An Angel for the Devil
Page 7
Her cheeks turn pink. “Did you read it?”
“A few pages.” My tone is hoarse. “Enough to know you believed in me before we even met. Christ, baby. I don’t deserve that kind of confidence. Or your love. But if you forgive me, I’ll spend my life trying to be worthy. I’ll do everything in my power to be the man you see inside.”
She lays a hand against my cheek and I break, falling against her, gathering her up into my lap right there on the sidewalk, exhaling roughly into her neck. “You already are,” she whispers. “I love you. Every version. Start to finish.”
Her words rob me of fear and tension, loosening my muscles in a snap, and then my mouth is on hers, kissing her with every ounce of feeling inside of me. “Thank God,” I rasp against her lips. “I love you so much, Shelby.”
And on the drive home, while bucking inside of her, I place my mouth on top of her ear and list all the ways I plan to make her happy…and I do. But only a fraction as happy as my angel makes me just by existing.
Epilogue
Shelby
Five Years Later
Leaving my diary open where my husband will find it has become a hobby of mine. When he discovered the fantasies I’d written about him as a lovesick eighteen-year-old, we immediately came home and began acting them out. One by one.
It’s no wonder we already have two children and a third on the way.
My husband can’t go a day without being inside of me, often multiple times. Without making frantic, messy love to me wherever we happen to be in the house, our moans echoing loudly down the endless hallways.
Yes, the halls are long, but they’re no longer empty or dark or lonely.
They are bright and full of noise. The laughter of children, music…
…and the bickering of my family who come over and refuse to leave until I’m forced to throw them out—usually in a fit of laughter. They don’t have far to go, however, since Alistair built them a house on the edge of our property.
True to my husband’s word, he has become a family man. A man who treats others, especially his tenants, with kindness and compassion. So much so that I can barely remember the closed off, distant man he used to be. He takes my father and brothers fishing, sends my mother and grandmother on extravagant shopping trips and as for his children…there has never been a more devoted father.
I can hear them right now, splashing in the kiddie pool Alistair had installed in the backyard, since the indoor one was too deep for children. He’s occupying them while I go over supply orders for Shelby’s Secrets, the custom diary business I started a little over four years ago with Alistair’s encouragement. I only take on a small number of orders each month and craft them myself with the customer’s personality in mind. A while back, a celebrity placed an order and her post about the diary went viral, putting my creations in high demand.
I’m living my dream. Happier than I knew was possible.
My work for the day is finished and now I’m doing a little journaling myself, tucked up in my second-floor office, still wearing my white halter-top bikini from an earlier swim, my feet shoved into fluffy slippers.
The sound of my twin sons’ giggles carries up the stairs and I bite my lip, finishing my diary entry with a flourish of my pen, setting it down and turning to greet the three men in my life. When they reach the top of the staircase, Alistair’s attention is drawn to the diary and his eyes darken, the muscles of his bare chest flexing with anticipation.
“Doing a little writing, angel?”
I bite my lip and nod innocently. “Uh-huh.”
His voice deepens. “Sounds like it’s nap time.”
The boys complain, as they always do, but Alistair convinces them to lay their heads down and close their eyes, after which they promptly pass out after an afternoon of splashing in the pool. And then he’s back in the doorway of my office, perusing me with a wolfish expression.
With an air of nonchalance, I stand and move away from my desk, “accidentally” leaving the diary open for him to read. Alistair enters the office, closes the door behind him and picks up the small, leather bound book, his breath stuttering almost immediately. Of course it does.
I remember what I wrote, word for word.
I hope Daddy comes to find me today.
I hope we’ll be all alone.
It feels so right when he touches me.
I want to be his little girl forever.
But I also want him to finally make me a woman…
I’ve barely made it two steps from the desk when Alistair strides up behind me, walking me forward until I have my hands braced on the windowsill overlooking the side yard. My butt fits snugly into his lap, both of us breathing hard already, the bottoms of my bathing suit growing damp.
“Hi, Daddy.”
His growl sends goosebumps down my limbs, both of his big hands sliding up my body to squeeze my breasts through the bathing suit. “These made my cock hard again. These nipples are never soft, are they? Always hard. Always teasing me.”
A hot shudder ripples through me. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean it.”
“Don’t you?” He uses his teeth to untie my halter top, the material immediately falling forward to bare my upper half, his palms molding my naked breasts now, his breath hot on my neck. “You don’t tease me on purpose because you like the way I rub you right…” His right hand trails down my belly, beginning a slow, firm massage of my sex. “Here?”
I whimper, moving my backside against his stiff erection.
“I’m ready for more,” I say quietly, brokenly, my breath fogging the window.
His hand stills. “We can’t.”
My womanhood pulses at those two words. “Please? Just a little.” Our gazes lock in the glass. “I won’t tell.”
The bottoms of my bathing suit are jerked down to my ankles. “Oh, you bad girl.” My ass is slapped roughly. “Daddy’s little brat, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” A moment later, Alistair carefully, slowly, presses just the tip inside of my entrance, pushing it in and out, the smooth head only, until I’m whining, trapped in a fog of lust, my fingernails scrabbling on the windowsill. “More. Please.”
“Fuck. I can’t help it,” he groans, thrusting deep and hard, shooting me up onto my toes, lodging a scream in my throat. We both remain just like that for long moments, rejoicing in being joined completely, our game on pause as Alistair kisses my shoulder, my neck. “You know how happy you make me, Shelby?”
My laugh is breathless. “You’re giving me a pretty big hint.”
His deep chuckle joins mine, but I sense him turn serious. “I fall deeper in love with my wife every day. It’s obsession. It’s need. All the time, angel.” He slides out of me and upthrusts hard, his hand lifting to fist my hair, pulling lightly. “Every day. Every hour. Every minute.”
“It’s the same for me,” I gasp, my climax beginning to build. “I love you.”
“You’re my heart.” He thrusts, biting into my neck. “My soul. My forever. I love you.”
And with our declarations hanging in the air, we make love like the world is ending, even though we know tomorrow will come, each day better than the last.
THE END
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