Chapter 38: Liars Like Us: Epilogue

Two months later

The Four Seasons Hotel in Maui is even more beautiful than the one in Montecito. Not that I’ve seen much of it, because Callum and I have spent most of the time since we arrived a week ago in our suite.

In bed in our suite, to be exact.

“Stop squirming.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can. And you will, or else I won’t let you come.”

“Why do you always get to be the one in charge?”

“Because I’m your master.”

“No, you’re my monster.”

“Same thing. Speak again, and I’ll turn you over and spank your ass.”

I glare up at him but don’t say another word.

His smile is the definition of smug. “Good girl.”

Lying on my back in bed, I exhale and try to relax. I’m bound by my ankles and wrists, with my arms overhead and my legs spread. I made the mistake of mentioning to Callum that I thought Killian’s rope stash was some kind of bondage gear, and he’s been tying me to furniture ever since.

He checks the tension on the tie binding my right ankle to the bedpost. Satisfied, he trails his fingertips up my calf to my inner thigh.

His touch leaves sparks in its wake. When I shiver, his smile deepens.

He murmurs, “I love how responsive you are to me. Stay silent, or you’ll be punished.” He slides a finger inside me, his eyes flaring with desire when I tilt my hips and bite my lip.

As a reward for following instructions, he gives me his mouth.

Leaning over, he slides his tongue back and forth over my clit until it’s throbbing, and I’m trembling with need.

“Not a sound,” he whispers, knowing I’m close to breaking into loud moans.

I bite my lip so hard, I probably draw blood. But I obey him. The only noise that escapes me is the sound of my ragged breathing.

He adds another finger to the first and finger fucks me as he eats me, feasting on my pussy with that wonderful hot mouth. My nipples are hard and my pulse is wild. Though the patio doors are open and a lovely cool breeze is blowing through the room, my skin mists with sweat.

When his teeth scrape my engorged clit, I tense, sucking in a breath. It feels so good, but if I let go too soon, he won’t be pleased.

I try not to think about how much I love pleasing him. When I do, it makes me want to bash him over the head.

“You need to come, baby?”

I nod frantically, rocking my hips, desperate for it.

“Hold it for me.”

He rises. Standing naked next to the bed, he gazes down at me as he strokes his thick shaft. My hungry gaze devours him from head to toe, those muscles and those burning eyes, the tattoos of my name on his knuckles and forearm, the image of my face surrounded by thorns on his pec. And that gorgeous erection, jutting out proudly from his hand.

I lick my lips, wanting to taste that small drop glistening in the slit of the crown.

“You’re so beautiful. Look at you. You need my cock in your mouth, don’t you, sweet girl?”

I nod again. At this point, anything he asks me will be answered with an enthusiastic yes.

“Take it.”

He guides the head of his cock past my lips, hissing when I start to suck. Slowly pressing his hips forward, he sinks deeper into my mouth. Then he wraps a hand around my throat and commands darkly, “Don’t come.”

He gives my pussy a bracing slap.

I jerk and moan as pleasure blasts through my body. My pussy tingles, aching with need.

Between gritted teeth he says, “So fucking good. You’re my good girl, aren’t you, wife?”

I make a small sound of agreement and suck harder on his cock. His low groan lets me know how much he likes it.

He runs his open palm all over my naked body, pinching my nipples and fondling my belly and thighs. Writhing under his touch, I struggle to breathe through my nose as he fucks my mouth, holding my head steady with that hand under my jaw.

When he tweaks my clit between two fingers, I moan involuntarily, my eyes rolling back in my head. I flex my hips desperately, needing him to fill me.

“She’s so good for her master,” he whispers, a thrill in his voice. “I think this pretty wet cunt deserves a reward.”

He withdraws from my mouth and opens the drawer in the nightstand next to the bed. Panting, I watch as he takes out a vibrator. It’s pink and is curved into a shape that vaguely resembles a saxophone, with one large head at the top and a smaller on atop the U on the bottom.

My eyes widen. I want to ask where he got that, but don’t say a word.

He takes a small bottle of lube from the drawer and drips a clear stream of it between my legs, spreading it around my clit and through my soaked pussy down to my ass. Then he flicks a switch on the vibrator and slants me a dangerous look.

“Scream my name when you come for me, wife.”

He works the vibrator into me, chuckling when I shudder as the smaller end breaches my ass. When the larger end is seated deep inside my pussy, he leans over and licks my engorged clit.

I orgasm almost instantly, sobbing his name. My back arches off the bed.

He makes sounds of approval deep in his throat as I rock helplessly against his face, straining against my bindings as wave after wave of pleasure surges through my core.

When the contractions have subsided and I’m lying there sated and sweating, he pulls the vibrator out of me, unties the binds on my ankles, and kneels on the bed between my legs. Pulling my thighs up around his hips, he says, “Let’s see if you can scream louder.”

He shoves inside me with a dominant grunt.

My breasts bounce. My pussy clenches. I tip my head back on the pillow and moan.

He starts to fuck me with short, hard strokes, driving his cock inside as I cry out in pleasure underneath him. Gripping my hips, he thrusts harder and faster until we’re both moaning and the headboard is banging loudly against the wall.

“Get ready to take my cum,” he rasps, fingers digging into my flesh. “Open that sweet pussy wide for me, baby.”

His entire body jerks. He falls still and throws his head back. Then he climaxes, shuddering, rocking gently into me as he spills himself inside.

My own climax hits seconds after. My pussy contracts around the long, hard length of him, over and over until I can barely breathe.

I gaze up at him in hazy wonder, thinking how beautiful he is and how lucky I am, even though our journey to this moment belongs in the fucked-up hall of fame.

He collapses on top of me, breathing hard. Bracing himself on his elbows, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me deeply. I wrap my legs around his waist and kiss him back.

When we’ve both caught our breath, he murmurs, “You didn’t scream my name.”

“I didn’t come again.”

He rears back and stares at me, eyes wide.

My smile is as smug as his was earlier. “Or am I lying?”

Narrowing his eyes, he growls at me.

I laugh. Euphoria blazes through my body, making me feel as light as air, as if I could float right off the bed.

Later, lying in his arms as the sun begins to descend over the horizon and the breeze coming in through the open lanai doors stirs my hair, I whisper, “You told me once that you didn’t want kids. Was that the truth?”

He stirs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. His chest rises as he inhales a breath. “Yes.”

“Can I ask why?”

“You won’t like the answer.”

“You can’t see it, but I’m making a face at you.”

“All right. The answer is because I don’t want to share you.”

“You’re right. I don’t like the answer.”

“Told you.”

I push up to an elbow and look at him. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. Guess what?”

“What?”

I smile sweetly at him. “You’re going to rethink your position. Because being a father doesn’t mean you have to share me, it just means you’ll have more people in your life who will aggravate you the way I do.”

His look is dour. “Just what I need.”

“It is, actually. You’re still too bossy and arrogant for your own good.”

Tucking myself into his side again, I snuggle close to him and breathe him in. “I’d also like to throw it out there that for someone who doesn’t want children, you sure spread your seed around willy-nilly. Our condom use isn’t what you’d call methodical.”

His voice turns dry. “Half the time my ‘seed,’ as you so eloquently put it, doesn’t wind up anywhere near your ovaries, darling.”

I smile, thinking of all the lovely ways he uses my body. “Yeah, but it only takes once.”

After a long moment, he says quietly, “I know.”

Something in his tone makes me look up at his face. He’s gazing down at me with warm, soft eyes. The expression in them makes my heart skip a beat.

“You’re worried you won’t be a good father, aren’t you?”

“You know me better than anyone does. It’s a valid concern.”

My heart expands, filling with love for him. Most men never take the time to think of how their faults would affect a child. But then again, most men aren’t Callum.

“I think you’d be a great dad, if that counts for anything.”

Eyes shining, he swallows. Stroking a hand over my hair, he says gruffly, “It counts for everything, wife. But there’s also my work to think about. What my family is involved in with Killian. If anything were to happen to me—”

“Happen to you?” I interrupt, alarmed. “What could happen to you? He told me you were on the administrative side of things!”

“The bad guys don’t recognize sides.”

We stare at each other for a beat until I say, “You need to let me help you.”

He replies with a flat “No.”

“Callum—”

“Absolutely not, Emery. I won’t allow it.”

“There must be something I can do.”

His eyes flash with anger. “I said no. Drop it.”

This stubborn man. He’ll never learn.

“We’ll circle back to this topic later. In the meantime, let’s order dinner from room service. I’m starving.”

He gazes at me suspiciously, lips thinned and nostrils flaring.

“What?”

“You’re going to try to talk to Killian about letting you help with the Thirteen, aren’t you?”

“Who, me?” I bat my lashes innocently. “I wouldn’t even know how to contact him, silly.”

When I smile, a growl of displeasure rumbles through his chest.

I tap him on the sternum and smile wider. “Dearest, darling husband. You’re such a grump.”

Then I roll over and hop out of bed, whistling The Pink Panther theme as I swagger into the bathroom.

Callum shouts after me, “No, Emery. The answer is fucking no!”

I call over my shoulder, “Okay, honey!” and change my tune to “London Bridge Is Falling Down.”

When I hear him mutter, “Goddammit. This woman,” I start to laugh.

I stop laughing abruptly when I see the small black velvet box sitting in the middle of the marble vanity counter. My heart skips a beat, then doubles its pace.

I stand frozen, staring at the box, until a soft voice behind me says, “I realized that I never asked you properly to marry me.”

I spin around and stare up at him. He’s smiling now, his face so handsome, it hurts.

Then, as I watch in disbelief, he sinks to one knee and takes my hands in his.

“Emery Eastwood. I love you with all my broken pieces and will until the day I die. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Water wells in my eyes. My heart decides it’s time to do some calisthenics. My voice cracking, I say, “I’m already your wife, dummy. Just ask the Pope.”

“Is that a yes?”

Because my throat has closed, I can only nod.

He stands and picks me up, crushing me against his chest and burying his face in my neck. I feel his heart pounding against mine, their frantic beats in sync, and wonder how I ever thought I was happy before I met him.

“Oh, wait. Before I say yes, I should see the ring. Make sure it isn’t another gaudy monstrosity.”

“You already said yes.”

“I could take it back.”

“And I could lock you in a basement.”

My arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, I lift my head and gaze up into his loving eyes. “And you say I’m a handful.”

“At least I don’t think baby shit makes a nice sandwich spread.”

“Callum?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Time to shut up and kiss me.”

Eyes aglow, he bends his head and does as he’s told.

Against his mouth, I murmur, “Oh, one more thing. You’re giving me ValUBooks as a wedding present.”

“Of course I am.”

“Good answer.”