Page 89 of Masks and Mishaps

At the mention of Everett’s name, Pierre hops up with excitement and scurries over to Dalton.

“Yeah, I’ll take you to see your best bud,” Dalton agrees before putting the bottle back.

“Wait,” I say, getting to my feet. I go over to him. “Will I see you later?”

Dalton inhales through his teeth. “It’s risky,” he mentions.

I know, but… “Please? You could do whatever you want. Tie me up and fuck me down, Daddy? Breed me?”

Dalton glances over my shoulder to make sure our friends aren’t listening before he says, “I know you’re joking, but fuck, Essie, I’ve pictured you pregnant with my babies hundreds—if notthousands—of times.”

It’s a thought I’ve never explored, which seems unbelievable now. Would I ever let Dalton put a baby in me? “Oh. Does that turn you on?”

He’s quiet for a beat, brow tense, before he nods—it does. “It’s not just about breeding your tight, perfect body.” His expression is earnest now. “It’s the idea of taking care of you. Not only you, but our kids too. I want to get you—likereallyget you. Same for our kids. I’d never try to make them into someone they’re not.”

Our kids. “Wow,” I murmur. “Dalt, have you thought about this a lot?”

He raises his shoulder, and the gesture is disarmingly casual. “I would have given all of you the entire world,” he replies in lieu of saying yes. He forces a smile before he says, “Hey, ladies—great meeting. You should table the topic of revenue and roll it over to next week’s agenda. I won’t be there, but you’ve got it under control.” He waves before he leaves with Pierre trotting closely behind.

I return to my chair, brow furrowed while Cora murmurs, “He’s so funny. He knows there’s nothing we can do about the site.”

But I don’t respond.

I’m staring at the door, and reality just hit me.He won’t be there.

At some point, Dalton stopped trying to make me love him. The comments stopped. The longing stares subsided. I thought he gave up this notion of forever—like I had.

But he never gave anything up. He’d been nurturing these fantasies: the life we would never have together in all its tangible and yet fleeting forms. A marriage. Our children. Daltonthought about them. Planned them.

He hid those dreams from me. He hid themforme.

And he’s not going to try to keep me.

After this weekend, we’re actually done.

Thirty-One

DALTON

Theminutesareburninglike cheap, pastel birthday candles, and I haven’t been able to touch Essie once since we got here.

I need it.Sheneeds it. If I don’t get to have her one last time, I’m not going to survive.

I don’t give a fuck how risky this is.

It’s the night before Thanksgiving, and Essie is asleep. She’s a heavy sleeper, and I suckle her nipple for a minute and a half before she rouses awake and murmurs, “Daddy?”

“Shh, sweetheart,” I soothe before I tug down her shirt, covering her exposed breasts. “Put on something pretty for me. Let’s go.”

Minutes later, her face is alight with intrigue as I lead her through the dark hallways on the other side of the estate. “What are we doing in the library?” she asks.

“Sit,” I instruct. “I have a present for you—something I made. Lander helped.”

Beaming, Essie takes the lid off the black box I handed her—and her smile quickly flips to confusion. “These are your dicks,” she comments while looking at the two colossal emerald green dildos in the box.

“You can tell?”

“I know this dick like the back of my…” She glances at her own hand. “…Like my entire arm. Sorry—Lander helped you make these?”

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