Page 21 of Haunting Me

“Whatever you want, Ma Petite Mort. You’re free.”

Epilogue

Six Months Later

The air is crisp and smells of pine and wet earth. I call out to her, " Ma Petite Mort?" and I hear Layne's faint giggle far off to the left. I take off in that direction. The Scottish forest is an absolute dream to get lost in, especially when morning is just breaking on the horizon. Golden hues fall over the treetops, casting light through the leaves. One thing I’ve grown to adore about Ma Petite Mort is she loves the thrill of the chase. Probably more than I do.

Layne chose Ireland and Scotland as our places to honeymoon, and I couldn’t say no. With just a few days left before we return to San Francisco, we are nearing the end of our trip. We’ve been staying in a little cottage in the Abriachan forest. We have done very little hiking or exploring, mostly games of hunter and prey fucking all over the forest.

We are having one last chase before we pack and head back to Inverness. Ma Petite Mort took off from the door of the cottage in nothing but her little nightdress. Barefoot and with hair running wild down her back, she is the epitome of beauty. My boots crunch against the leaves and branches underneath me.

“Buainteoir,” the name whispers through the wind, beckoning me to follow.

Layne has taken to calling me buainteoir, Gaelic for Reaper. I guess we are both not ones for cute pet names. Ours are dark in meaning. The scent of her arousal permeates the air. It’s fucking addictive. The mere scent of her flips the primal switch in my brain and the hunt is on.

I quicken my pace as I follow her scent, her laughter growing closer. “You’re not trying very hard to run, Ma Petite Mort. I think you want to get caught.” The sound of a twig snapping behind me causes me to spin around, her obsidian hair swaying as she runs. Layne is quick, but she is no match for me. Before she can determine which way to go, my hand grabs her by the back of her neck.

“Ahh,” she cries out and her back connects with my chest.

I spin her to face me. All she can see is the zombie mask staring back at her. “You’re mine now, baby.” Her chest is heaves, out of breath from her sprint.

“Wha…what are you going to do to me?” her voice quakes with pretend fear.

My wife knows how to get me going. She claws at the mask, trying to rip it from my face. I take her down to the ground with ease and she lies squirming in between my thighs. I pull my mask up and lean down, licking up her neck. “Fuck, you taste so good, baby.” Layne bucks her hips, trying to get some friction on her throbbing clit.

My hands fumble with my belt, and as I am about to undo it, Layne bucks me off her. She takes off, banking toward the sound of rushing water. My frustration mounts and I take off after her. Panic sets in as I make it closer to the sound of the river. We’ve purposely stayed away because of Layne’s fear of water. My eyes dart back and forth, searching for her. A twinge of fear grows in the pit of my stomach.

“LAYNE!” I shout over the roar of the water beside me. I searched the riverbank and she was nowhere to be seen. Dread fills my thoughts and I begin to undress, ready to jump in the water to search for her.

“Wes?” Her voice echoes. My head snaps just upstream and she emerges from the forest. She’s okay.

I rush toward her, pulling her down to the ground. My lips kiss her feverishly, grateful she is okay. “I thought I lost you in the river,” tears pricked at the corner of my eyes, “I can’t do life without you, baby. Fuck.”

Layne kisses my neck, bringing her lips to my ear. “Fuck me, Wes. Show me how thankful you are that I am alive. Don’t hold back, I want you. Raw, primal, fucking feral.”

Opening the knife from my side, I cut through her flimsy nightdress. I flick it away with a quick, dismissive motion. As I flip her over, the smell of fresh soil fills the air, as her face presses against the earth. “Are you wet for me, Ma Petite Mort? I hope so, otherwise this will hurt.” I lean into her and bury myself inside her pussy. She is soaked. My wife loves when we fuck rough.

I gather her hands and hold them behind her back, using them as leverage to thrust inside her. “Fuck, Layne. So wet. So. Fucking. Tight.” She screams as my deep and merciless rhythm pushes her into the sod and rocks beneath her.

“Wes,” she pleads, her orgasm on the precipice of shattering her apart.

“Who?” I reply as I drive into her.

“Buainteoir!” she screams as her climax rips through her. Her walls clench around my cock, milking me of every drop of my release. I lay down on top of her back, still inside her. As I kiss her face, I feel the softness of her skin against my lips. “The thrill of chasing you, my love, I will never tire of. Whether it is through a forest in Scotland, or chasing you and our children around our home, the walls will echo with our playful screams. I’ll haunt you in the afterlife, my presence lingering in every corner of your existence. Our souls would haunt one another, connected for eternity.”

I help Layne up from the ground after pulling out of her. Our release runs down her thighs, and they glisten in the sunshine. She catches the hint of a smirk on my face. “What’s funny?” she asks as we walk down the bank of the river. I’m walking along the riverside, shielding her from the water’s edge. I take her hand in mine, bringing it to my lips. “Just wondering if this is going to be the time that gets you pregnant.”

We’ve yet to use any contraception, and in the past six and a half months, nothing. It wasn’t until a few months ago I started noticing Layne paying more attention to her cycles. I said nothing or pushed my want of children on her. I let her discover her desire to be a mother. When it hit her, it hit her like a freight train.

All it took was seeing Atlas’s newborn nephew at a barbecue and she was hooked. Before we took our trip, she was already planning the expansion to the loft. I know that someday soon Layne will carry our babies, changing our lives forever. While I am eager to grow our family, I’m not so eager that I want her to obsess over it. I still want to worship her body and keep her to myself for as long as I can.

I’ll never stop protecting her and our soon-to-be children, from the scourges of our city. Layne knows I don’t intend to stop, and she supports me one hundred percent. Our future is unknown, but I'm eagerly awaiting the unfolding of our story.

I belong to Ma Petite Mort, and she possesses me entirely. Even after death, our bond will remain unbroken and our love will continue to exist.

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