DON’T HURT ME
I’M A vir-gin💦
Rated:🔞+
Beware: Not edited
©️ ILLICTIMAGINATION
✍️ Epilogue 2 ✍️
I watch from the window as the group admire and gush over the decorations.
Then finally I sp©t Doreen seated over by the couch near the fireplace, in her l@p she holds a little boy of almost three years of age with hvge blue eyes and chubby cheeks, a dazzling toothy grin was spre-ad on his little face. In her l@p the boy sits quietly but restless as he watches the fire with wondering, curious eyes. Doreen smiles adoringly at him and she stro-kes his mane of curly che-stnut brown hair and k!sses him from now and then.
My heart lurches, but I shake my head in disbelief at the sight I see. How Doreen has manage to tame, the usually wild and boisterous boy, who now sits in tranquillity by her l@p remains a wonder to me.
As my eyes rack at the sight of my family and friends, I begin straining my n£¢k to look into the whole room so I can finally catch sight of the only person I really want to see after such a long day.
I become disappointed by each pas-sing second when I don’t catch the familiar dark blue grey eyes–the eyes that have never failed to disarm me ever since–and the familiar features of a face whose forehead is now covered by long locks of che-stnut brown hair, which in my opinion are nee-ded to be cut very soon.
“Are you going to stand there, gazing throu-gh the window like an eavesdropper or are you going to finally turn away and enter the den, Mrs Lawson?” That same de-ep sultry voice that churns and wrecks my insides into mush, breaks the silence of the night.
My eyes instantly dart towards the voice and the instant they do, they meet those disarming eyes that hold and tra-p my gaze.
I watch as the figure rises from the swing seat located near the porch and begins to journey towards me.
After seven years it still amazes how he can still look the same without any trace aging nor any change from the same strong, confident stance he always has.
He walks over to me until he stands tall and £r£¢tbefore me. His shadow casting over me from the porch light. The hvge coat he’s wearing manages to hide how well defined he truly is un-der it.
“Good evening, Mrs Lawson.” He greets me formally like he has before ever since we exchanged our vows. And so with this usual greeting, I reply with my very own.
“Good evening, Mr Lawson.”
He grins at this, the hands at his side twitching to t©uçh me but he refrains.
“You’re finally home, well after curfew again as usual.” Even though his remark is meant to rebuking, the grin still remains in his features.
“I’m not always that late.” I protest trying to put on a frown which ultimately fails since his grin is infectious.
“I had to make sure that arrangements for the children’s this holiday will be extra special for them.” I argue.
“Yes, I know. The one of many traits I love about you.” His hand reaches out to return a free tendril of hair back behind my ear. The contact makes my heart jo-lt and my skin tingle from where he t©uçhes me.
“Now, tell me what were you doing spying by the window?” He asks, the blue grey of his iris dancing with curious amusement.
I take note of how he hasn’t re-moved his hand from my face, his f!ngersnow trace my cheek. I lean my face towards the hand, closing my eyes.
“I wasn’t spying.” I reply him, opening my eyes to meet his.
“Then what were you doing?” His voice is laced with curiosity.
“Simply acknowledging the fortune that is my family and friends.” I tell him, smiling as my hand finds his other hand and my f!ngersinstantly interlocks with his, finding that I cannot refrain from tou-ching him.
I always craved contact with him especially after a long day.
His eyes radiate warmth as he gazes at me, his f!ngersmoving to trace myl-ips.
“And what do you make of this fortune?” He asks.
“Oh I am very much fortunate indeed. I couldn’t have asked for a more glorious life than the one my dear husband has given me.” I grin at him.
He chuckles softly, the sound choosing to reverberate down towards my now churning insides. This dose of de-sire I instantly feel makes me shift closer to him.
He welcomes my b©dy, by dra-ping an arm around my w@!st, whilst the other, moves from my face to hold and ca-ress the back of my n£¢k.
“He sounds like an charming man, this husband of yours.” He sm-irks.
“Oh he is. He’s also handsome too in roguish sort of way. But what I love most about him is his heart and how much it has to offer.” I sm-irk back at him.
“Ah, wife of mine, you wound me.” He frowns mockingly.
“Wound you? How?”
“By ma-king me love you even more, I didn’t know that my heart can have this much love for a person.”
“Then I shall have to heal and reas-sure it that it’s not alone in that aspect of loving someone so much it practically hurts.” My voice becomes a soft husk because he has abruptly drawn me closer towards him; his face is now inches from mine.
“Leyla, I’ve missed you all day and I haven’t been alone in that.”
“I’ve missed you too, I’ve missed all–”
I don’t get to finish my s£ntence because suddenly he can’t wait any longer to k!ssme. The instant he does, complete bliss washes over me. I close my eyes and wra-p my arms around him to k!sshim back with equal fervour.
We remain in this inti-mate embr@ce for a while until the cold wind begins to take its toll by wafting its bitter bite at us.
We instantly run to the house, k!ss!ngbriefly like teenagers at the now closed door before entering into the company of others, we know once we are there, we won’t have this chance again until de-ep in the night and it’s not always guaranteed that we will have it all to ourselves depending if our little boy will really sleep tonight.
Speaking of which, the instant my pres£nce is known among the p@rty in the parlour, everyone greets me warmly with hvgs and some with nods but the most boisterous of all is that of my baby boy.
Once he realises that I’m in the room, he struggles out of his Nana’s l@p and trudges over to me in a flurry of activity that only a two and three quarter year old can manage to achieve.
I grin at the running boy and kneel down to meet him and he flings himself at me, screaming,
“Mommy! Mommy is back!”
“Hey, baby boy.” I say lifting him up, grinning at him as I shower his face with k!sses.
He grins too, but then he says, “Gross, mommy,” as he ru-bs myl-ipstick off his face in which the whole p@rty erupts with laughter.
“I miss you.” I cannot resist k!ss!nghis chubby cheeks again.
He giggles and this time he k!sses me back. Looking at him, with those bright blue eyes he only could have inherited from his grandfather and that stunning baby grin which managed to melt your heart every time you looked at him, he was the exact replica of his father.
I move over to a vacant arm chair and sit myself on it with my boy on my l@p. Once we are seated he then begins telling me all about his day; Where ‘nana’ took him; what he did with ‘Uncle Mattie’; how he got to wra-p pres£nts with ‘Aunt Juyie”; what he and ‘Daddy’ did; all the way up to meeting everyone here.
I listen attentively, putting my remarks in the right place, k!ss!nghis hair, soothing him as well as telling him about my day when he had demanded me to do so.
He is almost three and my baby boy not only resembles his father but he’s just like him in every way.
My eyes dart in search of the man himself, and I find him conversing with his buddies. He looks back at me the instant my eyes find him. I grin at him and he has that same look of adoration and awe as he watches both me and his son converse.
It’s after a while of seating with him that I then realise the excitement of the day has been too much for my poor boy. His eyes start dropping and his head rested at my che-st begins falling to one side.
I laugh to myself, adjusting him as I stand up from my seat with intention to put him to sleep.
“No wonder he’s been up and running all day, entertaining us in your place,” Julie comments with a grin on her face as I pas-s my friends for a brief chat and wish them a merry Christmas eve.
I wish everyone a merry Christmas eve and then finally make leave, with my little man in arms, to his room.
His father follows me, not wanting to miss the daily routine of putting him to be-d. Jeremy takes him from my arms and together we head upstairs to his room where we place him in his cot.
The sooner Jeremy puts him down, my little man springs awake not wanting to miss the day, but his father soothes him to sleep promising him another day full of bountiful pla-yfullness.
A grin plasters on my face, my heart doing its usual dance when I watch father and son bond together. After a few minutes of cooing our boy, he finally suc¢v-mbs to sleep.
Jeremy turns the baby monitor on and together we silently close the door. As Jeremy turns to me, he has a hvge grin on his face.
“He wounds me too, every time with pride.” He says.
I laugh at his remark, hitting his arm in mock scolding.
“I love him so much, Leyla, even when he throws those tantrums of his. Today has been life affirming for the both of us.” Jeremy takes me in his arms and instantly leans down to level with me.
I rejoice in his words, feeling as if I can fl@p my wings like a proud mother hen. “He is life changing, isn’t he?”
“More than so, I can’t believe in two months he’ll be three. Sometimes he acts like a three year old but most times it’s as if you’re talking to an actual intellectual adult who has his own opinions.” Jeremy shakes his head.
“Well, he gets his intelligence from his father.” I comment.
Jeremy breathes in sharply before k!ss!ngme. “I can never thank you, Leyla for giving me him, for giving me a family; it makes me anticipate for the future in a more hopeful way.”
I cannot contain my grin. “And I thank you for keeping to your promise that first year, then for being too impatient to marry me. Thank you for being there with me, Jeremy, throu-gh the ups and the downs, the good and bad. Thank you, for giving me everything I could ever want and nee-d, for giving me this life, for giving me a family when I’d never had one before.” I k!sshis cheek, followed by the corner of his mouth, then hisl-ips.
He k!sses me back, desperately, as if he’s a starved man seeking for bre-ad.
“For you Leyla, everything.” His eyes shin down at me. “I vowed to give you the world, remember?”
I giggle as I hvg him, my face pressing in his che-st to feel his thudding heart echoing my own pacing beat.
“But you have given me the world, ” I tell him.
I feel his smile as he presses hisl-ips in my hair. “I better have, because you deserve it all… now let’s go and entertain our friends and family, like good hosts we are.”
I giggle again.
“I love you, my wife.” He grins as he re-leases me from our embr@ce, both of his hands now drawing my face to his.
“And I you, my husband.”
And we seal this with one long endearing k!ss.
THE END.
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Gosh that’s the final end… *ba-lls down with tears*
Thank you again re-aders for your contast very much appreciated response for this story.