Epilogue

MIRANDA

Things have beenquiet since Dylan came back from Thailand. Quiet but good. We spend every night together in each other’s arms.

He hasn’t told me exactly what happened but I read online about how his brother supposedly OD’d during his trip to Thailand.

No one knows Dylan was there. He traveled by private jet and apparently bribed whatever local officials needed bribing. He told me that much so I wouldn’t worry.

There was a funeral for his brother that he arranged and went to and looked appropriately grieved at. I couldn’t quite bring myself to go but I saw pictures. When I asked him later he said he was grieving. Grieving for the brother he’d lost, even if that person had never been real.

But he didn’t grieve for long, because while he’d lost a fictional brother, he’d gained back a very real sister.

Chloe had extended her visit and only gone back home to Austin a couple of days ago. Dylan became a different person with her around. He lit up, teasing her and joking with her. I could see what it must have been like with them growing up together. It was clear Chloe idolized him. I was so happy for him, having that.

At night though, he still had nightmares.

I woke him as gently as possible, and now, finally, he didn’t turn me away. He let me hold him. The last barriers between us were finally crumbling.

We made love every night, sometimes in the mornings, too. I think Dylan will always need that with me—it’s like it’s the only way I can communicate with him that I really love him and trust him. With my body.

We haven’t played since that awful night in the alley.

The love-making is wonderful and I’ll be more than fulfilled if it’s all we ever have. But what I don’t like is the thought that Dylan is closing off a part of himself in order to be with me.

I hate the thought that he still believes any part of himself is monstrous. I still see it in his eyes sometimes, though. The self-loathing. Not as often anymore but it’s still there.

And it’s time once and for all for him to accept every part of himself as good and whole and wonderful.

We were headed out on a date tonight and I was going to tell him all of this, but then I got a fucking flat tire.

So now I’m stranded out on an abandoned backroad at nine-thirty with no cell-service. Frickin’ awesome.

I’ve been looking for cars to flag down but I swear no one drives on this piddly little road my GPS directed me down on.

I keep my eye on my rearview mirror.

And finally, finally, I see headlights coming my way. I wait until the car parks behind mine and a man steps out. His lights are still on so he’s a tall, dark silhouette as he approaches.

My heartbeat starts to ramp up.

Even though I know he’s coming, I still jump when he raps on my window. I roll it down.

“Do you need help, miss?”

“I- I’ve got a flat and don’t have a spare in the trunk.”

“I’m happy to help. Just step on out. I’ve got the gear in my van back here.”

I bite my bottom lip nervously. “Are you sure?” I look up and down the road.

“Done it a hundred times. I just need a little help getting the jack in place. We’ll get you back on the road in no time.”

I glance up and down the road again. “Okay. Thanks. My cell phone doesn’t have any bars or I would have called triple A or my boyfriend.”

I open the door and step out. My heels and glittery halter dress aren’t exactly tire-changing attire but I hope I can be of some help.

“This way,” he says, gesturing me toward his van.

I rub my arms, trying to stay warm in the chilly night air. “I’ll just wait here while you get the jack.”

“Did I tell you to wait here?”

Suddenly the cadence of the man’s voice has completely changed, from friendly to harsh. “I told you to come with me to the fucking van.”

Oh shit.

I try to run back to my car and the open door but he snatches me from behind around the waist.

I start to scream but he clamps a hand over my mouth. It’s only seconds later that I’m being shoved in the van. He holds me down with his knees while he pulls the van door shut behind him.

Trapping me in.

Oh God, he’s got me trapped.

He wastes no time, either.

“That mouth’s so pretty,” he pants, straddling my body and scooting until his knees hold down my shoulders, his groin right in my face.

The next thing I know he has his cock out.

“You want this, don’t you, slut? I fuckin’ know you do. Saw it in your eyes you were begging for it right when I came up to you in your car. So now you’re gonna fuckin’ take it and take it all the way down your throat.”

“No!” I scream but he pinches my nose so the only way I can breathe is by gasping, mouth open.

He takes advantage and shoves his cock in, so far back that I choke.

“That’s right. Oh fuck, yeah. Choke on it.” He shoves it even further, down my throat until I gag. Tears pour down my cheeks as I choke and gag around his cock.

He pulls out and I gasp for air but it’s only a momentary reprieve because the next second he’s shoving it right back down again.

I writhe underneath him, squirming and trying to shove him off but it’s no use, he’s too big.

I don’t know how long he fucks my face for, long, agonizing minutes but finally he pulls out. I gag and choke in air, turning on my side. He gets up off me and I try to take my chance and scramble for the door.

He grabs my ankle right before I can grab the handle, though, and yanks me roughly backwards.

“Oh, I ain’t done with you, pretty girl. Not by a fuckin’ long shot.”

I screech as he shoves me on my back and rips my skirt up. He roughly yanks my thong down and shoves my legs up to my chest.

I know what comes next. My pussy is completely exposed to him and I cry when I feel him line up and shove inside me.

“You’re wet for it, bitch.” He slaps my ass so hard I know I’ll feel it every time I sit down tomorrow. “You’re so fucking wet for it.”

I weep harder, shoving at him uselessly with my hands.

He’s too big.

Too strong.

He laughs at my struggles and just keeps fucking me ruthlessly. With hard, slamming thrusts that drive my back into the industrial carpet of the van’s floor. The beading on my gown digs into my back.

“Wanna see them titties. Them fancy titties you hiding away in that fancy fuck dress.”

He reaches down and grabs the front of my dress in both hands and rips it in two. It had a built in bra so now I’m completely exposed to him.

“No!” I cry as he reaches for my breasts. He pinches one nipple, grabbing it and twisting it so hard I scream.

He bows low over me and bites my bottom lip as his hips continue to pound me. “Cry for me.” He grabs my hair and yanks my head back while he continues twisting the first nipple. “Fucking cry for me!”

The pain is excruciating. I feel him everywhere. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

I couldn’t possibly feel more.

But I’m wrong.

Oh God, I’m so wrong.

Because his hand slides down from my hair to my throat.

Our eyes meet and hold. I suck in a quick breath.

And then he starts to squeeze.

He’s choking me.

And it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever fucking experienced.

The fact that he’s allowing himself to go this far, that he’s freeing himself this much, that he trusts me and trusts himself with me.

I am so in love with Dylan Lennox.

As his hand cinches tighter around my neck and I feel his command in every flex and sinew of his powerful body over me, the orgasm rises like a tsunami.

He sees it—he knows me perfectly—and he releases both my throat and his iron grip on my nipple and the rush of oxygen and sensation— Oh God, I—

I wail as I come and clench around every part of his body I can get at.

I love him, love him, love him—

Light bursts and sensation rushes outward from my center. Oh— Oh—

Dylan’s lips smash down on me and I feel his cum spurt deep inside me. So fucking deep, uniting us, making us one.

I ride the heavens with him by my side. Always by my side.

When the wave crests and dissipates, I find myself in his arms as he strokes my hair gently back from my face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect. The most beautiful, perfect thing that God ever created on this earth.”

I laugh and bury my face against his chest.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it to the restaurant.”

“Fuck the restaurant.”

I giggle and wrap my arm around him, wanting to be as close to him as possible without having him inside me.

“The van was a nice touch.” I look around us. “Where did you even get it?”

“I was at work when I got your text, so I borrowed it from maintenance.”

“Thank you for coming,” I whisper.

He guffaws. “Didn’t have a whole lot of choice with you squeezing and spasming all over my cock like that.”

I smack his chest. “That’s not what I meant.”

He laughs and grabs my hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing my knuckles. “I know, babe. I know.”

I wasn’t sure how he’d respond to the text I sent half an hour ago with my location and the message:

Flat tire. Damsel in distress. Don’t you dare be fucking ashamed. Let’s play, baby.

“I love all of you, you know that? Your sweet side, your rough side. All of you.”

He turns over on his side, propping himself up on his elbow and looking at me, the only light from the small overhead van light.

“You mean that?”

I nod vigorously. “Of course I do. I love you.”

He stares at me a second longer. “Then I better lock this shit down. At least that’s the way Chloe put it before she left on Tuesday.”

He twists and reaches behind him and my eyes widen in shock when I see what he has in his hand when he turns back to me.

“You’re shitting me.”

A grin splits his face. “I am most certainly not shitting you. Miranda Marie Rose, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

I lift my hands to his cheeks. I swear I can’t breathe. My eyes can’t stop shooting from the diamond ring to Dylan’s face, then back to the ring and then back to his face.

“Are you serious?”

He looks concerned. “Of course I’m serious. Jesus, Miranda. How did you not see this coming? I love you. You’ve changed my entire life. Changed me.”

He sits up and helps me sit up too, then cups my face. “Be my wife. Make my happiness complete.”

Tears spill down my cheeks and I nod, over and over again I nod because I’m not sure I could voice any actual words in this moment.

He grabs my hand and fits the ring onto the fourth finger of my left hand like he’s eager to do it before I change my mind. Ridiculous man.

I throw my arms around him. “I fucking love you, do you know that?” I cry, so happy, so incredibly happy.

He pulls back from me and grins, then tugs me forward and kisses one cheek, then the other. “I always did love your tears.”