A One Woman Job

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Koen

Five Years and One Day Later

I ’m a family man now.

With my evening cigar in hand, I walk the back of the property, my gaze traveling over the swimming pool, the orchard to the north. Old habits die hard, so I check the eight-foot-high barrier that surrounds our home for signs of breached entry, taking a puff and blowing out a steady stream of smoke as I go. Sounds of music and laughter come from the house behind me, and I smile, if briefly, knowing the time my wife spends with her siblings and father make her happy. And Meg’s happiness is my number one priority.

We never went back to the house on the cliff. Or the Bat Cave, rather. After eliminating Etta—and Meg’s father’s debt in the process—the danger was not worth the risk. I drove with Meg and her family for a full day before stopping, putting them safely in a hotel while I found us a new home. A place where we wouldn’t be touched by my past, complete with new identities.

A place worthy of my wife.

And most importantly, a place with a separate, detached guest house.

Because while I might be a family man, time alone with Meg remains paramount to my existence. They come over for dinner three times a week. Meg goes to their place to meal prep and help with homework. At first, that seemed exclusively like her gig, not mine, but over the years, I started self-defense training with the young ones. Swimming lessons so they wouldn’t drown in my pool. They appear to like me. Quite a bit, actually. I don’t know why. I’ve done nothing to earn their affection.

Meg tells me I couldn’t possibly do more.

Thinking of my wife is making me anxious to see her. Hold her. Kiss her. Hear her voice go weak with pleasure. God, she looked so beautiful tonight in her red sundress. I actually had no choice but to leave dinner early or carry her upstairs to rip the goddamn thing off with my bare hands.

Doesn’t she know what her suntanned shoulders and tits do to me? Her hair twisted up in a messy bun, eyes sparkling with mirth. I nearly snapped off the edge of the table out of pure yearning. Pure hunger. Obsession that only multiplies by the second.

I draw the cigar from my mouth hastily to check my watch. They’ve stayed a little longer than usual tonight to celebrate Meg’s father reaching five years of sobriety. Some say the fire was the turning point, but Meg and I credit the six-month treatment program we put him in—and his own perseverance, of course. He’s even started working for me at the successful private security company I’ve built over the years.

Meg doesn’t need to work for the rest of her life, but she still makes paper airplanes for the kids in town and charges five dollars apiece. Once a hustler, always a hustler. We’ve attempted to give her a position at the security company on multiple occasions, but she never fails to end up bent over my desk before the morning coffee has finished brewing.

She does our accounting from home now.

The voices behind me grow louder and I mouth the word “hallelujah” at the purple sunset-streaked sky. The family has grown on me, but I like my space. With my wife, who I married the day after the fire, inside a quiet, sunlit courthouse. Who I grow more infatuated with every time I’m in her presence. Who has freed me from my guilt-ridden, blood-stained life. Would I kill for her, again and again, if a single hair on her head was in jeopardy, however? Yes. Meg is my reason for existing and on nights like this, I look around at what I’ve given her and attempt to reassure myself it’s good enough.

“Bye, Koen,” calls Meg’s father, followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the kids, who are becoming teenagers, one by one, God help us all. The girl brought home a boyfriend last week to watch a movie, and I found that oddly unsettling, until I remembered I taught her how to bust someone’s nose with the heel of her hand and drop a man with a single, well-placed chop to the neck.

“Night,” I call back, putting out my cigar when Meg waves goodbye to her family at the gate, then changes course to join me where I now sit in a deck chair by the pool.

Good God.

I can’t even watch her approach, because the combination of hunger and happiness is too much. Seeing her outlined in the sunset like that, skin glowing, her face jubilant from a nice night with her family. Someone might as well drag a rake through my chest. My breathing is compromised, pulse going crazy in my neck, wrists, everywhere. What my wife does to me isn’t normal. It’s outrageous. I live for this burn. I live for her.

“Hi there,” she purrs, letting her hair down when she reaches me, shaking out the dark locks that reach all the way to her ass now. “Doing your nightly security check?”

I respond in a voice already thick with need. “Keep you safe,” I manage, her scent rearranging my senses. “I’m always going to keep you safe.”

“I know,” she murmurs, stepping in front of me and sliding all ten of her fingers into my hair, drawing tiny circles with her fingernails on my scalp.

I drop the cigar, wrapping both hands around the backs of her knees and dragging her as close as possible, my groan loud in the backyard when my face finds the small valley between her plump, little tits and I confirm with two swipes of my tongue that she’s not wearing a bra. “Sit on my lap, baby,” I rasp, trailing my tongue up to her ear and kissing the skin there, razing my teeth against it and feeling her shiver. “Sit on the cock you make hard just by breathing. Play on it until I’m done playing.”

“You’re always done playing,” she says, settling into a straddle, lowering herself slowly, biting her lip when my erection meets the wet, swollen crotch of her panties.

“Are you saying I don’t give you enough foreplay?” I ask.

“I’m definitely not saying that.”

“If you want me to eat some pussy, just ask.” I drag my tongue along my bottom lip. “I always leave room for dessert.”

“No…” She bites her own lip teasingly, her hips pressing down, applying light pressure to my dick, flicking up and back gently. Too gently. Fuck . “You always leave the room for dessert. You’re never there when the meal ends. Why?”

“I can only be in the same room with you for so long before the ache is out of control, Meg. You know that. I smell you, I see you, I need to be buried in you.” With a growl, I reach beneath her dress and take tight hold of her butt cheeks, giving one a hard smack. “Hump my fucking cock. Hump it .”

This angel grips my shoulders, looks me in the eye and starts to work her hips.

My head immediately drops back on a moan.

As incredibly as she moved as an inexperienced eighteen-year-old, at twenty-three, she has talent beyond my wildest dreams. She can make me come in my pants with the right pattern—and she has, many, many times. As recently as yesterday, right there in my office chair. She brought me an afternoon coffee in a mini skirt and heels and…

If I keep thinking about it, there’s going to be a replay.

My breathing is erratic now and I want nothing more than to let her work, work, work my dick until I blow, but I’ve been fantasizing all night about licking her clit, too, and I need the taste of her now. With a groan of pure, male pain, I flip our positions, putting Meg on her back and I don’t waste a second shoving up the hem of her sundress, cursing raggedly over the sodden state of her panties.

“Message received,” I say, snatching off her underwear, pressing her knees open and perusing what’s mine, giving every inch of her naked sex my attention before lowering my mouth and kissing it reverently. “You ached during dinner, too.”

“I ache for you constantly,” she whispers, another round of moisture coating her flesh right before my eyes. “Maybe I’m just better at hiding it.”

“Only until I lift up your dress, little girl.” I undulate my tongue on top of her clit and her hands fly out, gripping my hair and the edge of the cushioned chair. I stay in that spot for a full two minutes, watching the arousal transform her body, making it rosy, puckering her nipples, glazing her hazel eyes. She loves having her clit seen to, but she won’t come until I put at least two fingers in her cunt. Something tells me she wants my cock right away, tonight, though. Something about the way she’s looking at me. “What is it, Meg?”

When she doesn’t answer right away, I grow alarmed, rising up over her, pinning her down and pressing our foreheads together.

“Am I not making you happy?”

“W- what? ” It calms me slightly when she looks supremely baffled by the question. “You make me happier than I ever knew was possible. Not only that…you’ve…you’ve…” A little sob escapes her lips. “You’ve changed everything for the better. You’ve spoiled me, made me the most loved and cherished girl on this earth. And what you’ve done for my family…” I can barely withstand the pressure in my chest when she looks at me like this, like she loves me beyond human comprehension, the way I love her, but I sense she is in the middle of something important, so I focus on her beautiful eyes. “When I saw you standing here tonight, smoking your cigar and looking at the sunset, I thought…I thought…”

“You thought what, Meg?”

“I want to give you sons,” she finishes in a hurry. “You have so much good to teach a son. Or a daughter. I don’t want to deprive the world of that.”

I stare at her for a long moment, reeling. We’ve never spoken of having children.

We’ve had a business to establish and her siblings to raise, although they are getting older. More self-sufficient.

When I think of my wife with my child in her stomach, I have to reach down and unzip my pants, because the sudden pressure in my cock is overwhelming. “Oh God. Oh fuck.” I grit my teeth, the imminent eruption making me shudder. “Get you… pregnant? ”

She nods shyly and drops her thighs open wider.

My mind is wiped clean. There’s only mating.

Mate her. Mate her. Mate my wife.

I barely get my cock in all the way before I’m exploding, shouting hoarsely into the curve of my wife’s smooth neck, her sweet pussy pulsing around me. Taking so gratefully.

So greedily.

Lord oh lord oh lord.

“That’s it,” she whispers in my ear, moving her magical hips in time with my frantic pumps, making me come harder than I ever have in my life, sights and sounds growing distorted around me, my focus narrowed down to only her. Meg. My universe. “You’ve given me everything. Now let me give you a child.” She grips my ass and yanks me deep into her flexing pussy, eliciting a shout from the depths of my soul. “I’ll still take care of all your aches, Daddy,” she says against my cheek, licking it. “I promise.”

My obsession with my wife becomes fucking unhinged that night.

In the proceeding years, I hide it as best I can, behind my family man facade.

We welcome a son. A daughter. Meg even convinces me to get a yellow lab.

But Meg remains the pinnacle of my existence. The reason my blood continues to flow in the right direction. Forever. Always. My wife, my best friend, my heart.

Meg and Koen against the world.

THE END