Epilogue One

EPILOGUE ONE

SWITCH

" W ait," Sophia says as I try to tug her down onto the rug in our family room where the fireplace roars and the lights on the Christmas tree sparkle.

"I've been a patient man. You wouldn't let me fuck you because you were too excited for all the presents. But most of them are unwrapped now, and I can't wait any longer."

My wife's laughter, when it's genuine and at the right moment, might be the sweetest sound I ever heard.

"I have one last present for you, and I know you're going to love it," Sophia says before disappearing out the room.

Wrapping paper litters the floor, and unwrapped gifts are stacked on the sofa and table.

It's been a busy month. We made a trip to Florida for Mom to finally meet Sophia, and they got on like a house on fire. And Sophia persuaded King that we should buy the abandoned lot we met her father on. Convinced him of the potential of a professional long-term industrial storage site. Then there was the utterly unsuccessful attempt to contact Cillian.

He's cut off all communication with Iris too.

When Sophia returns, she has a large board and a toolbox. "We doing some handiwork?" I ask as I stroke my cock through my gray joggers.

"I was thinking about something we talked about the day he died."

Sophia no longer talks about her father by name. He's not Papà nor Vincenzo. He's been relegated to he or him . There was no funeral. Alessio took care of the disposal of his body. And Sophia never asked any more questions about him.

I thought an MC was capable of some questionable shit, but even those closest to Vincenzo, like his wife, moved on without hysterics.

We went for dinner at Alessio's last night. Her brothers were all there. We ate sfincione and falsomagro and anelletti al forno , and I survived an evening with my wife's five brothers and mother. And no one mentioned Vincenzo.

"What was that, Sparrow?"

"The sticker chart for quitting smoking. We jokingly discussed it, but then never made it. So, here it is to help you quit."

I've tried to quit. It's been hit-and-miss. We went to Bethlehem to take some weapons to our brothers there, and too much alcohol led to smoking again.

"So," she says. Before I can say anything, she turns the board around. "With your permission, I thought I could help."

I climb to my knees and gesture with two fingers for her to bring it to me. As she gets closer, I can see her cheeks are blushing. In blocky letters it says, "QUIT SMOKING LADDER."

It has ten boxes, each with a day over it. The dates seem to be by week and go from January to March.

"In the toolbox are ten…things…that can inflict pain. And I thought that, well, if you went a week without smoking, you could pick one of the things out of the box and tell me to use it on you."

My whole body vibrates, wanting to know what's in the box.

"Every week, I get to pick one?"

"Only if you didn't smoke. If you did, we wipe all the marks off and start again. The goal is for you to get to ten weeks in a row without smoking."

She glances down at my joggers, which, quite frankly, are doing nothing to hide the raging boner I have.

"Open the toolbox and show me what you got me. Tell me what it does and how it hurts."

My voice sounds like it dropped an octave.

"Wait," I add. "Lose the pajamas first."

Sophia bites down on her lower lip and shimmies out of the pajama pants, then opens the buttons on the pajama top, leaving it just open enough that I can see her pussy but not her tits.

"Stay like that, because you look really fucking hot," I tell her.

She kneels close to me. So close, our knees almost touch. I want to reach out and nudge the pajama top off her shoulders. Or grab her hand by the wrist and put it on my cock for some relief.

The metal clasps make a rattling sound as she opens them, and I imagine getting used to the sound on a Saturday night, waiting for whatever is going to come out from within it.

"It starts small. This is a bead picker." It looks like a fat, lumpy pencil. But as she pushes the top, four claws come out. "It's used in jewelry making to pick beads up, but I thought…" She leans forward, pushes the four claws into my pec, and then releases the pusher, allowing the claws to pinch and scrape my skin as they close. It's the tiniest bite of pain. But then she does it quickly, over and over again in the same spot until I suck in a breath.

I tug her forward and crush her lips to mine, sinking my hand into her hair, pulling it firmly in the way I know she loves. Finally, she shoves at my chest.

"Do you want to see the rest?"

"Fucking yes!"

She pulls out a small crop. Like, leather. The kind that can slice skin. I take her wrist and lead her so the crop runs over the head of my cock. Even with the soft fabric between us, I can feel the rigidity of the crop. It'll hurt.

"Is this okay?" Sophia asks, her voice breathy.

I love the way she sounds when she's turned on.

"More than okay."

Sophia makes her way through all ten of them, leaving a scalpel till last. She runs her fingers over the scarification tattoo design I have on my chest. "This is for week ten. Niro is teaching me how to do this so that I can do it for you. I'm not the world's greatest artist, so it will only be a simple design. But by the time you get to week ten, I'll be ready."

"Your initials," I say immediately. "SCV."

"Then that's what I'll practice. But I'm thinking it should be SCR, right?"

My last fucking name. "Perfect."

She squeals as I tug her so she's sitting over me. I wiggle my sweats down over my hips, and then ease her down on my cock, making us both gasp.

"Fuck, you feel so good."

We got tested, and Sophia went on birth control. Kids are a thing she's decided she wants, but after consultation with her doctors and an honest discussion where we agreed we just want to enjoy being a couple for a while, we decided it was best to wait. And to be honest, I love the way we are right now. The two of us are creating the best fucking life we can.

"You'll do it while riding me like this. I want you to fuck my cock while you hurt by body."

Sophia tips her head back as she rides me. I grip her hips and thrust up into her.

Being so deep in her pussy is the best it's ever been. And I can say that with certainty as significant chunks of my memory have returned over the past month. So has my understanding of my relationship with pain.

Shockingly, I ended up talking to Doc about it. And Doc showed how fucking cool she is by helping me understand it.

There's no trauma I'm trying to escape.

No deep reason of why I like it.

I just do.

Like a good fucking orgasm, I love those ten seconds your world shakes from pain.

Even better if the two things happen together.

And Soph…she just rolls with it. No, more than that, she enjoys it.

We have a delicate balance. A power exchange that only works for the two of us. I tell her to hurt me, and she loves doing it to me. She's no sadist; it's the joy that comes from doing exactly what I tell her. We can't really explain it to anyone else.

And the dynamic never slips outside of sex.

I reach for Sophia and pull her down to me so I can kiss her. "Thank you. For all of this. For knowing me. For taking me for what I am and embracing it with me."

She smiles. "Thank you for marrying me even before we really knew each other."

I'm so into fucking her that I almost forget. "I have one last gift for you." I flail my hand beneath the sofa where I tucked it last night. "Here."

She sits up and takes it, the gesture impaling her so fully on my cock there is no space between us.

The wrapping is a total hack job because, quite frankly, my left hand is never going to be quite the same again. Brain function, nerve damage… Who knows why I struggle to bring my fingers and thumb together? Physical therapy has helped. But if all I'm left with is an inability to wrap gifts and a preference for clothes without buttons, then I'm doing okay.

It takes Sophia all of two seconds to shake the cut I got for her free of the paper.

"Sparrow," she says softly as she takes in her name patch. Then she turns it around and her smile grows. "Property of Switch."

"Check the pocket."

She does as I say and pulls out a small box. When she opens it, her jaw drops as she sees the wedding ring I put in it. "You got an engagement ring that we used at the wedding. So, this is your wedding ring. Inscribed with Theo and Sophia. The cut is who we are to the world. Switch and his Sparrow. But the ring is who we are to each other. Theo and Sophia."

I take it from the box and slide it on her finger as she hasn't put her engagement ring on yet for the day.

"I love you," she says.

"Good. Because I love you too. Now finish fucking me, because you're the only thing I really wanted for Christmas."