Epilogue: Delilah

March – 6 months later

" A ren't you coming in, gorgeous?"

I glance up from my place at the poolside, the book I'd been reading dangling helplessly from my fingertips, as I pull down my sunglasses to the tip of my nose and peer at Grey.

He stands in the pool, smirking temptingly at me, his hair wet and plastered to his head, droplets of water sliding down his toned upper body to the water below.

I have the sudden urge to lick them before they can disappear.

Peering back at my book, I mark my place with a fold of the upper corner, place the book on the side table and throw my sunglasses down too, swinging my legs from the sun lounger I've claimed as mine for the past week or so, feeling the heat of the tiled ground prick the bare soles of my feet.

Grey watches me stalk to the poolside, my fingertips coming to my bikini bottoms sitting on my hips, repositioning them so they don't dig uncomfortably into my flesh, before I sit, only my legs dipping into the blessedly cool water.

A sigh escapes my lips.

The cool water wrapping itself around my legs, mixed with the warm sun above kissing the skin of my upper body pleasantly… it's a perfect combination.

Grey wades over to me with ease. My hands come up to run through the wet strands of his hair, while he leans one forearm on either side of my thighs and the other squeezes at my bare tits.

He crooks a single eyebrow at me. "Where is your bikini top?"

I peer down at my own bare chest, the flesh where my bikini should sit a paler tone than my now sun kissed skin.

"I didn't want the tan lines," I say. "Plus, I thought I'd give the birthday boy a bit of a show. He deserves it. It's not every day you turn thirty."

Grey pinches at my left nipple, watching my reaction to the bolt of pleasure down to my core. "So, I've heard."

His head dips down to rest on my knee, closing his eyes against the sun suspended in the bright blue, cloudless, sky above.

"Happy birthday to you," I sing lowly, even though my singing voice is terrible and completely off tune. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Grey. Happy birthday to you. Happy thirtieth birthday, baby."

Raising his head, Grey kisses me, cupping the nape of my neck so he can keep me steady and slip his tongue alongside mine.

"Thank you, gorgeous," he whispers against my lips. "It's nice to actually hear the full song this time around."

"Hey!" I swat at his upper arm. "I tried to sing it to you this morning in bed, but then you did that thing with your tongue and I—"

"Couldn't form sentences?"

Grey's eyes twinkle mischievously, his lips twisting into a smug smile, which tell me he's recalling exactly what we did this morning, tangled up in the starch white sheets of our bedroom.

"You can't have a birthday without birthday sex," I say, hands skimming every bare inch of him I can touch. Grey shivers when my nails rake his abdomen, so I do it again, just to see the goosebumps erupt in my wake.

"Can't you?"

"Nuh uh," I hum. "Even more so on a special birthday."

Grey doesn't answer, so I prompt him again.

"How does it feel to be thirty?"

"Flirty, thirty and thriving?"

I throw my head back and laugh. Growing up with a houseful of brothers, Grey hadn't really watched a romcom in his life. "A few here and there," he'd admitted once when I wouldn't let the matter go. I took that to mean he'd been forced to watch a select few with other past girlfriends.

I took matters into my own hands with that piece of information, schooling Grey on each of my favourite romcoms every Friday night with a takeaway, until we'd worked our way through the backlist the past couple of months.

"Yes." I giggle. "How does it feel to be flirty, thirty and thriving?"

"Better than I could have imagined," he admits.

"And why is that?"

"Because of you, Delilah."

I kiss Grey in response, pouring my love into him until it's overspilling between us.

Wrapping my arms around Grey's neck, I pull him even further into my body, bare breasts squished against his chest, feeling his hands band around the ladder of my ribs and drag me into the water before I can even protest.

The cool water washing over my chest takes my breath away for a second, but Grey is a reassuring presence, coaxing me to wind my legs around his hips and float.

I close my eyes against the midday sun, trying to soak in every possible moment of our holiday together.

It had been a complete off the whim decision for me to even book time away for Grey's birthday. I'd wanted to do something really special, something for Grey to look back on in the future, and the random ad, which popped up on my social media feed while I had been mindlessly scrolling one evening, for a private villa in Tenerife, Spain, had appeared like the perfect surprise.

I posed the idea to Grey's mum and dad before I paid the non-refundable deposit, because I knew Grey had never, not once, spent a birthday without seeing his family and I worried how he'd take it. But they had encouraged it, promising we'd do a second birthday celebration for Grey once we got back in two weeks' time.

I'd printed out the confirmation of our reservation and hid it inside his card, practically beside myself with excitement as I watched Grey figure out his birthday surprise. I even managed to snap a picture to capture the exact moment he realised and had set it as my new screensaver on my phone.

Now, we're here, swimming around in our private pool, the entire stone villa to ourselves, while the heat pockets create mirages of the bright pink flowers and trees dotted around the villa.

The local town is only a walk away; full of small cafes, family run restaurants, and ice cream kiosks, where the ice cream is served in sugar cones and drips down your fingertips before you can get it to your mouth, leaving you sticky. Tiny shops sell handmade shell jewellery, linen clothes and sunglasses.

It's everything I hoped it would be for our much needed holiday away.

Practically paradise.

Beneath the water, Grey's fingers dip under the fabric of my barely there bikini bottoms – another birthday treat of mine – to cup the round flesh of my arse, while he slowly spins us around in the water.

I lay my head on his shoulder, placing a row of kisses along the stubble lining his jawline.

Grey repositions me in his arms, flexing the corded muscle there, bringing our pelvis' flush together, until I can feel the already half-hard bulge in his swim shorts.

My blood thrums warm, as it has done the entire trip. The perfectly cool temperature of the pool water unable to soothe the heat coursing through me.

I don't know who moves first, Grey or I, nor do I really care.

The second Grey's lips touch mine, I willing lose all sense of control, allowing myself to fall into the clouds because I know he'll look after me, take care of me, love me.

Soft kisses quickly turn into something harder; tongues clashing, teeth nipping.

Vaguely, I can hear myself whimpering, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet villa but I'm too fixated on the ache growing between my thighs.

I grind against Grey's bulge without a second thought, too far gone with ecstasy slowly rippling up and down my spine.

"That's it," Grey praises, swimming us over to the edge of the pool and flattening my back against the tiles.

"Grey…" I breathe him in, and out and in again.

His hand disappears beneath the water, keeping me pinned the edge with his body, while his fingers hook into my bikini bottoms and slip through my folds.

I pant, my hips bucking, as Grey slips his middle finger inside, quickly followed by his ring finger. Wasting no time, he crooks them, hitting the spongy spot against my front wall that I never seemed able to reach before I met him.

My nails dig into Grey's shoulders, my head tipping back when he ghosts the pad of his thumb over my pulsing clit.

"Fuckkk…"

"Touch your tits for me, gorgeous."

My eyes are heavy with the strength of the balloon growing in my lower stomach, but I don't close them, wanting to see every inch of Grey.

I cup my heavy breasts, kneading and shoving my boobs together, until Grey's own eyes gloss over, watching the deep line of my cleavage. I wonder if he's remembering that time a few months back, when he slotted his cock between my oiled tits and—

Plucking at my nipples until the flesh lifts, I feel the heat of my pending orgasm coil around my lower back and across my thighs. It's almost ridiculous how quick Grey can get me there, having learnt every nook and crevice of my body, every small detail to key me up and push me over the edge in just a few minutes. But I'm not complaining.

Water sloshes around us, hitting the sides of the pool loudly, in time with the way I hump against Grey's hand, screwing my eyes shut only when I can't take the intensity of his stare, or my climax, much longer.

"Grey, I'm–I'm coming. "

I feel my walls contract around his fingers, my body urging him to go deeper, to keep him there inside of me.

Grey continues to lightly circle my clit while my walls flutter, honey sweet praises dripping from his tongue, prolonging my orgasm until I dip my own hand under the water to push his away from my sensitive core.

I've barely stopped twitching before he's grabbing me by my waist, lifting me up out of the water and back onto the pool side. The concrete is hot on my skin, in contrast to the cool water droplets still sliding down my legs and turning the stone concrete beneath me a darker colour.

"Lie back, Delilah," Grey commands.

I'm putty in his talented hands. Lying back fully, bathing in the hot sun, I watch him pull himself out of the water, the veins in his arms straining with his weight.

My pussy clenches again greedily.

I get a glimpse of his swim shorts straining tightly over his cock before he's on me, shoving down said shorts and untying the strings on the sides of my hips which are holding my bikini up.

Small stones dig into my back, grazing my skin as Grey wraps his arms around my lower body, spreading me for him and pulling my legs to drape over his muscled thighs.

But the pain disappears into the background when Grey's eyes fix on my bare core, my flesh probably pink and puffy from his fingers and the orgasm he pulled from me, and his thumb is running back along the seam of me making me shiver and—

Grey notches himself at my swollen entrance, pushing inside, further and further and further until our hips kiss.

I don't know if it's this position – the back of my head pressing into the concrete, my back arched, pelvis up high – or my swollen core adding extra sensation, but I feel like I'm fucking choking on his cock from the inside out.

Grey holds himself taught, his body thrumming against mine like a live wire. "Say that again, gorgeous, and I'm going to fucking blow like a teenager before I've even moved."

He laughs lowly, deeply and I can't help but tremble beneath him, realising I must have said that part out loud.

Grey moves then, pulling out and pushing back inside me, harder each time. He starts an unrelenting, punishing pace, my body being moved along the concrete pool side with each thrust.

"So fucking tight," Grey groans, fingers creating indents in my soft hips. "Gonna fill this pretty little pussy until you're dripping of me…"

I moan helplessly, my hands scrambling either side of me, squeezing at my bouncing breasts again, sliding into my hair, pulling at the strands, salt laden from our time at the beach yesterday. The balloon in my stomach fills up again, threatening to burst.

Grabbing at my arse, Grey pulls my body down to meet his upwards thrusts, leaning over me to hide his face into the safe space between my shoulder and neck.

His breathing is laboured in my ear, the audible sound of his pleasure caused by me and my body, sending me to dizzying new heights.

"Delilah… shit ." Grey curls a palm under my skull, protecting me from pressing my head any further into the solid ground.

I slip my fingers between our moving bodies to touch myself, whining at the first pass over my hard bud.

I circle my clit three more times before I fall apart beneath the hot Spanish sun, feeling Grey's thrusts stutter, his pace growing sloppy before he spills himself inside of me with a strangled groan of my name.

We simply lie there for a moment, our breathing ragged, hearts racing, until Grey whispers something about the birthday boy and his cock deep in my ear.

It's so silly I dissolve into a fit of giggles, pushing him off me while he laughs with me, both of us carefree and without worry.

From one of the sun loungers behind us, Grey's phone chimes with a text message. It's a stark reminder of life outside of the bubble we've created together.

When Grey makes no move to pick up his phone, I peer over at him, shielding my eyes from the sun. "How are you feeling about going back to London in a few days? Back to normality."

He laces our hands together. "It's been really lovely here, but it's also nice to know we'll be back home soon… Don't you think?"

I nod without hesitation. I'm excited to get back to work, to fall asleep in Grey and I's bed in our apartment together, to hug my sister, and see all of Grey's family for his second birthday celebration.

From the moment I first met Grey's family, I knew we'd be close. They, like him, exuberated kindness and warmth, a friendly face I found myself opening up to easily. I, Grey's mum and Grey's eldest brother, Noah's wife, Faith, had bonded instantly. Something I knew was massively important to Grey. He'd been ecstatic to find us three in the garden, baby Mollie on my hip – she'd taken to me for some strange reason – chatting away as if we'd known each other for years.

The Millen's had accepted me into their family simply because I was head over heels in love with their son.

Grey kisses my sweaty forehead and stands, pulling his shorts back up and picks up his mobile.

"Any news?" I wonder out loud, sitting up and feeling Grey's spent and my creamy arousal drip out of me.

"About us? I don't think so, gorgeous."

Since Grey and his management released his statement about the state of our relationship last year, the British press have gone pretty quiet. I chalk it up to the fact that we're really not that interesting, just a normal couple who aren't breaking up and making up every week. It's the way Grey and I like it.

I was however prepared for snapshot images to come out of us on holiday, but apparently not.

"What's got you so interested in your phone, then?"

"Noah has just messaged me—"

"Oh! Is it about Mollie? Is she walking yet? Faith said she would send us a video, but—"

"No... Noah thinks Hudson's got himself a girlfriend."

That perks me up. With the outrageous stories Grey has told me, and the endless string of different women splayed out across his social media feed, Hudson has never struck me as the commitment type.

"Who is she?" I ask. "She must be something pretty fucking special to get Hudson to change his mind."

"You're telling me," Grey agrees. "It's certainly going to be interesting when we get back to London."

THE END.