The Monster in the Manor: Epilogue

Note: This is the epilogue that will be in the wide version of the book, but there are TWO chapters of extended epilogue coming after it just for you!

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Two years later

Peony

“Order up!” I shout, sliding two plates onto the pickup shelf. My front-of-house manager, Emerald, appears out of thin air to fetch the plates and carry them out to the diners. I’m already working on the next ticket, barking out orders to my sous chefs as I prepare a shallow bowl of sea bass ceviche.

“Hey, Peony.” Emerald is trying to get my attention. “They’re here.”

“Already?” It’s early in the night, only eight, and we don’t close until nine-thirty.

“Rupert said not to worry. They’re going to order dinner and then wait for you to finish.”

The rest of my shift passes quickly, as it always does when I’m working in the kitchen. It’s like service starts, then you blink once and it’s over. I get lost in the act of creating, of crafting each dish to please a diner whom I’ll never meet.

Though occasionally someone will ask to give their regards to the chef, and then I get to say hello to a table full of people gushing over my food. There’s no greater compliment than a happy customer.

When we’re finally done and the crew is cleaning up the kitchen, I take off my chef’s whites and toss them into the laundry so I can scurry out to the dining room. Rupert, Dad, Kellen, and Ignacio are all locked in conversation at their table, the remnants of their dessert scattered around them. Kellen and Ignacio haven’t tied the knot yet, but they always sit side-by-side with their hands linked, and I don’t think it’s that far off.

To my great pleasure, Kellen, my dad, and Rupert have become fast friends, though they don’t have much in common. We host everyone often, typically at the restaurant, when I try out new recipes that I’m thinking of adding to the menu. I change it out every season, which is an immense amount of work, but I like that I always have something fresh and exciting to offer my customers.

“Peony!” Rupert calls out. They all get to their feet as I join them. Rupert kisses me with gusto, then Dad hugs me, giving me a radiant smile. Kellen shakes my hand, like he always does, while Ignacio hugs me, too.

“I liked the new dinner menu,” Dad says as we all sit back down. “And the passion fruit entremet for dessert was to die for.”

My face heats with pleasure. “Thank you. I can’t take credit for that, though. That was all Roberto’s idea.” My new pastry chef is a marvel and a wonder, and I’m so lucky I found him.

“I, personally, enjoyed the savory custard the most,” Kellen says. “Wasn’t that mentioned in The New York Times piece?”

I stare at him. “The what?”

Rupert’s smile takes over his face, revealing his fangs. “You haven’t seen it yet. I was going to surprise you.” He shoots a look at Kellen, who pretends to be embarrassed for mentioning it too soon. Then he produces a square cut of newspaper from his pocket.

I take it and scan the restaurant review quickly. It’s overwhelmingly positive. So positive, in fact, that my eyes well up with tears. I can’t believe it.

“A revelation,” I whisper, coming to the last sentence. “An up-and-coming chef to watch out for. She could likely take over the world.”

I sit down, reading it again while the table remains silent. The best part? There’s no mention of the video, of Andy’s kidnapping, or of Rupert. It’s all about my food.

He strokes my back. “You deserve every word of it. You built something wonderful here.”

I close my eyes and let the happy tears fall, because I know I’m among loved ones. Then I hurry back to the kitchen to share the news.

That night, Rupert and I walk hand in hand to our apartment in the city, which is only a few blocks away from the restaurant. Strangers still gawk and point when they see him on the street, but the locals have gotten used to him. He still gets calls for interviews sometimes, but he always sends them to me instead.

Andy is in jail for at least another eight years, which is a weight off my shoulders. I’m not sure what I’ll do when he’s out again, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

When we open the door, we’re greeted by the pleased meowing of our cat, Merryweather. Someone had left her in a box outside the back door of the restaurant, and she’s been with us ever since. Rupert bends down to pick her up, and she purrs relentlessly as he carries her like a baby into the living room.

After we’ve fed Merryweather and brushed our teeth, Rupert pushes me down onto the bed.

“Congratulations on your review,” he says as he starts peeling off my clothing, one item at a time. “There’s no one more deserving.”

Sometimes I don’t think I deserve it, because Rupert gave me the resources to start the restaurant in the first place—but tonight, that feeling is finally squashed.

I earned this all on my own.

He keeps his clothes on as he licks each of my nipples, gently nipping them before rolling them about with his tongue. Slowly he strips down until my monster is revealed to me in all his glory. I run my hands along his hips to his groin, where his fur sheath is parting to allow that wet, pink cock out.

I suck on it first, lavishing him with my love, attending to every inch of it. I roll his balls in my hands the way he enjoys as I take him deep into my throat, my lips dragging over that ring in the middle. Rupert’s hips buck, his clawed hand in my hair as I worship him.

“Peony,” he growls, pulling his cock out of my mouth. “Get on your knees.”

I must have brought the monster out, because when I peer up into Rupert’s face, he’s fearsome and ravenous. So I do as I’m told, getting onto my hands and knees in front of him, exposing all of myself.

His tongue caresses me all over, circling my clit and then pushing inside me. Then the bed shifts, and the blunt head of his cock rubs those nubs all over me. I whimper with need as he finally gives it to me, gliding in with one firm stroke.

Rupert digs his claws into my ass. “My beautiful wife,” he murmurs, leaning down to nip the shell of my ear. “Mine, for all time.”

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Rupert

There is no joy greater than being inside Peony again, fitting right where I was always meant to fit. She brings me in greedily, her back bowing like a dancer’s as I thrust into her. Then I yank my hips back, establishing a powerful, quick rhythm. The animal in me is hungry for her, primed to please her, eager to fill her up until my spend is dripping out of her.

Interestingly, while it’s harder for Peony to come in this position, it seems to be her favorite. She strums her own clit, moaning my name as I plunge in and out of her. It’s easier after her first orgasm. I bend over her and clasp my teeth around the back of her neck, holding her in place as I rut into her wildly, and she moans and whimpers in answer. She likes it when I hold her down, as she does any time the monster comes out to ravish her.

I fuck her like the animal that I am, and she screams as she crests her wave a second time. Her glorious squeezing is too much, and it sends me careening into a blissful oblivion. I bury myself in her once, twice more, until everything is streaming out of me in a cascade. Peony moans as she collapses on the bed, shivering and boneless.

I love that I can do this to her.

With care, I withdraw my cock, and my thick, white cum drips out of her in the most salacious manner. Her cunt flutters, well-used, and I’m already tempted to fuck her again.

Instead, I fetch the tissues we keep by the bed and clean her up, then carry her into the shower. She’s been working all day and always prefers to wash up before getting into bed. She sags against me as I cover her hair with a shower cap and bring her under the warm water with me. Then I close my eyes, holding her tight as it falls over us like rain. 

Peony rests her face on my chest. “You know, Rupert,” she says in a sleepy voice, “I think everything turned out the way it was supposed to.”

I peer down at her, unsure of what she means.

“The old man cursing you. Andy.” I get the soap and start cleaning her as she talks. “All these difficult, awful things happened to us, but ultimately, they brought us together. And now I get to spend the rest of my life with the best husband I could’ve asked for.”

She sighs as I wash her breasts, then her groin.

“Perhaps you’re right.” I hold her under the spray to rinse her off. “All I know is that this life is better than I ever imagined.”

Then we dry off together, and Peony is nearly asleep on her feet by the time I get her back into bed. She’s out before the light is even off, as exhausted as she is by working at her restaurant.

I stroke her hair, thinking how marvelous it was that she walked in my front door.

My little flower.

My Peony.