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Epilogue

Five Years Later

Hadley

I placethe phone back in the cradle after I book the last appointment before we close. I stand and look out the office window into the attached garage where my husband works under the hood of a black Mustang.

I watch the muscles in his back ripple with every movement he makes and instantly feel moisture gathering between my thighs.

He looks up as he closes the hood, and his eyes meet mine.

After all these years, the intensity in his gray eyes hasn’t faded at bit. If anything, he somehow manages to look at me even more intensely now.

He walks over to the sink in the corner of the garage and makes short work of washing his hands and forearms that are covered with grease from working on engines all day.

Damon is a hard worker, and that’s just one of the many things I love about him.

He started up his own garage just a couple of years ago, and of course, he asked me to give up my job as a waitress to manage the office. He said he’d feel better having me close where he could make sure I’m okay at all times. Of course, we don’t have to worry about my stepdad anymore. I’m not entirely sure what happened to him that day, but I haven’t seen or heard from him since then. I think Damon knows what became of him, but I don’t ask because I don’t really care. I trust Damon when he tells me that Randal will never bother me again.

I’m not sure what became of my mom. I’d like to say that she got sober and that she’s now a part of my life, but that would be a lie. The last I heard, she’d hooked up with a new guy, though if he’s anything like the kinds of guys she usually hooks up with, he’s nothing but trouble. It saddens me to think of how my mom is, but I think I gave up on her a long time ago. Maybe she’d get her shit together one day, but if I’m being realistic, I know that she probably won’t.

Anyway, I book the appointments and handle the financial side of the business while Damon and a few guys he hired handle the manual labor side of things.

The guys Damon hired are also felons who needed a second chance. Of course, he’d carefully vetted them and made sure he only hired ones who were sincerely looking to turn over a new leaf, ones who, like him, had gotten in over their head when they were younger.

I’m so proud of Damon. He’s am amazing boss, an amazing husband, an amazing father. He’s just an amazing man period.

I think of how gentle he is with our four-year-old daughter, Paige. She’s the spitting image of me with dark hair and my small frame, but her gray eyes are all her father’s. And they go stormy just like his do when she’s upset about something. Of course, she thinks he hangs the moon. And it’s no wonder the way he spoils her, buying her damn near everything she wants within his power to give her.

Of course, there’s another reason Damon likes to have me working in the office. When he takes breaks, he can pull me into the back room and fuck me as much as he wants. That’s why I always wear dresses or skirts to work now—to give him easy access and because I love the way his eyes roam to my legs when he’s working. He doesn’t go an hour without looking in the office at me, his eyes clouding over with a mixture of lust and love every time he does so.

I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t even notice when Damon comes into the office until I feel him wrap his arms around me, pulling my back against his chest.

“What are you thinking of, wife?” he asks me while pushing my hair aside to lay a kiss on my neck.

I lean my neck to the side to grant him better access to it, loving the feel of his lips on my skin. I usually wear my hair up in a ponytail when we’re at work, but I’ve had to wear it down the past couple of days to hide the hickeys and bite marks he left there during one of our rougher love-making sessions.

I know a lot of women don’t like the look of hickeys, but I get a shiver every time I look at them remembering how thoroughly Damon claimed me.

I see his reflection in the glass as he runs a finger over the marks he made, the look on his face proud. Damon loves leaving marks on me, a visible sign of his claim on me.

“I was thinking of how amazing my husband is,” I tell him honestly.

“Oh?” he says, a cocky smirk on his face. “Is he the one who gave you these marks?” he asks me.

“Um-hmm,” I answer, pressing my ass back against his hardness.

He groans and rocks his hips against me. “He’s one lucky bastard,” he says, his breath fanning against the lobe of my ear before he kisses right behind my ear, sending heat spiraling throughout my core.

“Damon,” I half moan, half plead, tipping my head back.

He knows exactly what I want and lowers his lips to mine, his hand wrapping around my throat possessively as he angles my head up and holds me in place for his tongue to plunder my mouth.

I whimper, melting against him, and he pulls the back of my dress up, running his hands along my ass.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he murmurs against my lips as his fingers dip under my panties to find me soaking wet. “That pussy is weeping for my cock, isn’t she?”

I just mewl in response, and Damon removes his fingers. I almost cry in protest, but he gently grasps my wrists and moves my palms to the glass, silently telling me to hold myself up. My back instinctively arches, and Damon hisses in a breath as my butt pops backward.

“Damn, baby, that’s what I’m talking about,” he says, and I hear the zip of his pants. My pussy gets even wetter in anticipation, knowing that it’s about to be filled.

He pulls my panties to the side and rubs the head back and forth along my slit, gathering up the wetness there before he thrusts deep within me.

I’m so wet that he slides fully into me in one hard thrust, the tip of his cock hitting my cervix. I can’t stop the cry that leaves me, and he moans deeply as my pussy clenches around him.

“Fuck, honey, that little pussy is already falling open on me, isn’t it?” He punctuates his statement with another thrust, and I explode, coming faster than I ever have in my entire life.

“Oh, god, Damon,” I whimper as he begins to pump up into me, his hands on my hips, riding me through my orgasm that seems to go on forever.

“Motherfucker,” he groans out in between clenched teeth, “if your little pussy keeps sucking me off like that, I’m gonna get you pregnant again, sweetheart.”

I cry out as another wave of pleasure washes over me, and then I feel Damon’s breath hot against my ear.

“You like that, don’t you, baby? You want me to nut all up in you and knock you up again, don’t you?”

“Damon!” I scream.

“Oh, fuck,” his breathing becomes more ragged as he pumps up into me harder and faster, the wet, filthy sounds of our sexes slapping together filling the room.

“Fuck, Hadley, I’m coming in you, baby,” he tells me right before he lets out a soul-wrenching groan, clasping me tightly against him.

I feel the jets of his come spurting up into me, filling me with his heat until it begins to trickle down my thighs.

“I love you, Damon,” I tell him, my voice shaky in the aftermath of our passion.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he tells me with a kiss to the back of my head, “so fucking much.”

THE END

Claiming the Runaway by Emma Bray

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