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Epilogue
Harley
Eight years later.
I end the call with the caterer, pleased that Scott’s retirement party is on track. I still can’t believe he hasn’t accepted any of the coaching offers that have been rolling in from pro teams all over the country. But he wants to stay put for a while, especially now that our oldest, Jack, is about to start school. Our son is like me, interested in ancient stories, but he’s shy and we’re worried about him changing schools if Scott changes teams.
This new freedom will also give Scott more time to spend on the local rink with our four-year-old, Jenna, who can’t get enough of the ice and is proving to be a natural. I think she’ll give up her mini hockey stick for sparkly skater skirts eventually, but whichever way she goes, we support her.
And it’s not like we need the money. Scott has had a great, winning run, and we’ve been investing part of his salary ever since he signed with his first team. I earn a nice amount curating the new medieval wing of our local museum, and I’m just as glad to settle in for a while as he is.
While I wait for him to come home from one of his final practices, I head upstairs to look over my wardrobe. Scott has promised that as soon as he is officially off the roster, we’re going to travel. We’re touring Southern Europe before dipping down into Egypt, then onto a cruise back up the Mediterranean. That is, if we can stay away from the kids that long. They won’t miss us at all, splitting the time with Scott’s parents and mine.
Shockingly, my dad has stepped up over the past few years, making up for most of the hurt he caused. I have a feeling my angel husband had something to do with it, but Dad is an amazing grandpa, and has been a great addition to our family.
As I’m leaning over my shoes to search for my favorite sandals, my angel husband somewhat devilishly grabs me from behind and pulls me close.
I squeak with surprise to see him home so early since I had planned to swing by the rink after I picked up the kids from daycare.
“Did you miss me?”
He always asks that after a long practice, and yes, I always do. I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his muscular chest. When I look up, his blue eyes sparkle down at me.
“Are you going to miss it?” I ask. He’s in the best shape of his life and could easily play for at least another two years. He’s been putting me first for eight years and I worry he thinks I haven’t noticed.
“Not even a little,” he says without hesitation, rubbing his back. “These old bones will be glad not to get knocked around anymore.”
I lean against him, laughing at his false assessment of himself. “You’re anything but old,” I purr, sliding my hand down the front of his sweats to feel the thick bulge trying to burst free.
“Mmm,” he sighs as I grip him. “That particular old bone likes what you’re doing.”
I crack up and glance at the clock on the mantel. “We have forty-three minutes until I have to pick up the kids. What are you going to do with it?”
He chuckles, already lifting me up to set me on the dresser inside my enormous closet. “You’ve seen what I can do to get in under the buzzer,” he says, spreading my legs and dipping between them.
Pushing my flowing skirt up my thighs, he nuzzles me through my panties, which are already soaked from knowing what he can do to me.
“Show me now,” I say, letting my eyes drift shut.
He pushes my panties aside. “I can make you come in forty-three seconds just by doing this.” His thumb brushes over my swollen nub and he growls when I arch into his touch. “I know you love it when I tease your clit.”
“Mmmhmm,” I agree, getting lost in pure sensation. “And I know how much you love to lick my pussy. You’ll cave.”
I think he might be serious when he increases his pressure, sliding his magic fingers up and down my slit. Then he swears and buries his face between my thighs, forcing them farther apart as he plunges his tongue deep inside me. I’m panting when he comes up for air.
“You’re always right,” he says, face slick with my juices. I writhe against his fingers as he stands and pulls me off the dresser, moving us through the door and back towards the bed. “How do you want my cock?” he asks.
“Deep. Hard,” I plead, on the precipice, shaking and barely hanging onto him.
He lays me down and pulls my skirt off, dragging my panties with it. “Take off your blouse,” he says, straddling me and rubbing the tip of his cock at my more than ready opening. “You know I need to see those sexy tits bouncing while I fuck you senseless.”
I’m already senseless, but I shakily unbutton my top and then unclasp my bra. When my breasts spring free, he reaches to tweak each nipple into hard peaks.
“Tell me what to do,” I urge. “Anything you want.”
It may seem like we’re just playing, but he’s done so much to make my life an absolute dream since I gave him that second chance, that I mean it with my whole being. All I want is for him to know how much I love him and that he’s number one in my heart, as I am in his. I can see in his eyes that he knows it. There’s nothing but adoration shining from those blue depths.
He slides his fingers over my clit again, holding my hips tight to the bed with his knees. Our eyes never waver from each other as he brings me closer and closer to the edge.
