Epilogue

Epilogue

Peyton

Five Years Later

I’m not the same girl I was five years ago.

After some profuse apologizing for having inappropriate relations on school property, they let me keep my job, so I’m still a kindergarten teacher who is given to blushing. But I’m a lot braver. Which is why I’m walking through the trailer park on a Friday afternoon in the summertime, memories reaching out to me from all corners. I’ve decided to come back and face my final remaining fear—my stepbrother.

If Granger knew I was here, he wouldn’t like it, which is putting it mildly. He’s a fearless man, though. The kind of terror I experienced in this park all those years ago is something only a woman fully understands. And I’m here to purge it. Over the last five incredible years together, a lot of Granger’s courage has worn off on me.

Among other things, such as his passion.

His lack of boundaries when it comes to how he loves me.

How he takes me.

Our hunger for one another is an insatiable thing that only continues to twine and twist and grow more complex. We married on a mountaintop in fall with only the preacher as a witness, but we don’t have children, because we simply can’t share each other. My job gives me all the affection and fulfillment I need from children—and the rest of my time is spent being stalked by my husband.

Stalking him in return.

He isn’t following me today because, ever since he bought the garage where he works, weekdays demand his attention. I’ve left my cell phone at home so he won’t track me here, like he normally would. We go nowhere without each other’s knowledge and I love that. Crave and treasure it—the sense of being on an undefeated team. Love being confident in the fact that he is watching me constantly, thinking and yearning and counting the seconds until we’re back in the apartment, dragging each other under with the spell of obsession.

I’m here today for myself. Because I want to look my one and only demon in the eye and let him know I’m not scared of him anymore. I want Tony to look at me and witness the confidence that love has given me and know he didn’t win.

I reach the trailer, which looks almost exactly the same, except for a few potted plants out front. But when I knock on the door, someone I don’t recognize answers. A woman in a shift dress with a baby on her hip.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry, I…used to live here. Is Tony at home?”

“Tony?” She seems to be searching her memory bank. “Is he that fella who disappeared back in the day?”

“Disappeared?” A tingle climbs the back of my neck. “No, I don’t think so…”

“Yeah, he’s the one. Lived here before me. He up and vanished one day and this trailer sat here until the bank repossessed it.” She bounces the baby. “That’s why I got it for so cheap.”

“Right,” I say, dazed. “And when…when did you say he disappeared?”

She looks up at the sky, thinking. “Must have been five years, since I was pregnant with my first.”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “Thank you.”

The woman closes the door and I stand stock still, processing several things at once. One, Tony is gone. Two, he vanished soon after I met Granger. Three, there is no way that is a coincidence.

On unsteady legs, I turn and walk back out of the park, people peeking out at me from their windows. Do they know?

I reach my car and slide into the driver’s seat, locking the doors and staring straight ahead, not wanting to acknowledge the hot shivers creeping up my legs, meeting at my sex and turning it damp. It’s not right for me to feel this way, having just realized the lengths my husband will go to avenge me, keep me safe. But over the last five years, haven’t I learned to live in the gray area where right and wrong are just suggestions? My husband is a savage when it comes to me—and I love the darkest parts of him. They call to something inside of me I didn’t know existed until he barreled into my life and now? I can’t turn it off.

My pulse accelerating, I reach up beneath my skirt, lifting my hips to remove my panties. Setting them beside me on the passenger seat, I put the car in drive, one destination in mind. The same one I always have. Him.

Granger

I’m restless today.

Intuition pricks holes in my gut.

I check my phone for the tenth time in as many minutes, studying the blinking dot that tells me my wife is at home. But there’s something off. She was acting too casual this morning over coffee. I took the mug out of her hands, slammed it down and fucked her on the kitchen table—and she was one hundred percent with me then—biting and scratching and grinding into my thrusts. Still, a few minutes after we came, she started giving me those too-quick answers again when I asked about her plans for the day.

Summertime is hard for me. She’s a teacher, meaning she doesn’t work for three months, and all I can think about while I’m at the garage is how I’d fucking die to be home with her. Holding each other in the bathtub, making meals in the kitchen and spending hours wringing myself out in her tight pussy.

Out of the sheer sexual frustration that never leaves me, I slam my fist down onto my desk, upsetting a cup of pens. I swear to God, every day I sink a little more into this Peyton-induced mania. If we didn’t have bills to pay or basic errands to run, I don’t think I’d stop touching her for a single second. Not while she showers, not while she sleeps. Her skin, her voice, her existence are my addiction. I’m a junkie and my goal every single day is to overdose or I’m not alive.

I stalk to the glass window overlooking the garage, gratified to see it full of cars, more in the lot awaiting repairs. Over the last five years, with Peyton’s encouragement, I’ve expanded into the property next door and doubled our clientele. I never could have done it without her. Never would have believed myself capable of being a businessman without my wife.

That—and a million other reasons—is why I’m surprising her with a house tonight. A secluded cabin-style home beside a river. Lots of space.

Most importantly, privacy.

I can already see her wading naked into the river in the summertime, smiling back at me over her shoulder, her tight little ass bruised from my fingertips.

Fuck this.

I’m going home to her. My cock is already stiff thinking about walking in and taking her wherever she stands. I need her. I can’t think straight without her.

I yank open my desk drawer to retrieve my car keys, my hand pausing in mid-air when I find a pair of panties sitting there instead. My balls draw up tight and I have to grab the desk to maintain my balance under the onslaught of lust. Of course, I recognize my wife’s panties on sight. I’m the one who buys them for her. I’m the one who picks which pair she’ll wear every morning.

These are black and white and red, a heart pattern. I bought them a size too small. When I brought them home, I made Peyton put them on—only them. Nothing else. And then I told her to lie facedown on the bed and hump a stuffed animal I won her at the county fair until she climaxed. I came in my pants after a mere minute, then again when she hit her peak.

Yes, they’re a particular favorite.

I’m already rubbing them against the bulging fly of my jeans. Not only because I know they’ve touched her sex. But because she put these here.

My wife is here.

Stalking me.

A hoarse sound climbs my throat and I push off the desk, stuffing her panties in my pocket on the way out of my office. I hear nothing, see nothing, except the path in front of me. The one that will lead me to her. My breath sounds loud in my ears, my tongue thick in my mouth. I check my car first to see if she’s there, but I don’t find her. I sweep the property, growing more and more aroused the longer it takes me to track her down. Finally, I enter the lot full of cars waiting for repair—

And I catch a flash of brown curls.

They disappear behind an Acura and I stride in that direction, taking her panties out of my pocket and pressing them to my nose. Quick footsteps tell me she’s running from me. I close my eyes and listen, trying to judge the direction she’s taking, and when I figure out her course, I jog back three car lengths and take a fast right, catching her around the middle when she careens around the next curve.

“Got you now,” I grunt, dragging her to the hood of the nearest car and throwing her facedown over the hood. My wife, my Peyton, whimpers as if she’s scared, as if she doesn’t know I would die for her in a heartbeat. And she struggles as I yank up her skirt, finding her delicious ass bare, as I suspected I would. “Did you think you could sneak around and not get caught?”

I crack my palm against her backside, producing a broken moan from her perfect, beloved mouth. Then my fingers find her. Two into her incredibly narrow channel. Hard. Pumping in and out. “I…I thought…”

“You thought you could leave the sweet scent of this pussy in my office and I wouldn’t track it down?” I push my fingers deep, as deep as they’ll go, leaning down to speak in her ear. “I’d kill for this hot little thing.”

Her breath catches, eyelids fluttering. “You have killed for it.”

My heart stutters in my chest.

She knows.

For a long time, I worried she would find out I ended the life of the man who dared touch what’s mine. Who dared scare her. We are twisted in a lot of ways, my wife and I, but murder is another level of dark entirely, so I hoped she’d never find out I left her sleeping the middle of the night five years ago and woke Tony up with my hands wrapped around his neck. But she did find out.

And she’s still here.

She’s not just here, she’s…tilting her hips up, begging me without words for the rough treatment of my shaft. When I growl into her neck and buck into Peyton’s heat, we’re embarking on a whole new level of depraved. Of trust and connection. And I welcome it, crave the additional closeness of her with every fiber of my being.

“I love you,” she whispers, turning her head so we can devour each other’s mouths over her shoulder, the vehicle rocking back and forth between us.

“I love you, too,” I heave, and then I chant those three words over and over again until they blur together…

THE END

Want another obsessed hero from Jessa?

My Husband, My Stalker is available now.

I saw her on the news one night and everything changed.

Including me.

She wants normal?

I’ll give her that, even if I have to pretend.

I’ll become the paper pushing insurance salesman next door and earn her trust.

Make her my wife.

She’ll never find out she’s married to a hit man.

She’ll never know I spend my days following her.

Watching and listening.

Obsessing over her happiness to the point of madness.

She’ll never find out.

Or will she?

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