Black Wings & Stolen Things: Epilogue 1


Three Months Later

“You’re doing so fucking good, baby.” The combination of his praise and his fingers trailing down the vertebra of my arched spine has goosebumps dancing across my heated flesh. “I’m so proud of you. Just a little bit more, you can do it.”

Instantly, a mewl of disagreement leaks from my parted lips. I’ve never felt fuller in my entire life. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

His palm slides down my back again, only to smack my ass. In my current state, my cheek resting on the smooth buttery soft sheets and my ass raised in the air, I’m in prime position for a spanking. A fact he’s been taking full advantage of since he flipped me over after he was done making me see stars with his skilled tongue. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, my favorite way to wake up is with my husband’s face between my thighs.

“Shh… yes, you can,” Emeric insists. “Let me help you.”

Reaching between our sweaty bodies, he presses the familiar U-shaped vibrator harder against my clit. The delightful wave of increased pleasure instantly has my muscles relaxing, something he wastes no time exploiting. The simultaneous sensations of ecstasy stemming from my pussy and the intoxicating bite of pain of his fat cock trying to enter me in a place no other man has ever been has my fingers digging into the sheets.

“Oh, fuck,” I groan.

“That’s it. Just like that,” Emeric encourages, his hand continuing to apply pressure to the toy between my legs. “Push back as I push in. You’re so close to taking all of me. Fuck, princess. Do you have any idea how sexy it is to watch my cock sink into your ass?”

We’ve been working toward this for many weeks with various-sized plugs. It’s been a process I’ve found quite enjoyable. Especially when Emeric would insert one before we left the house and have me wear it all day. There’s just something deliciously erotic about sitting in a meeting with a team of architects and engineers as we go over the rebuild of The Daria with a plug in my ass. It’s a dirty little secret that makes me soaking wet every single time. Emeric is fully aware what kind of affect this has on me and has loved reaping his reward on the conference room table the second everyone leaves.

I had naïvely believed if I could take the last rather large plug up my ass, that I could take my husband without much difficulty. I was wrong. It’s never been an unknown fact that Emeric has been more than blessed in the big-dick department, but the way he’s stretching the tight ring of muscle now makes him feel twice as big.

The only reason I’m not tapping out is because of the waves of pleasure that accompany the pain of being pushed to my body’s limit.

“Relax and let me in, baby,” he commands gently.

From my eyebrows to my curled toes, I force my muscles to ease up and Emeric presses his hips forward at the same time. The sensation of him being fully seated, deep inside of me, nearly has me rearing up. His calming palm pressing to the middle of my back keeps me in his desired position.

My breathing has turned into rapid pants that escape my parted lips. He doesn’t move and allows me time to adjust to his invasion.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises as he bends down to press his lips to the ridges of my spine once. Twice. Three times. He never stops manipulating the toy. It vibrates against my swollen clit and that deep, allusive place inside my pussy. My body is torn between the two vying sensations happening. Part of me wants to pull my hips away from his intrusion and press harder to the pink silicon vibrator, and the other part wants to thrust backward into him because it somehow still craves more. “Look at you. You’re taking every inch of my cock.”

“Oh my God,” my whimper comes out partially muffled because of the way I now have my face buried in the sheets beneath me. “Emeric.”

“I fucking love when you say my name like you’re pleading with your god,” he growls. “Are you ready for me to move?”

“Yes. Please.”

“I’ll never get tired of you begging for my cock.”

“Stop fucking talking and⁠—”

Every thought inside of my brain abandons me along with my ability to breathe properly when he pulls back, only to tunnel deep back inside a second later. I squirm beneath him from the fullness in my ass and the vibrations at my pussy. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough, and all I can do is take it. Take everything he gives me.

He keeps this up, his thrusts alternating between deep and shallow, and agonizing slow and breath-stealing fast. It could be minutes or it could be seconds later—my ability to comprehend time is no longer intact as I’m overcome with the way he plays my body—when the telltale signs of an orgasm barreling toward me swirls in my lower stomach.

“Your ass is going to look so good with cum leaking out of it,” Emeric tells me between clenched teeth before I feel something warm drip where his dick is buried inside of me. Spit. He just spit on my asshole. Which is something I arguably shouldn’t find hot, but I do. I really fucking do.

“I’m so close,” I pant, my fingers tearing and pulling at the fabric beneath my overheated body. “Please make me come.”

He’s repeatedly told me he will give me anything I want. All I have to do is open my mouth and ask for it. Now is no different. The tempo in which he rocks the vibrator against me and his thrusts have colors erupting behind my tightly closed eyes.

The simmering hum of my impending release morphs into something intense and uncontrollable. It crashes into me without much warning. Waves upon waves of ecstasy overtake me. Muscles locking, my body shakes beneath his. I think I scream, but the blood pounding in my eardrums has left me deaf. His grip tightens on me to the point it almost hurts and a moment later, I’m filled with the warm rush of his cum.

My quivering knees give up and I fall flat against the mattress. Emeric, careful to not crush me, pulls out of my ass and removes the toy. My breath hitches as he does, the raw nerves down there making every feeling more intense.

I’m nothing but pliable rubber bones when he turns me on my side and lies with his chest pressed to my back. We stay like that, both of us fighting to slow our breathing and heartbeats, for a long moment. The pads of his fingertips trace designs across my heated flesh until goosebumps are dancing beneath his touch. He travels down my left arm and when he reaches my painted fingernails, he captures my hand in his. His thumb immediately begins to twist the emerald-cut diamond that now resides there. It’s a habit he’s acquired since slipping the ring on my finger while I slept months ago. The hopeful look in Emeric’s gaze when I’d woken up to the impressive diamond weighing down my limb silenced any argument I had about its impractical size. He’d taken the time to select this ring for me himself, and I wasn’t about to squash that just because I was worried about blinding the astronauts in space. They have goggles and shit, they’ll be fine.

With our hands clasped together, he brings them to rest on my lower stomach—another habit he’s fallen into as of late—and each time he does it, butterflies erupt in my chest and my heart squeezes.

“How’s my baby?” he asks, his breath tickling the shell of my ear.

I’m incapable of fighting the grin that overtakes my face. “I’m good.”

His chuckle only makes the muscle in my chest constrict tighter. “Oh, I know you are, princess, but how’s my other baby?”

My palm presses over the nearly nonexistent bump that is starting to form—to the place where our baby is growing.

Three weeks after the whole ordeal with my family and the Koslovs, Emeric got his wish and put his baby inside of me. He’d figured it out before I did and when he’d ordered Doc to come draw my blood to make sure, I thought he was being ridiculous. I’d been blaming my fatigue on the lingering emotional side effects of what had happened at the cabin, and I’d waved off my erratic period on the fact Emeric had removed my IUD and you can spot for weeks after that happens. As it turns out, I was very wrong.

After Doc confirmed the pregnancy, the way Emeric stared at my flat stomach in awe and wonderment had tears bursting from my eyes. They weren’t caused by sadness or anger, but of elation. I was happier in a way I hadn’t anticipated, and every day that’s passed since then, my joy has only grown.

Emeric Banes made me a wife and now he’s going to make me a mom.

“They’re loved,” I tell my husband. “And cherished.”

“Just as you.”

Images of our baby growing up in a household where they’re happy and they know they’re wanted flood my mind. They will never have the traditional white picket fence upbringing, but what does that matter when I know without a shadow of a doubt they will be healthy and safe? They will be surrounded by people who care about them, and they will thrive because of it.

Before I have time to put up the mental barricade, the reoccurring thought I’ve been having since we first found out creeps into my brain. Emeric notices the second my face falls.

“What’s wrong?”

I wave him off. “Nothing, I think I’m just being hormonal. It’s silly.”

Emeric rolls me onto my back so he can hover above me and look into my eyes. “Anything that can force you to make this heartbreaking face isn’t silly, princess. Tell me.”

My face cuddles into the hand he cups around my jaw and cheek. “Sometimes I mourn that our baby won’t have grandparents, which is ridiculous, I know, because we wouldn’t allow my parents to be in the same zip code of our child if they were still here, and your father… Daria would have been an amazing grandmother, and I guess I’m grieving for them that they’ll never get to experience the love of a grandparent. See, I told you. It’s silly.”

I try to look away, but he doesn’t allow me to. For a long, heavy moment, he examines my face before looking deep into my eyes. “Did you know it’s genetically impossible for a parent with brown eyes and a parent with blue eyes to have a baby with green eyes?”

I frown at him as my mind struggles to make sense of what he’s telling me. “My parents had brown and blue eyes.”

Emeric traces a slow circle around my left orbital bone. “For Imogen to have a child with eyes like yours, she would have had to be impregnated by someone with green or blue eyes.” He does the same to my right orbital bone and then stops moving altogether. “You know who has green eyes?”

Dumbfounded, all I can do is shake my head.

“He’s the same man who first warned me about the agreement Niall and Igor had made regarding your marriage to Bogdan, and he’s the same man who sent me a warning text the day The Daria exploded,” he reveals. My heart, which had just calmed down to a normal rhythm after having him fuck me in the ass for the first time, begins to pound again. “Brayden has green eyes.”

“Are you trying to tell me⁠—”

“Brayden Kennedy is your father.”


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