NATE
Epilogue
Ainsley’s body continuously bumps against the kitchen counter. With every thrust, the potential for bruising her back becomes bigger and bigger. But she doesn’t complain. She never complains about being covered in bruises or bite marks. She wears them proudly like some sort of badge of honor. And now we never have to worry again for them being mistaken for anything else.
I sink my teeth into the side of her neck. The additional pain frees the orgasm she had been holding back and allows my own to greet it.
A raw, uncontrollable rumble reverberates through our home reminding me how grateful I am we rent a house instead of an apartment. Moving out of the tiny one bedroom right after she graduated was perfect for us. Surprisingly, finding a house to rent close enough for a short commute to Ashwin wasn’t that difficult. We spent the majority of our summer when I was home unpacking and christening every room multiple times. While I denied the job with Miranda Tate for the biopic because it meant I would’ve had to spend Ainsley’s first semester of college traveling the country, she did put me in touch with a company that hired me to edit teaser clips and promotional trailers for their television show, Saved By The Fangz. I’m allowed to work from home, but I have multiple video conferences a week, and have to be willing to travel to the main office when requested. The trade off to work from home rather than uproot our lives was worth it. In my opinion the show’s a little hokey, but it’s somehow weaseled its way under Ainsley’s skin. She loves watching me edit and swooning over the main characters. Her swoons typically end in a swat on the ass and sex on my office couch, which I bought specifically for that reason.
Her ragged breathing finally settles and she brushes her face against mine. “God, I love it when you come home…”
I move my face so our eyes can connect me. “Me too, Kid.”
After a soft kiss, I gently lower her leg back down. She runs her hands down my dress shirt covered chest. “As much as I wanna go again, I have to get ready for work.”
My grunt is unmistakable. I hate that she still works at the damn pub. When we moved I swore she’d give it up and just be a full time student. I told her repeatedly I had more than enough money to take care of us both, but she refused. Claims she needs some independence. We’ve argued more times than I care to admit about that. Well and about the car I bought her so she could stop riding the bus and drive herself to class. It’s not that I don’t think she can fend for herself, I just don’t want her feeling like she has to anymore. She says she doesn’t. She says she hasn’t felt like that since the day we packed her shit out of her mother’s place and into mine. That was the last time they spoke. Her piece of shit mother didn’t even show up to her graduation. The look on everyone’s face when I did along with Wyatt, Pax, and Holden was priceless. In spite of Josh’s whining, Wilson didn’t bother to say anything since neither of us were his problem any longer. I had ‘resigned’ and she was no longer a student. He saw no reason to intervene. Plus the accusations, Josh falsely made warranted other members of the staff to worry and complain a few policies needed to be rewritten. Wyatt treated all of us and Sloane and Scott to lunch that day. The two of them left for Clover Rose together at the end of the summer. Ainsley and her still text frequently and I admit I’m relieved she still has someone else she can rely on.
“You want me to bring you something back tonight?” She asks, slipping out of my grasp.
“No. I promised my mom I’d have dinner with them. She’s been dying to try some Italian restaurant.”
My father eventually told my mother, but like Holden said she already knew. She had just been looking the other way. He had suddenly been getting sloppy about it and she didn’t appreciate it. She promised him she would return to looking the other way if he made more of an effort to take her out like he used to. As much as I hate it, it’s not my marriage. It’s theirs. If it’s what works for them, if it’s what they wanna go through, then that’s on them. The three of us managed to address the issue and put it to rest almost instantly. They requested we never discuss it and I requested he never sleeps with my girlfriend’s mother again. My father insisted that went without having to be said. I finally took Ainsley over for dinner during the summer. Neither of them judged her on her age or the fact we met while I had been teaching. I guess me knowing their dirty little secret prevented them from judging me about my own. They both think Ainsley’s sweet and appreciate her igniting a drive back inside of me. I don’t take her every time we meet for dinner, but she’s always welcomed.
“Oooo, Italian,” Ainsley coos, her footsteps slowing down. “Will you bring me back pasta?”
I smirk. “Willing to beg for it?”
“I’ll beg for something else.”
The implication encourages my spent cock to swell.
“I get off late and have an early class tomorrow, but I promise if you bring me home dinner, I’ll let you bend me over your desk and give me the spanking I deserve…”
An image of her hands pressed firmly against my office desk with her ass popped out for me fills my head. I give my cock a minor stroke to soothe the ache. “Deserve for what?”
Ainsley offers me a wicked look. “I’m sure you’ll think of something…Teach.”
With a playful wink, she spins around, and saunters back towards our bedroom, my sweatshirt barely covering the ass I love so much.
I hide a chuckle and attempt to tuck myself back into my suit pants.
Funny thing about real life is, you don’t get to edit it the same way you do a film. You don’t get to shoot a retake or have a mistake erased. You have to face the poor directions it sometimes takes and find a way to make the unexpected blips work. The camera never stops rolling and the angles never stop changing. But I’ve finally come to appreciate this. Life is one long film you get to choose to enjoy or choose to critique, until those credits roll. If you learn to appreciate more and complain less, than you’ve made a masterpiece you should be proud of at the end of it all. At least that’s how I feel. At least that’s how I view it through my lens.