t fucking resist my girl’s pouty lip, I nearly always gave her the drink despite knowing someone would be doing a shit ton of laundry the next morning.

“That’s you coming out in her,” I said to my wife, pulling her into the curve of my arm.

***

Sean

Ten minutes later, we were standing in the kitchen, and I was again reminded of how much I loved my wife.

“Are you going to eat that cookie?”

I gave Naomi one long look.

“Yes,” I said teasingly, knowing what she wanted. “Why?”

She looked at the cookie longingly, then pursed her lips. “Well, it’s just that you let it sit there for over an hour, and I think that if you really wanted it, you’d have eaten it already.”

I grinned.

“Is that right?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Now is not the time to fuck with me.”

“Pregnant girls get hangry,” Imogen said as she fell backwards on the couch, a plate of chips and dip balancing precariously on the top of her swollen belly. “You should just let her have the cookie. If you had wanted it, you would’ve eaten it the moment she walked in the door with them.”

I didn’t mention the fact that I’d been kept busy since she’d walked into the door with them.

“You can have my cookie,” I told her, knowing I wasn’t going to win this one.

Naomi’s eyes lit.

“Thank God.”

I chuckled as she immediately got up, snatched the cookie box, and proceeded to shove the entire thing into her mouth in less than four bites.

I refrained from whimpering.

It really had sounded good.

“Good, baby?”

“Of course it was good, Son.” Dad butted in. “Or she wouldn’t be making orgasmic sounds in front of your whole club.”

“Your father’s right,” Naomi said around a mouthful of cookie. “It’s really good.”

I caught Naomi’s hand and pulled her into my lap, licking off a stray drop of chocolate that fell into the crease of her mouth.

“Pretty fucking good,” I agreed.

She offered me her finger next, and I sucked it into my mouth.

Her eyes dilated, and I threw my head back and laughed.

“Insatiable.”

“Only for you,” I growled.

“Get a room!” Came from not one, but five of the people in the room.

That was my club. Always Debbie Downers.

“Oh, my God!” Truth came slamming out of the bathroom. “That shitter stool is the best thing since sliced bread!”

“What’s a shitter stool?” Verity questioned her husband.

I groaned and covered my eyes, embarrassment tinging my cheeks with a flush of color.

“The ‘shitter stool’ is more appropriately named the ‘squatty potty’ and Sean can’t poop without it.”

I got up and left, grabbing myself a beer.

I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face, though.

The woman might get on every single nerve I had, and eat my last goddamned cookie, but I loved the absolute shit out of her.

And she knew it, if the smile she gave me as I returned to the room was anything to go by.

“You’re a shithead,” I informed her.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“But I still love you.” I informed her seriously. “Enough to share that cookie that I really wanted, and any in the future that you may want as well.”

Her eyes softened, and she offered me the last tiny sliver of cookie, and I took it.

Her smile was contagious, and I tried really hard to forget that the cookie was amazing.

I’d do anything for her. Give her my cookie. My heart. My soul.

Anything.