Her Prodigal Passion (40 page)

EPILOGUE

The main problem with house parties, Paul decided, was that they deprived one of sleep. With doors opening and closing all night long as various guests sought out their sport for the evening, a fellow could scarcely get in a wink. And that wasn't accounting for the female company present in his own bed. Between the pair of them, he hadn't gotten much rest at all.

Then again, he thought, his lips curving, the lack of sleep had been worth it.

He pressed a kiss to the top of his daughter's downy blond head, tucked securely in the crook of his right arm. Miss Prudence Anna Fines' rosebud mouth puckered in reflex, but she did not awaken …
thank God
.

Despite her angelic appearance, the four-month-old imp was more than capable of raising hell and had proved that again last night. At wit's end, the beleaguered nurse had come knocking on the door, bearing the inconsolable infant. The instant Pru had nestled into her papa's arms, however, she'd calmed instantly, cooing and batting her impossibly long eyelashes at him.

In this way, Pru took after her mama.

Smiling, Paul turned his head to the other side, his chest swelling even further. Charity lay sleeping within the cove of his other arm. Her short, silky curls tumbled over his shoulder, and her bosom rose and fell in deep, even movements. As always, the sight of his wife released quiet joy, a bone-deep contentment within him.

Thanks to her, the past year had been the happiest of his life.

After winning the title, he'd retired from prizefighting. Since Charity had bet all her savings on him and won, they'd found themselves rich, even after paying off Garrity. Thus, they'd had the luxury of making decisions based on their hearts' desires and what they most wanted from their future together.

They'd bought a house, close to his mama's.

They'd made a precious child.

Paul had opened up his boxing club, and Charity had decided to close Sparkler's.

When she'd first told him of her plans to sell the shop, Paul had been stunned.

"Are you certain, sweeting?" he'd said. "I thought that keeping the shop and preserving your father's legacy was what you wanted."

"So did I, at first. Now I realize that it isn't the shop itself that I want, but a home. And the true legacy that I want to pass on is love." Her hand resting on her burgeoned belly, she'd smiled at him. "Now that I have both those things, I don't need the shop."

She'd given Mr. Jameson a generous pension and closed the doors of Sparkler's for good. Since then, Paul had witnessed his wife blossom even more. Liberated from the cares that had weighed her down since she was a little girl, she took to life with a renewed vigor. She'd always been efficient; now she was free to be efficient doing the things she truly wished to do.

Their home was a masterpiece of comfort and organization. Her beautiful embroidery added graceful touches to every room. And she'd even found the time to start a new business.

The belt she'd designed for him to wear during the championship fight had become all the rage amongst the
ton
. Every fashionable buck in London wanted one. Charity had teamed up with Madame Rousseau, and even with the latter's team of seamstresses, they could barely keep up with the demand.

Smiling, Paul looked at his sleeping spouse. Life with her was never boring. She was, without a doubt, a force of nature to be reckoned with.

Taking care not to wake her, he rose with their daughter in his arms. He placed Pru in the bassinet in the sitting room and returned to the bedchamber, closing the door softly behind him. He climbed into bed, trying not to disturb Charity, and yet she stirred. Her lashes lifted, and he found himself mesmerized as ever by those jeweled depths.

"Did I drift off? Is Pru asleep?" Charity murmured.

"Yes." Unable to resist, he nuzzled her ear. She smelled of everything clean and good. Everything he could ever want. "I put her down, and hopefully she'll stay that way for a bit."

"Like her papa, she never stays down for long," his wife said with a yawn.

"Funny you should mention that." Catching his wife's hand, he brought it against his morning cockstand.

"I was referring to you in the boxing ring," she said with a muffled laugh.

But her hand eased up and down, her touch so perfect.

Lying on his side, he gave himself over to the pleasure of a morning frig from his wife. He was, undoubtedly, the most fortunate man alive. Lust unfurled in his belly as he watched her small hands take charge of his eager equipment. She knew just how to touch him, fisting his shaft with one hand whilst cupping his balls with the other. And that expression on her face, so sweetly lusty ... for that alone, his cock wept a tear of joy.

He leaned over and claimed her mouth. Their kiss was drowsy and passionate, and they rolled sensuously over the sheets, tangling tongues and limbs and shedding robes along the way. He nibbled her ear, her neck, made his way to her breasts. He was fascinated and aroused by the changes pregnancy had wrought in his little nymph. Her tits had grown plumper, her nipples more sensitive. When he licked those perky tips, she shivered.

When he suckled a drop of liquid sweetness from her, she moaned.

He indulged himself, playing with her breasts while she clearly had some ideas of her own. Her hands found his prick again, and his hips jerked in helpless pleasure at her caresses. It was too good, too fast and too soon ...

"Sweeting, I won't last if you keep that up," he murmured.

She looked at him with steady, loving eyes. "I want to kiss you. Here," she said throatily, swirling the damp tip of his cock with her thumb. "May I please?"

Devil and damn.
His temperature shot up another ten degrees; he was lucky he didn't just explode then and there.

"There's nothing that would please me more," he said. "Only ..."

"Yes?"

"I want to taste you, too."

Her brow furrowed adorably. "I suppose we could ... take turns?"

"And here I thought you were the efficient one," he chided her.

"What do you mean ...?"

She didn't get a chance to finish for he lifted her, maneuvering her into the position that he had in mind. Now she lay atop him, her lips poised above his quivering cock ... and her sweet pussy above his watering mouth. A winning proposition from all angles.

"This is so ... wicked," his wife breathed against his prick.

"I knew you'd like it," he said.

Then he wrapped his hands around her slim thighs, groaning as he indulged himself. It became a decadent game of pleasure, a sensual follow-the-leader. When he licked her slit, she tongued his cock from root to tip. When he tickled her clit, she suckled his sensitive cockhead. When he plunged his tongue inside her hole, she took him to the balls. And on it went, until they were straining against one another, breathing hard, bound by the hot, frenzied intimacy ...

As his climax raged near, he had just enough presence of mind to try to dislodge her, to gasp out, "Sweetheart, I'm too close—"

She didn't budge. Kept right on sucking him, and from the way her hips wriggled, she expected him to do the same.

Luckiest. Man.
Alive
.

With a lusty sigh, he dove back in.

They came together, a deep shuddering ecstasy that rocked his body and soul.

Afterward, he gathered her in his arms. She lay with her head on his chest, their limbs entwined and heartbeats mingling. The moment was so beautiful that Paul wanted to stay that way forever.

Forever lasted approximately two minutes.

A cry came from the sitting room.

Charity sighed. "We'd better get Pru before she wakes everyone in the house."

"Everyone's up anyway." Paul slung an arm over his eyes as his wife left the bed. "I'm pretty certain I heard my niece raising havoc about an hour ago." He took some consolation in the fact that at least Hunt wasn't getting any sleep either. "And at this rate, the Kents' little boy won't be far behind."

"Since everyone's up, we might as well go down and visit," Charity said. "Your mama and Marietta are probably lying in wait already. You know how they love to dote on Pru. With those two for grandmamas, Pru could end up a spoiled little hoyden if we're not careful."

"A bit of indulgence never hurt anyone," he said. "After all, you let me have my way with you quite often—and I turned out fine, didn't I?"

Paul grinned when Charity made a face at him. As she dressed, he lay back and admired the view. He'd never tire of the pleasure of simply seeing his wife each and every day. For as long as he lived, he knew he'd never take that privilege for granted.

"Are you going to leer at me all day, or are you getting up?" she said.

"Leer," he said.

He smiled when she tried to look annoyed and failed. Rising, he sauntered over, cupped her nape, and kissed her until she went limp against him once more.

"What was that for?" she said breathlessly.

"For being you," he told her. "My sunshine, my heart, and my home."

Her radiant smile spoke louder than words. Her hand slipped into his, and together they went to fetch their daughter. To greet the love and mayhem of their happily forever after.

THE END

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OTHER BOOKS BY GRACE CALLAWAY

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