Page 27 of Bred By the Minotaur (DreamTogether Breeding Program #3)

Twenty-Four

Phoebe

Everything starts off sexy on our wedding night. Hank’s on top of me, his face buried between my legs, licking and sucking and sliding his fingers inside me, stroking and teasing until I’m a whining mess. And I don’t have to keep my noises down. He doesn’t have to gag me.

I can scream until I’m hoarse in a hotel room.

“I’ve wanted to do this for months,” Hank says, groaning as he palms his dick. He’s crouched on the bed with his tail flicking in the air behind him, hooves splayed. He returns to his work on my clit, ransacking it for my pleasure.

“Please,” I moan, grabbing his ears, his horns. “Fuck me!”

“But you haven’t come yet?—”

“I know!” I’m so horny I can barely take it. “Put your cock in me, please.”

He grins as he rises to his haunches. Hank’s unsteady at first, still working on that new leg strength, but finds his place with his hips wedged between my thighs. He drags his cock up and down, and I groan with irritation.

“You want it that bad, huh?” Hank leans down as that blunt head navigates inside me. “All right then. Wife .”

I moan as he pushes in, his velvety cock slipping through easily to where it belongs. Hank’s eyes practically roll back in his head.

“I like when you’re on top,” he says, withdrawing just enough that he can thrust back in. “But I missed this.”

I circle my arms around his neck. “I did, too.”

Hank lifts one of my thighs as he maintains a slow pace, his incredibly ripped abdomen flexing with every jerk of his hips. Sometimes I forget just how beautiful he is, how lucky I am to have him. And he’s mine now.

“Phoebe.” His hands encircle my belly as he fucks me in his own glorious, perfect rhythm. “I’m ready to have a family with you. To love you forever.”

I’m surprised when tears come to my eyes. I’ve never cried during sex before.

“I can’t wait,” I answer, and Hank leans down to kiss me.

That is, of course, when my first contraction hits.

Damn it. I didn’t get off, and now we’re speeding to the hospital. I called DreamTogether with my phone, explaining that I was in labor. Now Hank is driving me there, with Imelda and Milo coming later, and I hope we don’t totally fumble the ball.

We broke anonymity. What is DreamTogether going to do?

I’m led to a room and seen by the same doctor I’ve been visiting every few weeks, and he gives us an odd look as we sit down together.

“Boyfriend?” the doctor asks, eyeing Hank.

“The father,” I say. Then I hold out my hand, which now has a single small diamond in a gold setting. “And husband.”

“Hm.” The doctor stares at each of us in turn, then shakes his head. “I swear, this place.”

I don’t know what that means, but I’m quickly distracted by another contraction.

It goes on like that for hours, the pain growing intermittently worse as time wears on. Eventually, Milo shows up, and I’m relieved to see him. I need his happy, wild energy right now.

He sits on the hospital bed with me and shows me his latest artwork of Darla as an angel. I don’t know why he started drawing this, because Darla is fine and not anywhere near death, but he loves giving her wings and a halo.

Then the contractions get worse and more frequent, and much to his displeasure, Milo is led out of the room. Hank sits beside me and takes my hand, a mask stretched across his big muzzle.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Of course not. I never am.”

He strokes my hair. “It’ll be over soon.”

I know he’s wrong, but he’ll learn.

Hank

Watching Phoebe go through labor and give birth to our second son is definitely the worst experience I’ve had, and I’m not even the one doing the hard work.

Bringing a new life into the world? Check. Watching your wife scream and moan in pain? No thanks.

I feel like Phoebe spends more time assuring me that she’s fine than I spend comforting her. She just asks to hold my hand while she pushes, and her eyes screw up tight as she lets out a scream.

And then, after what feels like eons of pain, our wailing infant enters the world.

He’s smaller than I remember Milo being, with many more brown splotches than white, more like my mother. The nurse brings him to us, and Phoebe is gasping as the woman teaches her how to latch.

“I’ve never done this part before,” Phoebe says in wonder as our calf’s lips wrap around her nipple. The crying abruptly stops, and soon he settles into her arms, his eyes still closed.

I wonder if they’ll be blue or brown.

We whisper in quiet voices about names, eventually settling on Archie.

“Archie and Milo,” Phoebe says, petting some of Archie’s soft fur. “They could be their own team.”

“Maybe in tennis.”

I get up to bring in Milo and my mother, and Milo has clearly been told to behave himself because he moves slowly and talks quietly as he slips into the room.

“Hi, Mom,” he says, walking up to the hospital bed. He simply started calling her this about a month ago, and Phoebe only smiled when he did it. “Wow. The baby’s so small.”

“That’s right.” Her voice is sleepy but pleased. “He’s just little for now. But he’ll get big like you.”

“Cool.” Milo pets Archie’s tiny hoof. “Get big soon, okay? So we can play.”

I’m grateful to have them home again the next day, and now that I’m on my feet again, I can finally help out. But poor Phoebe. This birth wasn’t quite as easy as her last one. As tiny as Archie looks, he wasn’t tiny coming out, and she has hell to pay for it.

I think we’ll stop at two of them. I can’t watch her go through that again.

DreamTogether was not pleased that we had connected—and gotten married—while under contract. Deciding we both broke the agreement, they barred Phoebe from working for them again. Not that she planned to.

They still gave her the final payment, though, so I can’t be that mad about it.

Unlike Milo when he was a baby, Archie is a crier, keeping us up late at night.

All it takes, though, is hearing his squeal of laughter as his brother makes a peek-a-boo face, and I remember why I did this.

Sometimes I stand in the doorway to the nursery, simply watching while Phoebe holds Archie in her arms, nursing him.

Her eyes rise to mine and she smiles a whole, big, pure smile, like she has everything she ever wanted.

Milo is obsessed with his brother, so excited for him to grow up. He attempts to feed Archie, but after getting covered in sweet potato goo, he decides it isn’t for him.

It’s wonderful having Sandra around, who likes to simply hold the baby in her lap while the rest of us busy about.

Archie always calms down with her, like she cast a magic spell.

She’s knitted him plenty of adorable little outfits.

And I’m grateful every day for my mother, who slides in to take over with the kids when we need a break.

Unfortunately, I do have to go back to work after a few months of being home with my wife and kids. But I’m looking forward to it, to helping people and trying to save lives again.

Even though my schedule allows me to be up at night to take care of Archie, by the time he’s eight months old, we’ve both been run ragged. He’s finally nearing the end of the worst of it—hopefully, knock on wood—and the nights are getting better.

“Hello, Hank?”

Mom startles me out of a daze. I’m at the kitchen counter with a giant half-eaten carrot in one hand, simply staring at the wall.

“Wow,” she says, studying me. “Guess this couldn’t come soon enough.”

I blink away sleep. “What couldn’t?”

She holds out a packet. “Two tickets to the Bahamas. For you and Phoebe, from me and Sandra.”

I stare at her, then take the packet.

“What about Milo? And Archie?” I ask, hoarse with my budding excitement.

“We’re going to watch them for a few days. You two need to get away.”

I’ve never felt so relieved in my life. A few days away from the baby with just my wife? Fucking pinch me.

“Don’t worry,” Mom says before I get a chance to respond. “I cleared it with your boss before we got them.”

I hug her as tight as I can.

“Thank you, Mom. Thank you so much.”

I don’t need any more incentive than that to run to the office where Phoebe is working and surprise her with their gift.

“One week from now?” she asks, hesitating. “Maybe you got time off of work, but I’ll still have to call in.”

“You’ve been working your ass off since the fire, and you barely took any time off when Archie was born. They’ll survive without you for a week.”

She sighs and nods. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll let my boss know today. I have the vacation time saved up.”

I let her go so she can make her call, feeling lighter than I have in quite some time.

Phoebe

My house is almost done being rebuilt, so when I get back from our trip, it’ll be time to put it on the market. I’m strangely excited. Ever since the fire, that house has held nothing but bad memories for me, and I’m ready to move on.

The money will be a big bonus, too, and we can tuck it away in a retirement nest egg.

My heart tugs as we pack for our trip, thinking about being away from Archie and Milo.

Every day I feel more and more like Milo’s mother.

He snuggles up to me on the couch whenever we watch his favorite show, and hugs my legs when I come home.

I love him more than I thought I could ever love another person.

I understand now why Hank worked so hard to have him—his little laughs, and even his tears, fill my chest to bursting.

I just want to make all the hurt in the world go away, and make sure he has the best life possible.

And watching Archie go from crying infant to wiggly toddler has been a joy.

I adore how his eyes close when he breastfeeds, and his little hands curl into fists.

His tiny hooves are the cutest in the world, and even when he cries in the middle of the night, holding him brings me back to earth and soothes my soul.

But I know it’ll be good for us to get away, and I certainly could use the time alone with Hank. Our sex life has not been what it used to be since Archie was born, and I miss it.