Epilogue

epilogue

?. . .?

Five years later

Ryan

"Daddy, is Santa really coming tonight?" Lily yawns, her green eyes fluttering sleepily, so like her mother's.

I tuck the blanket snug around her little body. "He sure is, pumpkin. And if you go right to sleep, morning will come faster and you'll get to open all the presents he brings."

Anastasia leans down to kiss Lily's forehead, her chestnut hair falling in a silky curtain. "Sweet dreams, baby girl. We love you to the moon and back."

"Love you mostest," Lily mumbles, drifting off.

We slip out quietly, Anastasia's hand finding mine. Five years ago, I never could have imagined this life—a beautiful wife, a perfect daughter, a family to cherish. Anastasia changed everything when her caring heart saw past the ruthless corporate raider to the man I could become. For her. For our daughter

"The addition is really coming along," I say softly go over the latest email about the construction. Expanding the center was Anastasia's greatest wish, and making her dreams reality is my deepest joy.

She squeezes my hand. "I'm so proud of you, Ryan. The way you've transformed your business, always looking out for the little guy now. You're a good man."

I pull her close, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent. "Because of you, darling. You saved my soul." I brush a tender kiss to her temple. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for our family."

And I mean it, with every fiber of my being. They are my world, my reason, my redemption.

But now that our little girl is in bed, it’s time for me to take care of my other girl.

I pat my lap, inviting Anastasia to sit on it.

She does obediently.

"Anastasia," I purr, "have you been a good girl this year?"

She blushes, an enchanting flush creeping up her face. She loves this game. We started playing it four Christmases ago, and we’ve done it every Christmas since. "I think so...?" She licks her lips, and my cock hardens.

"And what do good girls get?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Santa might bring them presents?" she says, biting her lip playfully.

"That's right, baby. So, what does my perfect baby want Santa to give her for Christmas?"

Instead of answering me, Anastasia changes the script, a mischeivous twinkle in her eyes.

She drops to her knees before me.

Oh fuck yes .

My cock grows even harder when I realize her intent.

Anastasia's tongue flicks out, wetting her plump lips. Her hands slide up my thighs, nails leaving delicious trails of heat.

She undoes my pants, and my cock springs free, bobbing in the air between us.

My breath catches when she takes me in her warm mouth, sucking and licking like I’m the world’s best lollipop.

Fuck me .

"Oh, fuck, Ana," I hiss, thrusting my hips into her waiting mouth. She moans around my cock, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine.

I let her play a bit more, but I can never take much of my wife’s cocksucking before I blow, and I want to come in her pussy.

"Enough," I finally muster up the control to growl. She whimpers as my cock pops from her mouth, but I shush her as I lift her up and position her on all fours. She looks over her shoulder, that naughty glint in her eyes.

I pull down her festive red panties and slide my fingers through her slick folds. She's dripping wet already, eager and ready for me.

"You want Santa's big candy cane, don't you baby?" I tease, rubbing the swollen head of my cock against her entrance.

"Yes, please Santa!" she begs breathlessly, pushing back against me. "I've been such a good girl, I need it so badly!"

With a low groan, I thrust deep inside her in one smooth stroke. Her tight heat engulfs me and we both moan at the exquisite sensation. I start pumping into her, firm and steady, just how she likes it.

"Oh Ryan, yes! You fill me up so good!" Anastasia cries out as I pound into her sweet spot over and over.

I reach around to rub tight circles on her clit and she bucks wildly against me. "That's it, come on Santa's cock like a good little girl," I growl in her ear.

Her walls clench rhythmically around me as she shatters with a keening cry. I thrust through her orgasm, drawing it out until she's trembling and gasping my name.

"Fuck, Ana, I'm gonna come!" I grit out, my climax cresting.

"Yes, fill me up Ryan! I want to feel you explode inside me!" she urges breathlessly.

A few more deep strokes and I burst, shooting my hot seed deep in her fluttering channel with a primal groan. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me as I empty myself completely, trying my damnedest to get her pregnant again.

I collapse on top of her, both of us panting and sated. I press soft kisses along her neck and shoulder. "I love you so much, Anastasia. You're the best gift I could ever receive. You and Lily."

She turns in my arms to face me, her eyes shining with love and contentment. “And the new little one on the way.”

I go completely still as I look down at her, her words crashing over me. “You’re pregnant?”

She smiles radiantly and nods.

My heart explodes with joy. “Oh, baby,” my voice cracks with emotion. “You’re amazing. You know that, right?”

"I love you too, Ryan,” she smiles. “More than anything. Merry Christmas, handsome."

I plant a reverent kiss on her forehead, this perfect, breathtaking woman who’s changed my life in so many beautiful ways. "Merry Christmas, baby."

Want a free book from Emma Bray? Go to www.authoremmabray.com .

Keep reading for an excerpt from Rocky Christmas .

Rocky

I take a sip of my club soda as I watch the boxing match on the big screen.

While I’d love to have a beer, that's not what I'm here for. When I'm scheduled to fight in a match, I go through a grueling process of abstinence. I watch my diet. No processed or refined foods. Only healthy, whole foods. No alcohol. No fucking—not that there's been any fucking for me for years. I have two hands to sate my needs with, but I even abstain from self-gratification before a match.

My trainers insist that a strict diet with no drugs of any kind, including alcohol, and no sex helps build up the testosterone needed to really channel a good fight. I don't know how much I believe all that shit, but I do know I want to make sure my body is a well-honed machine when fight time comes around, so I follow their advice.

I'm not much for heavy drink anyway. I prefer to keep a clear head about myself, but a good beer is hard to beat every now and then. After this match, I'll have me one, I silently promise myself as I take another swig of the soda.

“Ooh, that's gotta hurt,” the guy to my right says, his eyes glued to the screen. I look back up at the TV as Riker delivers a right hook to his opponent.

I grunt in agreement. My brother sure knows his stuff when it comes to boxing.

I'm glad I was able to talk him into taking it up instead of watching him waste away up on the top of that mountain he lives on. He's only in his early thirties—like me—but he went into the military when we were younger—unlike me. He's never told me what happened over there. All I know is that he came back a different man. He won’t talk to me. He won’t talk to reporters. Hell, he won’t talk to anyone.

Before I turned him on to boxing, he used to just sit up in his house secluded away from everyone, brooding and doing fuck who knows what.

He’s got a lot of rage in him. Anyone can tell that by watching him box. You don't box the way he does without having something to work out. At least he has an outlet to channel his frustration into.

I like a good boxing match too, but my strengths lie in MMA. I like the variety. I like the combativeness of it, and while I don’t have the aggression and internal turmoil my brother does, I have a passion for the sport.

Riker KO’s his opponent a minute later, and pride fills my chest for my brother. The ref holds Riker’s hand up, declaring him the champion of the match. My brother accepts the applause, but he doesn’t look jubilant like most victors of a fight do. He’s just as stoic as usual, with the same grim, no-nonsense expression he’s worn since he came back from overseas.

I plop down some money on the bar and stand. Now that the match is over, I can go home and rest up for my own match.

I’m mentally calculating the time difference between my brother and me so that I can figure out when to give him a call to congratulate him on his latest win when I turn around and stop dead in my tracks.

My eyes light on a mass of fiery red hair that tumbles down a slender back. Those red locks almost touch the top of the woman’s ass, and I stare at them mesmerized. The locks are full and wild, curling out every which way. I've never been the kind of guy who gets off on hair, but this woman's hair is fucking beautiful. My fingers twitch at my sides. I have the sudden urge to spear my hands into that hair and see if it feels as soft and silky as it looks.

The curls bounce as the girl tips her head back and laughs before she hops off the barstool beside her grinning friend, a brunette who I hardly notice out of the corner of my eyes because my gaze is pinned on the pretty little redhead.

She can't be much more than five feet tall, and when she looks in my direction, my chest tightens like I've been punched in the gut when I look into the prettiest pair of green eyes I've ever seen. They're big and innocent-looking and framed by thick, dark lashes.

I know fucking is on my list of prohibited activities, but I'd break every rule in the book for a chance to get my dick wet by this pretty little redhead, but it's not even about that. I'm not just looking at her in lust, though I'd be lying if I said I'm not practically salivating at the thought of burying myself inside what I already know is going to be the tightest little pussy in the world.

No, it's more than that. I feel something I've never felt before surge inside me when I look at her. I don't just want to stick my dick inside her. I want to wrap her up in my arms and hold her close to me forever. I want to crawl inside her head and learn everything there is to know about her.

I blink when I realize I would be happy just to talk to her. I want to get to know her. There's something about her.

I know that if I ever did get inside her, there's no way I'd ever be able to let her go.

My head should be in the game. I should be mentally prepping myself for my fight tomorrow. A lot of big players have bet money on me. I know that. I don't want to let them down. I don't want to let myself down.

But right now, the only thing I can think about is the pretty little redhead across the bar and finding out what her name is.

I take another sip of my club soda before I plop it back down on the bar. I grimace. Fuck, I wish that was a beer.

I might can abstain from alcohol for the sake of the match, but there's no way I'm going to leave this bar without finding out who this tiny angel is.

Holly

Cara's eyes widen as they focus on something behind me.

My laugh dies off, and I turn, my own eyes widening when I see what she sees.

The biggest, burliest man I've ever seen in my entire life is stalking over toward us. A thick, dark brown beard adorns the bottom half of his face. His shirt is molded to the ridges of muscles straining against his T-shirt like it's all the fabric can do to contain all that manliness.

Even though it's winter in Denver, this man is wearing short sleeves like he laughs in the face of the cold weather. Tats decorate his arms.

He’s a powerhouse of masculinity.

Good lord, what does this man do? Weight-lift cars?

All that muscle must be more than enough to protect him against winter’s chill, but I'm wrapped up in a turtleneck sweater. I’m also wearing a big, fluffy coat too. I stay cold all the time, but this man…something tells me that his big body is like a furnace.

I'm proved correct when he finally stops right in front of me—so close to me that there's scarcely an inch left between our bodies. I tip my head up to look at the giant towering over me. I'm barely five foot two, so I'm short even compared to the average person, but this guy is way above average. He has to be well over six feet tall, making me appear even teenier and tinier than usual.

His eyes are a deep brown, like the finest chocolate.

They bore down into me in a way that sends all the blood rushing to my cheeks.

His eyes have taken mine captive. I couldn't look away from them if I tried.

I vaguely register Cara murmuring something, but I can’t make out what she’s saying over the roaring in my ears. It’s like this man has caused everything around me to dim.

The man’s eyes rove over my face as if he's trying to commit all of it to memory before one of his giant hands reach out to gently touch my hair.

His lips part slightly, and my breath hitches.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” His voice is like a big rumble of thunder, and it sends little shock waves rolling through me.

“Holly.” I don't even contemplate not answering him because I'm suddenly dying to know who he is too.

I don't even have to prompt him for his own name.

“Holly,” he tastes my name on his lips and nods his head in approval.

My blush deepens, pleasure unfurling deep in my belly at the look of approval on his face.

“I'm Rocky,” that deep voice rumbles again.

“Rocky,” I repeat his name like he did mine, and his eyes close for a moment as if he’s savoring the sound of it.

“Say it again,” he rumbles.

My cheeks flame even brighter, but I give him what he wants.

“Rocky.”

A shudder goes through his big frame. “I’ve never liked the sound of my name so much,” he growls before he pins me in his intense gaze again.

He takes a deep breath before he says, his eyes never leaving mine, “I'm not good with subterfuge, Holly. I'm not one of those guys who's going to dance around what he wants and ease into it. I see what I want, and I go after ut.”

My heart beats against my ribcage as the intensity in his eyes deepens.

“When I saw you across the room just now…” He shakes his big head before he continues. “I don't know what happened, but fuck, I want you.”

My breath catches.

He rushes on, “I know I'm coming on strong, and I don't want to freak you out, but I don't see any point in beating around the bush. I’m going to make you mine.”

The way he says mine comes out as a growl, and my heart flutters at the possessive way he's looking at me—like I already belong to him.

This is crazy. I don't know anything about this guy, and I’ve never wanted to belong to someone before. A monologue like this coming from any other man would undoubtedly infuriate me. It would come off as cocky and arrogant, but it doesn’t come off that way with this man.

I get the sense that this isn’t just some line he uses, that he’s speaking from his soul.

And I'm loving the sound of him making me his .

It calls to me on a primal level. Even though he's the biggest, scariest-looking man I've ever seen, I also somehow feel completely safe in his presence—like nothing could ever hurt me.

When I don't speak, he runs a hand through his hair, a look of regret and self-loathing on his face.

“Fuck, I've just scared the shit out of you.”

Frustration pours off him. He looks like he wishes he could beat himself up.

I instinctively want to soothe him. I lay a hand on his big arm, my fingers trembling atop his muscles.

He instantly stills, his eyes flicking up to mine and his chest heaving up and down at my touch. His nostrils flare, but I keep my hand on his arm. I feel like I’m calming a big beast. It both humbles me and empowers me at the same time. Seeing what I do to him almost makes me dizzy.

“You haven’t scared me.” I shake my head. “It’s just…no one has ever said these things to me before.”

He visibly relaxes before he covers my hand with his own. “Let me get to know you.” His voice is gruff, and it scrapes over me like sandpaper. “We can go as slow as you want. I just want to spend some time with you, get to know you.”

He fingers my hair again, a look of wonder in his eyes. “You're the most beautiful little thing I've ever seen,” he murmurs.

My heart races again. He's looking at me like I'm the most precious thing he's ever seen. No one has ever looked at me this way before.

As the senator's daughter, I haven’t dated much. I’ve always been so cautious. I’ve always had to be careful of who I'm seeing with so it doesn't look bad on my father or his career. I've never dated anyone who wasn't vetted and approved by him. My whole life has been planned out around my dad's career.

I’ve been complacent. I've never done anything just for me in all of my twenty-one years.

As Rocky's eyes bore down into mine, I realize that I'm tired of living that way. I want to do something for me.

I want Rocky. He’s going to be that something just for me.

I’m tired of only dating the guys my dad sets me up with because their connections will further his career. I want to be with someone who wants me just for me and not what a connection with my father can do for them.

Rocky doesn’t have a clue who I am. That much is obvious.

And that's why I'm not going to tell him my last name. I don't want to ruin this before it ever even begins.

My pulse races as I do the first thing I’ve ever done just for myself. “I want to get to know you, too.”

Get Rocky Christmas here: Rocky Christmas .