Lost And Found: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  She purrs with pleasure. The mask working wonders as it also shields her from watching me.

  “I’ll be all wrinkly,” she tells me after a long soak, my own version of a facial cleanse and massage, plus my new found skill: the foot rub.

  “I like you wrinkly,” I tell her, kissing her toes before slipping my robe off and sliding in.

  There’s an overflow channel, so the house doesn’t flood, and flicking a switch I’ve never even used, I feel the surprise pressure of the Jacuzzi function.

  Tiny bubbles spray us under the water and Rachel sighs heavily, wanting to take her mask off.

  “Not yet,” I tell her, reaching over to my robe.

  “Just one more thing before you take that off.”

  “You’re full of surprises, Conor Fox,” she murmurs, sliding her foot up my thigh and resting it against my arousal. Making us both groan with pleasure.

  “You’re distracting me,” I tell her, reaching for her hand, opening the little velvet box in one hand, and feeling for the ring before I slip it over her finger.

  “What’s that?” she asks, before gasping again.

  “It’s a proposition,” I tell her, hearing my voice crack with emotion.

  “Like a business proposition?” she asks, starting to tremble.

  “More like a life proposition,” I reply.

  She lifts her mask up and her whole face is lit up with light from the shooting rays from the diamond.

  “Rachel, I love you and I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you. Will you just say yes?” I hear myself asking her.

  I had a whole speech planned, over dinner at the restaurant that’s booked solid for six months, but I managed to get us a table right by the window.

  But I can’t wait. I couldn’t wait another minute without asking her the question that’s burned inside me from the moment I laid eyes on her.

  She’s quiet.

  Speechless.

  “Will?” I ask her again. “Will you be my wife, Rachel?”

  “Yes,” she whispers at first, then repeats it over and over until I get the idea. Loud and clear.

  “Yes, yes, yes!”

  I seal the deal with a kiss, and before long we’ve forgotten all about dinner. The day and the night ahead are ours.

  And so is every day and night from now on.

  Rachel is mine.

  Forever.

  EPILOGUE

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  Rachel

  “Not again!” I moan loudly, loud enough so Conor can hear.

  “I’ve just cleaned up out here, and now you decide to make an appearance?” I chide Valentine, narrowing my eyes as he skulks across the freshly mopped floor with his muddy feet.

  Conor catches him before he can get to the rest of the house, closing the door and bending down to have a word in his ear.

  “It’s two days this time,” I tell him as if he needs reminding.

  I hate it when Valentine disappears like this. It worries us both sick.

  “I dunno boy, what are you up to?” Conor asks him. “Hmm?”

  He never gets mad at Valentine, and neither do I, usually. Unless he’s walking mud through the house.

  “I’ll get him cleaned up,” Conor says apologetically, making me feel like a tyrant.

  “We both will,” I offer, and Valentine smiles when he’s picked up, his daddy leading the way while he holds him in his arms, straight to the bath.

  “It’s weird,” Is all I can manage, sitting on the toilet lid while Conor dotes over Valentine, washing his paws clean again before we both dry him off.

  “I know, honey. He never used to roam, I swear. Since that one day he got out, it’s like he’s had ants in his pants.” Conor observes.

  “Has he been-?” I start to ask, Conor putting his hands over Valentine’s ears.

  “No! He hasn’t,” he adds with a whisper.

  “And he’s not gonna be either. All the Fox men of this house, wolf-dogs included are strong and virile. He’ll make a great dad one day,” Conor exclaims, making Valentine bark with agreement.

  I open my mouth to speak but close it again.

  Time and place, Rachel. Time and place.

  “You okay, sweetie?” Conor asks once we’re done drying Valentine off. He rushes for his mat, rolling on it and anything else he can find until he’s dry enough to go outside again to repeat the whole circus act.

  “I’m alright, just a little tired is all,” I tell him, really feeling it today.

  Mopping a floor and helping dry a dog isn’t hard work but I’m beat.

  “Maybe go lay down for a bit?” Conor suggests, holding his hands up in surrender straight away. “Alone if you want. I can leave you undisturbed for an hour or two. Maybe,” he grins, pecking my lips and asking me if I’m alright again until I shoo him away, back to his work.

  I’ll tell him after my nap.

  But my nap’s cut a little short. No problems falling asleep, feeling fatter and lazier than ever come second nature since moving in with Conor.

  My real problem? The bigger and lazier I get, the more he lusts after me. It’s like all he wants me to do is eat, sleep and make love.

  I’ve never felt bigger, but Conor just keeps telling me there’s more of me to love, and his own abilities in that department certainly haven’t waned, so I know he’s telling the truth.

  But it’s not that what’s woken me up. It’s that nausea again, and I rush to the bathroom, retching up nothing but feeling worse than when I laid down.

  “Uh, honey?” I hear Conor calling me from downstairs.

  “Honey?” he calls out louder, making me rush to get myself cleaned up, brushing my teeth and straightening my hair before I head down to him.

  I grip the banister all the way down, feeling lightheaded.

  Maybe I had some bad food, but the sushi last night didn’t give Conor any trouble.

  I’m not sure what could make Conor call me down so urgently, he usually always lets me sleep however late and as much as I want.

  Through the glass doors to the kitchen, I get an instant answer.

  I rub my eyes, sure I’m hallucinating.

  Valentine’s been out again by the looks, but he’s brought back something.

  Some things, I should say.

  I feel my jaw drop, and go into the kitchen, hooking my arm around Conor’s waist as he counts them off, one by one as Valentine stands guard by the open back door.

  “…Five… and six,” Conor says, finishing the count, but we both look startled once we see number seven.

  The mommy of all those puppies. Hardly a wolf-dog herself, more of a mixture of breeds.

  Six little look-alike wolfish puppies though, and all looking just like their proud daddy, Valentine.

  I do feel faint, and I try to tell Conor as much before the room goes sideways.

  He catches me out of reflex, and Valentine rushes over too, they both help me to the couch by the window.

  I turn my head, watching the puppies settling down to feed from their momma as she makes herself at home on Valentine’s mat. Valentine licking my face, full of concern before I see Conor’s face hovering over me.

  “What is it, baby? Is it the shock of so many animals? We don’t have to keep them all,” he says and I smile when I hear Valentine growl from behind his master.

  “Yeah, we do,” I smile faintly, gripping Conor’s hand and pat it gently with mine.

  “I just got up to fast, I’ll be alright. Go make sure those puppies are alright, will ya,” I urge him as I struggle to sit myself up, leaning on an elbow.

  Conor gets me some water and leaving the pups to their own devices, he props my head up on his lap, stroking my hair, making me feel better straight away.

  “We can’t have six, seven. Eight dogs though, Rachel. We just can’t!” he exclaims again, making me laugh.

  “Why not?” I ask, look at how proud Valentine is. “You did say the men of the Fox house were virile and
strong, didn’t you?” I tease him, laughing when I see him blush.

  “No need to remind me of what I said,” he groans, looking from me to the pups and then to Valentine, who’s taking care of momma now. Licking her face and grooming her until they both curl up.

  All six babies curled up with them like a strange doggy puzzle that has all the pieces fit back together again.

  “They are cute,” Conor says finally, his mood softening. I can almost hear him thinking about what to name them all.

  “It would explain a lot too, where he’s been going all this time. I think he was looking for a mate.”

  I take his hand in mine again, bringing it down to my belly, feeling better once it’s there.

  “Conor?” I ask him, not looking up, but looking at his huge hand instead, picturing him holding a different kind of baby.

  “Do you think you’ve found your mate?” I ask him, pressing his hand on my belly firmly.

  “You know I have, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss me, stopping once our eyes meet, my face uncertain.

  “You mean?” he asks innocently, making me wonder if the man knows anything about how babies are even made.

  I nod slowly. “That’s right. We’re gonna have our own little wolf, how do you think he’ll get along with all those puppies?” I ask him.

  But he’s speechless, a line of silver at the edge of one of his eyes.

  “I’m gonna be a daddy?” he says before he asks, “He? How do you know?”

  “Isn’t that what the little blue plus sign means on the test?” I ask him.

  I try to keep a straight face, and I almost have him, but we both burst out laughing.

  Overjoyed at our own little family on the way.

  “I’ll make an appointment, we’ll go see the best doctors,” he promises.

  “Maybe call the store first, honey,” I remind him, glancing over at our most immediate brood.

  “There’s one new momma to feed, and by the looks, it won’t be long before all those puppies are gonna want some real food,” I observe.

  “Spoken like a true queen,” Conor says, kissing me.

  “I love you, baby,” he adds, and then kissing my belly, he says it again. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Conor. Just remember that.”

  EXTENDED EPILOGUE

  TWO YEARS LATER

  Conor

  “Honey? We’ll be late.” I call up to her, not really minding but the kids have just gone down and the dogs have finally settled too.

  “You sure you’re okay with this?” I ask her dad, my dad now too, by default since I married his only daughter last year.

  “Will you stop babying me,” David says, lowering his voice like an old mother hen.

  “I got the restaurant’s number and both your cells, if anything happens I can’t handle you’ll be the first to know,” he says with a firm grip on my shoulder.

  “Now, go out and have yourselves a night off without the kids for once, will ya? You owe her that much at least,” he quips, giving me a sly wink as we hear her coming down the stairs.

  The limo’s waiting, but that’s what they get paid for and our reservation is still good, a window table anytime we want. Booked six months in advance.

  But it’s the sight of her coming down those stairs that has us both spellbound.

  She’s got on a long sleeveless dress I’ve never seen before, it shows all her curves and as much of her chest as I’ll allow in public.

  She has on the pearls I gave her on our honeymoon. My god, she’s beautiful.

  I’ve never seen her look more beautiful, and her dad butts in, beating me to it when he tells her so too.

  “Hey, hands off my wife,” I tease him, nudging him out of the way, slipping him a twenty.

  “Here, order a pizza if you get hungry, and don’t drink the liquor, I mark the bottles ya know,” I warn him.

  Rachel laughs softly and kisses her dad on the cheek.

  “Don’t mind him, Dad. He’s just scared he’ll actually have to sit still for a few hours and watch a show before having dinner. And we don’t keep liquor in the house,” she whispers to him, making him smile.

  “I know honey, now go have a nice time, won’t you?”

  He sees us off out the front door, and I can’t tell who’s more nervous Rachel or me.

  It’s only been a couple of years, and how they’ve flown by.

  “Are you sure they-”

  “Did I remember to-”

  “Maybe I should just make sure-”

  “Will you stop it, Conor,” she finally says once we’re in the car. Too late to turn back.

  “You’re making me nervous now just cut it out. Dad’s fine with them all, you know he is. Geez, he’s around most days isn’t he?” she asks me rolling her eyes.

  I know she’s right, but it feels so odd even just leaving them for a few hours.

  “Hey,” she reminds me gently. “It’s our Valentine’s anniversary remember and I want us to enjoy it, okay?”

  “Alright,” I agree, feeling myself relax only once she does.

  The babies are never far from our minds, little Jessica the youngest and her older brother Luke. But an early show and a special dinner together, it’s like the first date we never really had.

  “You think we could, y’know? Do this more often?” I ask her on the way home.

  “Let’s just see how your dad coped, shall we,” she says optimistically.

  “My dad?” I ask her. “Why is it whenever something might go wrong he’s my dad?” I ask, making us both chuckle.

  “I had a great time, Conor,” she says truthfully, leaning into me on the ride home.

  “I could get him to circle around the block?” I tell her, noting the privacy screen.

  “Maybe next time, I’m beat,” she says with a yawn. I check my watch, wishing I’d checked in at least once.

  Like David said though, if anything wasn’t going to plan, he’d let us know.

  Let me know, those were his instructions.

  I hear my breath catch as I see some vans pull away just as we turn the corner for home.

  “Honey, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” she asks, rubbing my leg and letting her hand ride a little higher. Telling me she might be feeling a little less bushed after all.

  I growl gently in reply and kiss her neck. The driver only coming around to open her door once I let the privacy screen down.

  Stepping out of the limo, I say goodnight to our driver, asking Rachel if maybe she’d like a turn around the block.

  “Conor, what is going on?” she finally asks. “Half the night you’ve been trying to get me to go here or there. What have you been up to?” she asks, cocking her brow and snuggling up closer to me.

  She always knows when I’m planning something, it’s so hard to keep anything a secret.

  But I hope tonight’s been worth it.

  “We will do this more often,” I promise her, meaning I haven’t just invented our anniversary to get us out of the house.

  Not exactly.

  Stepping inside I see the sitting room door is ajar, a light on.

  The hallway and kitchen are all dark.

  I get the faintest hint of new carpet, maybe a teensy smell of paint. But it’s nothing major.

  Rachel doesn’t seem to notice, creeping into our own house like we’re a pair of teenagers.

  “Why’s it so dark?” she whispers. “We’re not that late.”

  The hallway brightens behind us, and her dad creeps out, tiptoeing as I flick the hallway light on.

  He gives me a thumbs-up, which Rachel catches too.

  “Alright you two, what’s going on?” she demands, both hands on her hips.

  I shrug towards David, letting him know the game’s up.

  “It’s nothing, sweetie. Just a little redecorating while you were out. The babies are asleep by the way,” he says with a wink.

  “And Valentine?” I ask him, noting hi
s head jutting toward the rear of the house.

  “Well, let’s go take a look,” I suggest, taking my wife’s hand and opening the kitchen door, reaching for the switch to find it’s moved.

  An automated light pulses to life, illuminating our new kitchen/sunroom area, purpose built for all things baby.

  Rachel gasps impressed. She ooh’s and ah’s at the new layout, modern finish, and fixtures, as well as all the latest appliances.

  “You made your life down here a lot easier, didn’t you?” she jokes but meaning it. I spend all the time I can making our meals and preparing things for the babies.

  Anything to make Rachel’s job as Mommy easier.

  “Did you change this too?” she asks, finding the newly changed door.

  “Push the button and see,” I suggest, amazed I was able to keep this one a surprise since I had it installed while we were away this last week.

  The heavy wood door slides to one side.

  “A closet?” Rachel guesses, and I move over to it, taking her hand as we step inside.

  “First floor, Babywear, pet supplies, and office,” I announce, hitting the panel with a selection of buttons.

  “Going up to the second floor, Nursery, mommy and daddy’s room, bathroom and playroom.”

  Rachel covers her mouth, figuring out it’s the best kind of closet.

  But I’m taking us up to the third floor.

  Rachel’s floor.

  The elevator stops and the door slides open silently.

  “Third floor, Rachel’s studio. Garden and rooftop access. A little world away from the world where you can invite I dunno, your husband?” I whisper in her ear, guiding her through the newly renovated rooms.

  There’s her office slash studio. I know she’s been wanting to write and pen some kind of book.

  An indoor greenhouse, which has stairs leading up to the roof where my old observatory sits, next in line for a renovation. Or maybe a pool. That’s up to Rachel.

  “It’s beautiful,” she stammers, taking it all in with long, steps before we walk up the spiral stairs to the rooftop, looking out over the city at night.

  “It’s a start,” I tell her. “Your space, you can do whatever you want with it,” I tell her. Knowing it’ll probably be filled with kids and dogs before too long, but that’s up to her.