Epilogue

Five Years Later

"Momom!" Abigail shrieks, flinging her sippy cup aside and elbowing me in the face as she sits upright on my lap, desperate to get to her mama.

"Hi, sweet girl!" Davina cries, dropping her purse and keys on the table, her eyes lighting up at the sight of our youngest, arms outstretched toward her.

She rushes across the room, scooping her into her arms for a tight hug.

Abigail sighs happily, resting her head against her mama"s shoulder. "Momom," she sighs, giving me a dirty glare.

I chuckle, setting her cup on the table beside my chair. I guess it"s my fault her mama wasn"t here when she woke up, even though Davina asked her if she wanted to go the store with her before she went down for a nap, and she refused.

But in a house full of girls, I"m used to everything being my fault. I don"t mind. So long as their little worlds are in order, I"ll happily take the blame.

"Are you being cranky with your daddy again?" Davina asks, gently digging her fingers into Abigail"s side.

Abigail cracks a smile, trying to hide it on Davina"s shoulder.

I grin at the sight. Our youngest is a certified grouch. She loves her mama and her cartoons—and that"s about it. Everything else she tolerates, including me. It"s fucking adorable.

Our oldest two are complete opposites. Lina is as shy and gentle as her mama. She"s a quiet little girl with big blue eyes and an insatiable thirst for knowledge.

Madison is probably going to rule hell one day. She"s a tiny terror who never stops. She"s loud and messy and can argue about anything under the sun. The girl knows her own mind and has an opinion about everything.

Frankly, they"re all fucking perfect, exactly like their mama. And they idolize her.

The feeling is mutual. Davina is the best mother I"ve ever met. She dotes on our girls, spoiling them with all the love and affection she didn"t get as a little girl. Our daughters want for nothing.

Neither does their mama. I make damn sure of that. I"ve spent every day of the last five years ensuring that every day of her life is the happiest I can possibly make it. If her world isn"t perfect, my job isn"t done. She is my universe. Nothing matters as much as her and our daughters. Nothing ever will.

So long as my wife and our girls are thriving, my world is exactly as it should be. I hurt when they hurt. I"m only satisfied when they"re satisfied. I spend my days keeping our daughters happy. And at night, I get to play with their mama.

She"s still my baby girl. Our relationship has changed over the years. It"s inevitable when you have kids. But we still carve out time for us—for Daddy and his little girl. We need it.

Davina isn"t truly fulfilled unless she gets to put it all down for a little while and just be my little girl—no worries, no stress, nothing but pleasure and being taken care of. And I"m never satisfied until I know she"s gotten exactly what she needs. That"s how we work. It"s who we are.

No one else needs to understand it. It isn"t for them to understand. Our life is our business. Stanley Maynard learned that lesson five years ago. I"ve had to teach it to others over the years, though in less severe ways. No one ever needs a repeat lesson. Once is always enough to teach them that I"m not someone you fuck with when it comes to my little girl.

For her, I"ll destroy without hesitation or remorse. No one touches what belongs to me. And no one makes my little girl cry. Not unless they want to face the possessive, obsessed asshole who will defend her with his dying breath.

I climb to my feet, pulling her and Abigail into my arms. Davina rests her head against my shoulder.

"We missed you," I murmur, brushing my lips against her temple. "Didn"t we, ladybug?"

Abigail huffs like I"m pissing her off—which I assume means she agrees with my comment and just want me to fuck off and let her snuggle her mama in peace.

"I"ll take that as a yes," Davina says with a little laugh. "She"s cranky today."

"She regrets her decision to stay here while you went shopping without her."

"Poor baby," Davina coos, instantly bending to plant kisses all over Abigails cherubic little face. "Don"t be sad. Mama brought you and your sisters a surprise."

Abigail peeks up at her, her curiosity officially piqued.

"Why don"t you go get your sisters, and I"ll give them to you, sweet girl?"

Abigail squirms to be let down, so Davina leans down, lowering her to the floor. She toddles off toward the bedrooms, babbling for her sisters.

I watch her, chuckling. "She"s definitely my kid. She"s a cranky little thing when you aren"t around."

"You"re cranky when I"m not here?" Davina beams at me, as sweet as ever.

I pull her into my arms, smirking at her. "All the fucking time, little girl." I brush my mouth against hers, growling when I taste cinnamon and sugar on her lips. "You got them churros from the new Tex-Mex place, didn"t you? I taste it on you."

"Uh-huh." She giggles. "I even got you one."

"Yeah?" I palm her ass, pulling her up against me. "Maybe I"ll just sprinkle the cinnamon and sugar all over you and eat you instead, little girl."

"Oh," she whispers, her denim eyes turning dark. "I like this plan, Daddy."

"Mm." I grab her ass, grinding her against my hard cock. "Maybe I"ll just eat you anyway. Fuck the churro."

"Daddy," she moans.

"I want a surprise!" Madison shouts.

"Me too! Me too!" Lina says, their little steps thundering down the hall.

"Fuck." I bite Davina"s bottom lip, my cock throbbing. "Hold that thought, baby girl. As soon as they"re down for the night, your little ass is mine."

"Promise, Daddy?" she asks, peeking up at me through her lashes.

As if she even needs to ask. She already knows as soon as the girls are down, hell itself couldn"t keep me off her. Her daddy is just as obsessed now as he was five years ago and nothing—nothing—stands in his way when it comes to his little girl.

"Tonight," I growl, releasing her as our daughters descend on us in a flurry of excited shrieks, demanding to know what their surprise is. How they even understand Abigail enough to know there is a surprise is beyond me.

I swear, they speak their own language because the only actual words the little grump says are momom, no, and nap, but somehow, her sisters always know exactly what she"s saying. It"s a mystery. But it"s one I fucking love—just like every single other part of my life. Thanks to the curvy blonde who dropped her books and changed my entire world, every moment of it is fucking perfect.