Epilogue

EPILOGUE

NORA

One Year Later

Y es, I married the man I tried to stay far, far away from. It took me some time to catch up, but I am hopelessly in love with Ronan. He loves with his whole heart, and for whatever reason, he trusts me with it.

We lasted a total of two weeks before we eloped. I’ve been married and didn’t need a wedding, and with Ronan finishing the season, it made sense for us to quietly marry. The media forgot all about his little announcement that he was to be engaged when he was appointed the new assistant coach position with Cork. No matter how many times he insisted he wanted this, I was afraid of the change. I never wanted him to resent Leo and me for retiring early, but the club respects him, and this season they were league champions.

Leo, Declan and Gavin were on the same team this year, with Lucas as one of their new football coaches, helping Ronan when their match days conflict. Lucas had an offer to play for the new rugby team here in Cork, and Bridget convinced him to help the boys. Gavin adores him, so I may or may not have been trying to fix them up for the past year, to no avail.

Bridget was a saint and offered to have Leo for a sleepover tonight, giving Ronan and I much needed alone time. Between the rush of the season ending, I all but begged her, but in exchange we’ll take the boys a night later this week—it’s our anniversary, so I wanted to plan something special for Ronan.

I gave Ronan a grocery list to keep him busy, filled mostly with items we don’t need. Stripping out of my match day clothes, I quickly hop in the shower, letting the warm steam envelop me. Unfortunately, my husband is an incredibly efficient shopper and I’m surprised to find him opening the shower door and joining me less than ten minutes after I stepped in.

“Happy anniversary, Mrs. O’Leary,” he purrs, pulling me close and kissing my neck.

“You enjoy saying that a bit too much, Mr. O’Leary,” I laugh, biting my lip. He’s lost a bit of his muscle since he isn’t following the same regimen when he was playing, but I’m still obsessed with his toned shoulder and back muscles that have maintained. I smooth my hands down them as water pelts his back.

“Fuck, Nor, I need you right fucking now.” He sucks hard on my neck, leaving a bruise behind. Without fail, I have no less than three on my body at any given moment.

“I had plans,” I whine. “I bought the cutest red silk knickers and matching bra. I was going to surprise you, all sexy on the bed, ready for you to ravish me.”

“Come on.” He turns off the water. “You know I hate shower sex.”

We step out and dry off, then he bends to lift me up and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry—just like our first night together. “Damn it, Ronan! I can walk. It isn’t as if I’m unwilling… Unless you want to role play tonight?”

“Not tonight.” He tosses me onto the bed as if I weigh nothing, my wet hair sticking to my face. It’s truly the most unattractive sight, but my husband doesn’t seem to care. “Tonight, I’m going to make love to my wife until both of us are so fucking spent that we pass out.”

“So, thirty minutes?”

Ronan lets out a hearty laugh. “Such a fucking brat.” In an instant, I’m flipped onto my stomach, arse in the air. He palms each cheek, kneading a couple of times. I shudder when he licks up my pussy, teasing my entrance with his tongue in little licks, then presses his lips to my clit, sucking hard. I’ve been craving his touch all day that it only takes a few minutes before I come, crying out his name. “Are you ready to count for me?”

“One.” It’s only a whisper, so there’s a swift spank on my arse. “ One! ” I shout earning me a kiss to the sting.

“Attagirl. Let’s see if we can get you to ten tonight.”

My husband, the delicious man that he is, makes me come seven times… seven. It was probably eight and I lost count. My body is buzzing, and he’s only come inside me once. It’s my own fault, stumbling across a book last month where the man made her come ten times; Ronan took it as a challenge. He’s determined, as if levelling up in a video game.

“Your cunt needs a break, darlin’, but I’m not done with you.”

“Fucking hell, Ronan, I should not have let you read my books. There was butt stuff in that one yesterday, wasn’t there?”

He gently lays me on my side and cuddles behind me. Reaching to the nightstand he takes out a bottle of lube, squirting a healthy dollop onto his hand, coating his cock and my arsehole. The cold gel makes me hiss. He presses the tip in and I sigh as I relax against him. Wrapped in his arms, he pushes in another inch, then another, continuing carefully until he’s fully seated inside me.

Ronan reaches between my legs, grinding his palm against my clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of me, matching the rhythm of his cock in my arse. I’m so full, winding tighter as he continues kissing every inch of bare skin available to him. Rocking in and out of me, he turns my face until his lips meet mine.

“Harder,” I whisper between kisses, still able to taste myself on his tongue.

A growl erupts from his chest and he thrust harder, adding a finger inside my pussy. The sensation is too much and I come hard enough to see stars. My breathing is erratic, unable to manage a single coherent thought, other than he’s mine. His release follows moments after mine, and as we pant into the darkness as he remains deep inside me for several minutes.

Once my heart stops racing, I whisper, “So, you want to read more books with arse play?”

“Oh, you get a kick out of it, do ya?” Ronan laughs, playfully nipping my shoulder. “Think I won’t find new ways to make you come from one of those dark romance books?” He carefully pulls his fingers from my cunt, bringing them to his lips, and sucking them clean. “Next time, you’re getting to ten.”

“Next time? The night isn’t over.”

“You’re right, but I’m an old man, so I need time to recover.”

“Old?” I chuckle. “Then, what does that make me?”

“It makes you mine, Mrs. O’Leary. All fucking mine.”