EPILOGUE: In Which She Survives "The Drought"

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EPILOGUE: In Which She Survives "The Drought"

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"Don't say another word, sweetheart," I pleaded into the phone, awkwardly meeting Ophelia's eyes over her novel. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. "I've got Ben 10 in the background and two innocents within earshot."

"Dad?" Fee mouthed at me, leaning back into the couch.

I nodded in response.

"They can't hear me," Devin reasoned, noise resounding in the background. "So answer my question, baby."

My insides turned liquid. "You know what my answer is," I said softly, although I was probably drowned out by the TV. "It's always the same."

"Yeah?" His voice was husky, thick. "Sweetheart, I bet you're wet for me."

"Yes," I said, feeling my throat dry up in contrast.

"You want my cock inside you."

"You already know that's what I want. Just get home." I was glad that he was already in the country and was only hours away from our place.

"You want me to fuck you to sleep."

"Always." I licked my lower lip. "Every night."

"You want me to eat you like I'm on death row. Suck that gorgeous clit of yours and tongue-fuck your sweet cunt until you beg me to stop."

I was begging now. "Dev, stop," I breathed, sitting up on the couch and crossing one leg over the other. "Please."

"And when I'm eating you, you'll be moaning my name the way you do and shit, Ror, you'll come hard enough to break something."

"Oh," I exhaled, toes curling. "I want you now."

Of course, Ophelia, with her bat-like hearing, heard me.

"Are you guys having phone coitus again?" she asked loudly, so loud her father heard over the phone and laughed his beautiful laugh. "Ew," she ejected.

Calvin, who was sprawled on the carpet, looked up at us curiously, always wanting to be in on things. "What's phone coitus?"

"Ophelia Shaw!" I hissed. I gave my son a concerned look. "Your sister's just made a terrible joke." At nine, he was far too young to learn what "phone coitus" meant. Quite frankly, sixteen-year-old Fee was, too.

She let out a laugh. "Relax, Mama Bear. I won't go into detail. Only if you guys don't."

"If she's having phone coitus with anybody, you'd tell me, right?" Devin's voice was in my ear.

I rolled my eyes although he couldn't see. "Right, baby. Get your pretty little butt home safely, okay?"

"We'll continue this conversation in the bedroom, OK?"

"Yes. Can't wait. I've missed you."

I could almost imagine him smiling. "Not as much as I've missed you, Nancy Drew."

Heat flushed my face. "Ten years later and that name's still stuck, huh?"

He laughed again. "Six months." His voice became solemn. "You remember that?"

"Longest six months of my life," I said seriously. "How could I not?"

It really had been the longest six months of my life. I'd gone without sex for four years before Devin but six months of officially being together – with no sex – had been torture. It hadn't mattered that it was my idea; it had still been agony. Still, it was worth it. I'd needed to know that Devin, sexual fiend that he was, wasn't with me just for sex.

When I'd broached the subject of being abstinent for six months, he'd surprised me by agreeing immediately, even after I'd told him my reasons.

"Not being inside you is going to be torture," he'd told me candidly. "It's not about the sex. It's about the closeness." To this day, I remembered his exact words as if they'd been uttered a few hours ago.

"Maybe, but I need this, Dev. I'm just not one-hundred-percent sure if you know what love is yet and that's not your fault."

We had been standing in his bedroom, a week after I'd told him I loved him and the worst possible place to discuss abstinence.

He'd reached out and cupped my chin. "I'll do this. For you. If you really need this, I'll give it to you."

"Will it be...difficult for you?"

His eyes had brightened with amusement. "If you're asking if I'll be jerking off every morning, the answer's no." He'd leaned in to me, his lips brushing my earlobe. "Because when the six months are over, baby, I'm going to be so sexually frustrated, I will literally fuck you to death to make up for lost time. That, sweetheart, is certainly worth the suffering."

I'd creamed my knickers listening to him.

True to his word, he didn't touch me for half a year. We'd shared a bed – which was torture in itself – and that was it. We'd spent every waking moment together – talking, curling up on the couch watching TV, taking Ophelia out, talking some more. I learned everything there was to know about Devin Shaw – things that Google didn't know, like how his mother's untimely death had made his father as distant as he'd later grown up to be – and he in turn learned everything about me, including the Richard Pritchett, Jnr. incident, which had pissed him the hell off, especially the part where Pritchett had painted me out as a wh0re so I couldn't get a job elsewhere.

"If I ever bump into that cunt..." Devin had threatened once I'd told him.

"Let it go. I have."

"I don't forget a name," he'd said menacingly, but thankfully dropped the subject.

Before I knew it, those six months had come to an end and Devin asked me to marry him. The ceremony on the beach had been quick and Ophelia, who had once shunned fairytales, was a fairy princess of a flower girl. Lydia and Bates had been our witnesses and I'd worn a pale sky-blue sheath dress I'd gone to great pains to find. Tacoma Bay certainly wasn't known for its haute couture.

Devin wore a tux, a delicious one that fit him perfectly and had to have been tailor-made. His eyes had been filled with almost tangible passion, pride, desire, relief – and love. I'd cried and he'd kissed away my tears. Ophelia had joined us on our honeymoon in Cairo and had slept in an adjoining room. True to his word, Devin fucked me to death to make up for lost time – and Calvin David Shaw had been the surprise result.

The Six-Month Drought, as Devin sometimes jokingly called it over the years, had only brought us closer. That didn't mean that I didn't crave Devin's body when he was away in some distant land filming one documentary after the other. I respected that he loved being in front of the camera but that he needed to do something with substance – hence the fact that he was always in places like Sudan, Egypt, Libya, India, Iraq – the list was endless – doing his damndest to be a mouthpiece for the voiceless. I was proud of him.

"Well, baby, even if you had wanted two years, I would've given that to you," he was saying in my ear now, his voice low. "Because I love you."

"I know," I whispered. "I'm in love with you."

"And only with me, Mrs. Shaw. One more thing – I have a surprise for you."

"Will I like it?"

He was silent for a while which didn't bode well. "Yes, and no."

"Dev," I warned.

"Just trust me, OK?"

"I do trust you."

"Excellent. Tell my monsters I'll be home for Christmas, Ror."

I laughed. "Will do, you ridiculous man."

He chuckled and ended the call and I tossed the phone onto the coffee table, getting to my feet.

"Your dad says hello and I'm going to help Lydia with supper."

"He's supposed to get me Danny DeVito's autograph," Calvin muttered without looking away from the TV screen. "He promised."

I didn't bother to tell him that Danny DeVito was hardly going to be moseying about in Sudan where Devin had been filming his latest documentary. Calvin was obsessed with the actor for reasons he didn't care to explain and had been counting on his father to score an autograph for months now.

I shook my head and caught Ophelia's eye. She gave me a hopeful look, one that she'd been shooting at me the entire day as we went about garnishing the house with Christmas decorations, singing old Katy Perry songs off-key.

"No," I said simply, turning and heading to the kitchen.

"Oh, come on, Ror!" she exclaimed, and she was suddenly by my side, a few inches taller than me barefoot. Tall and willowy, she was certainly taking after her mother in the looks department. It was a blessing that Natalya had quietly evaporated from our lives and Ophelia hadn't taken it the least bit hard. Personality-wise, she was nothing like that witch.

"Honey, I know what this is like but you and your father will have to talk first," I told her as we walked into the kitchen. I was assailed by the delicious aroma of Lydia's heavenly curry.

"But you know how he is," Fee complained. "Dad will say no. Which is ridiculous because we all know Kyros."

Lydia turned from the stove, a grin on her face. "Did Kyros ask you out again, Fee?"

Ophelia nodded. "Yes, and Rory said I can't go out with him. All we're doing is swimming."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" I said dryly, and Ophelia playfully slapped my arm.

"Mama Bear, I've known what sex was all about for years," she said matter-of-factly, perching delicately on a stool before the breakfast bar, "and I do not want to have sex with Kyros."

Lydia tutted, returning her attention to her masterpiece. "Children of today."

I narrowed my eyes at Fee. "We've had The Talk, right?"

"At least once a week," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"Baby," I said gently, moving to take her hand, "I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger. I just don't want you to do the same. Thing is, you're a heap of a lot smarter than I was so this is probably redundant."

"So does that mean I can go out with him?" she asked hopefully, squeezing my hand. "Please, Rory? This is practically the only time I get to see him."

This was true. Christmastime was the only time she came here – but, "It's almost dark."

"Tomorrow, then?"

I smiled. "You'll have to ask your dad." This was totally unfair because I did know how Devin was: Overprotective.

He thought every guy under the age of twenty-one was out to take his only daughter's honour, therefore any boy Fee genuinely liked – like Kyros – had to be thoroughly interrogated by him if they so much as wanted to breathe the same air as her. In fact, although he'd intended to give Ophelia the adorable Chevy Camaro he'd restored, he'd claimed that she wasn't allowed to drive it without supervision, much to her annoyance.

Fee sighed heavily. "I love you even though you're being a total pushover and letting down our gender in the process by deferring to the patriarch of this family to make minor decisions."

"Why did we send you to school again?"

She stuck her tongue out at me and I pulled her off the stool and onto her feet.

"We're good?" I asked, hugging her to me. "You know your father loves you, which is why he protects you this way. He would want to look Kyros in the eye and make certain his intentions were good."

Ophelia laughed. "Yeah, we're good. I know. And I love you."

"I love you, too, Fee."

I ended up contributing nothing to supper, aside from my mad table-setting skills. The only thing on my mind was my husband's imminent arrival and his husky promises.

Dinner came and went and I had just stepped out of the shower when I saw him standing before our bed, tugging off his black T-shirt and mussing his thick hair in the process.

"Dev," I breathed in surprise, stark-naked and dripping in more places than one.

"Fuck," he grunted, his eyes locked on mine. "Baby, welcome me home."

He didn't have to ask me twice. I was before him in seconds and his mouth was on mine, hungrily staking his claim on my lips. He scooped me up, flinging me onto our bed and kneeing my thighs even further apart.

"Missed you," he murmured into my mouth, palming one breast in his big hand and tweaking the nipple until it hardened. "Missed you so fucking much."

"Show me," I gasped, reaching for the fly of his jeans and blindly unzipping him.

He helped me get him out of his jeans and boxer briefs and I instantly got to work making sure he was hard for me. He was always hard for me.

"Argh," he groaned, raising his head when I began to palm his growing erection. "Rory, don't. I need...need to come inside you."

Need. He needed to.

I released him. "Hurry," I begged, surrendering to the beautiful feel of the tip of his cock being guided into my pussy. "Hurry up and make love to me, baby."

"We're fucking because" – Devin plunged into me, eliciting a gasp of surprised pleasure from my mouth – "there's no time right now." He pulled out halfway before thrusting into me again, drawing a low moan from my lips. "But I promise you, sweetheart, once we've both come and I've taken you downstairs, we're going to come back up here and I'm going to take you slowly."

I mewed, wrapping my legs around him. "Less talking, more fucking."

He chuckled, the rumbling of his body doing incredible things to my own body. Nuzzling his face in the valley of my breasts, my husband proceeded to make me come and then I gladly did the same to him. This was the way I welcomed him home.

*** 

"What is it, Dev?" I asked impatiently, allowing him to wordlessly lead me out onto the terrace overlooking the beach. "Just spill."

Calvin and Ophelia were upstairs, banished to their respective bedrooms for a little while. I was impatiently curious.

Out on the terrace, cold, evening wind whipped my hair about and I released Devin's hand to hug myself. He flicked on the light switch and light flooded the area.

"Is this the surprise?" I asked, glancing at him while I tightened the sash of my bathrobe. "Frostbite?"

"Hello, Aurora," a small voice said from the deckchairs to my left.

I jerked my head in that direction, unable to stop the white-hot rage that suddenly flowed out of me at the sight of a slightly haggard Richard Pritchett, Jnr. standing out on my terrace.

"What the fuck?" I spat, and lunged at him.

Devin's arm was around my waist before I could take more than two steps. I writhed in his vicelike grip, irritated.

"Let me go! Do you know what he said about me? How humiliated I was? I was in a bad space and he...he ruined my life!"

"I know, baby. I know," Devin said soothingly, "but he's lost everything and would probably sue you for lunch money if you attacked him."

I stopped squirming. "Lost everything?"

Pritchett wiped at his face with a peach handkerchief, looking uncomfortable in an ill-fitting brown suit. "Pritchett Ad Global went bankrupt four years ago. We were sequestered."

"That's karma, you shithead," I snarled, unable to believe that something that had happened to me a decade ago was making me this angry now. I'd told Devin that I'd let it go but clearly I hadn't. "I didn't exactly love my job but I was good at it! And you took that from me because I wouldn't give you a blowjob."

Devin's arm was still snug around my waist and I felt him wince.

Pritchett reddened. "That was the old me, Aurora. I was a prick, I acknowledge that. A pervert. You had to have realised that I was attracted to –"

"Fuck off," Devin snarled, letting me go and moving to stand in front of me. "She's my wife. Now say what you have to say and get the hell off my property." He stepped aside, allowing Pritchett to look me in the eye.

"I'm sorry for the misery I caused you all those years ago," he murmured, glancing nervously at Devin. "I'm sorry that I –"

"You're begging for forgiveness here, Pritchett," Devin said menacingly. "Begging denotes getting onto your knees."

Pritchett opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and slowly got onto his knees. "I'm sorry that I made up those stories about you. It was immature of me and I abused my power to ensure that you didn't lay a complaint. I tried to get into contact with you and apologise for –"

"Bullshit," Devin snapped.

"Fine. I didn't. Because I'd completely forgotten about the whole thing until your husband came up to me in London yesterday and kidnapped me!" Pritchett's voice was high-pitched and anxious. "I'm trying to make an honest living here! I'm a different man!"

"Dev," I said, turning to my husband, "you kidnapped him?"

"Do you honestly think I forced him onto a plane?"

"Well, that does sound ridiculous..."

"I'm not making this up, Aurora. He said...he said he'd castrate me with a Swiss army knife if I didn't drop what I was doing and come to this godforsaken place!" Pritchett rose. "Well, castrate me, then! Castrate me!"

"Keep your voice down. I have kids," Devin said coolly, and his bodyguard, a German called Arno, materialised from the shadows.

Pritchett flushed, obviously afraid. "Aurora, I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry."

"You satisfied with his apology, baby?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Sure?"

"Yes."

Devin gave his attention to Arno. "Take Mr. Pritchett to the airport. He'll find his way home." He returned his gaze to my former boss, who was a shadow of his former self. "Next time you decide to sexually harass a woman – hell, anyone – I'll cut off the junior in your name."

Pritchett swallowed. "Those days are over."

"Let's go," Arno muttered, grabbing the skinny man's arm. He marched him out onto the beach until they disappeared into the shadows.

"What the hell, Dev?" I snapped when they were gone.

"I'm not going to apologise."

"That happened ten years ago! I was over it. It wasn't a big deal."

He tugged me into his arms and gazed into my eyes. "Don't you know that I would hunt down your third-grade bully if you ever had one? I would hunt down anyone that's ever cut in front of you in traffic. I would do anything for you, Rory Shaw," he said passionately, shaking me. "That man is a pig and he wanted my woman to suck him? I don't care that it happened a decade ago. Fact is, it happened and he made you unhappy." He sucked in a deep breath. "I know I've made you unhappy many times, babe. It's in my nature. But making it up to you is just about the only thing I really know how to do right."

I felt tears prickling my eyes. "Can Fee go out with Kyros tomorrow?"

He quirked a brow. "He's an eighteen-year-old punk and my answer's no. Where's this coming from?"

"You have to trust our daughter. She's smart."

"Oh, I trust her. I don't trust him."

I sighed. "Dev."

"You're not a guy, gorgeous. Sex is on our minds twenty-four-seven and I'll be damned if Ophelia spends even five seconds around a horny man."

I rolled my eyes. "We'll talk tomorrow. Any progress with Danny DeVito?"

"Jeez, Rory. You know the art of subject-changing." Devin laughed, pecking my forehead. "Cal can beg for his autograph himself. He's agreed to meet him whenever we're in the neighbourhood."

I thought of shy, sweet superhero-obsessed Cal getting to meet his favourite actor and beamed, knowing how excited he'd be when he heard. The blast-from-the-past in the form of Pritchett had almost been pushed out of my mind. Almost.

"A Swiss army knife?" I asked, giggling.

Devin grinned, laugh lines visible when he did. "As an actor, improvisation is called for

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