Page 13 of Fixed (Spicy Bites #2)

FRANKIE

Three Years Later

I wake up alone in bed and realize something’s missing. Something’s wrong. I roll to my right, reach for Seth’s heat, and instead find a ghost impression in the pillow and the sharp, unfamiliar chill of freshly laundered sheets. The clock on the dresser reads three-fourteen a.m.

I grab my phone and pull up the baby monitor app.

I flick through the cameras and find Seth in our three-month-old’s room, all six foot three of him crammed into the too-small rocking chair, one hand cradling Owen like he’s made of spun glass.

The other hand runs slow circles over the baby’s head, while his mouth moves, low and careful.

Owen kicks his feet and shakes his hands while Seth rocks him a little harder. His biceps flex, straining the sleeves of the ancient “Texans” t-shirt he’s wearing. As he rocks, the wailing softens into a snuffly, wheezy hiccup.

Seth waits a few minutes after the baby’s eyes slide shut before he stands up, gently placing him back in his crib. He takes a moment to tuck the blanket tight around Owen’s legs, then tiptoes out, closing the door without a sound.

I put the monitor down and count the seconds. I’m throbbing already, my pussy slick and aching.

Seth walks quietly into our dark room and peels off his shirt. The muscles in his chest ripple as he tosses it aside, and I groan.

“Thought you’d be asleep,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down my spine.

“Can’t sleep without you,” I breathe, my voice trembling with need. Three years, and I still crave him like an addict. These feelings haven’t lessened at all. In fact, they’ve gotten stronger, the fire between us burning hotter every damn day.

He smirks, that devilish grin that makes my knees weak, and climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. His scent hits me, and my pussy clenches, begging for him.

“Fuck, I love you,” he growls, his fingers grazing my thigh as he leans over me. His breath is hot against my neck, and I arch into him, desperate for his touch.

“And I love you,” I whisper, reaching up to tug at the waistband of his sweatpants. He doesn’t stop me, just watches with those dark, hungry eyes as I pull them down, revealing the thick, veiny cock that’s already hard and leaking for me.

I wrap my hand around him, feeling the heat and the pulse of his heartbeat under my palm. He’s so big, so perfect, and all freaking mine.

Seth lets out a low groan as I stroke him, his hand tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer. “Show me how much,” he mutters, his lips brushing against mine.

I press a kiss to his jaw before moving lower, tasting the salt on his skin as I trail my mouth down his chest. His muscles tense under my tongue, and when I finally wrap my lips around the head of his cock, he lets out a guttural noise that sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my clit.

I take him deeper, savoring the way he fills my mouth. His hand tightens in my hair, guiding me as I suck him, my tongue swirling around his shaft as I work him closer to the edge.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his hips jerking as I swallow him down, my throat working to take every inch. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

I hum around him, the vibrations making him curse and thrust harder, until he’s fucking my mouth, his cock hitting the back of my throat with every stroke. I can feel him getting closer, his balls tightening, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and I know I’m about to lose control.

But he pulls away before he comes, yanking me up by my hair and crushing his lips to mine. The kiss is fierce, desperate, his tongue tangling with mine as he pins me to the bed, his cock grinding against my thigh.

“I need to be inside you,” he growls, his voice rough with need.

“Nothing’s stopping you,” I whisper, spreading my legs wide, inviting him in.

He doesn’t hesitate, lining himself up with my dripping opening and thrusting into me in one fluid motion. I cry out, my nails digging into his back as he fills me completely, stretching me until I see stars.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips slamming into mine as he starts to move, each thrust driving me closer to the edge.

“Harder,” I beg, my legs wrapping around his waist as I meet him stroke for stroke. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with our moans.

He grabs my hips, pulling me closer, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside me that drives me wild. My back arches off the bed as he pounds into me, my pussy clenching tight around him.

“You’re gonna come for me,” he demands, his voice harsh with need.

“Only if you do, too,” I gasp, clenching my inner muscles tightly around him.

He lets out a guttural roar, his hips stuttering as he comes, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me with his hot, sticky cum. The sensation sends me over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me like a massive tidal wave as I scream his name.

He collapses on top of me, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. His cock is still inside me, softening slowly, and I can feel his cum leaking out of me.

“I’m betting I just knocked your gorgeous ass up again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. Happiness flows through me at the thought of having another child with him.

“We can hope,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him.

The dawn breaks with a shriek so high-pitched it could crack a wine glass at forty paces.

“Mommy! I up!”

This is how our typical day starts—with a full-throttle, toddler-powered missile launching herself at me.

She’s two years old, already smarter than me, and currently wearing nothing but an inside-out Frozen pajama top, a single purple sock, and a diaper so full it’s slumped halfway to her knees.

Her bunny dangles from one hand, ears gnawed down to uneven stubs.

“Uh,” I exhale, because words are hard at six-oh-three a.m., and Seth is dead to the world. He doesn’t even twitch when Molly lands square on his ribcage.

“Daddy!” Molly squeals, bouncing on his chest like a demented rodeo clown. “Wake up! It’s pancakes day!”

Seth groans and rolls over, dragging the kid with him in a single, practiced motion. She giggles, delighted, and immediately starts pulling his eyelids open with her tiny fingers.

I contemplate pretending to be asleep, but the moment I close my eyes, I hear the baby monitor crackle with a low, rhythmic snort that means Owen is seconds from reaching fever pitch.

I sigh, throw my legs over the side of the bed, and stagger down the hall to his nursery, one hand on the wall for balance.

Owen greets me with a look of pure betrayal.

How dare you let me cry for almost thirty seconds, you absolute monster.

He’s got Seth’s eyes and my nose, and he’s only three months old but already looks like a chubby little tank.

I scoop him up, bouncing him once before carrying him over to the changing table.

After changing his diaper, I bring Owen into the living room and park him in his swing before heading to make my first cup of coffee.

Meanwhile, Seth is in the kitchen, holding Molly upside-down by her ankles while she screeches with laughter. “What’s the password, small gremlin?” he rumbles, swinging her gently back and forth over the island.

Molly considers this. “Please, pancakes, Daddy, please-please-please!”

Seth rights her, sets her on the counter, and hands her a whisk.

“Atta girl.” He kisses her forehead, which she returns by planting a sticky handprint on his jaw.

He starts the pancake batter, cracking eggs with a single, one-handed flourish.

It’s unfair how hot he is, even in stained sweatpants and a t-shirt that reads, YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO. YOU’RE NOT MY DAUGHTER.

While Seth heats up the griddle, Molly grabs her tablet and presses the screen a few times, bringing up her favorite cartoon. Then he helps her pour the batter into little dinosaur-shaped molds. What they end up making somewhat resembles a dinosaur if you squint your eyes really hard.

While they work in the kitchen, I head back to the living room with my coffee. I sit back on the sofa and feed Owen, letting the caffeine do its job. Once he’s finished, I burp him and walk into the kitchen to refill my coffee cup.

All is calm and quiet until Molly starts screaming “Gamma!” at the top of her lungs. Seth grabs the tablet off the counter, checks the screen, and frowns as he hits “accept.”

“Good morning, sweetpea!” My mother’s smiling face appears on the screen.

Molly climbs into Seth’s lap, clutching her bunny, and waves at the laptop screen. “Hi, Gamma! Hi, Gampa! I made a pancake dinosaur and he’s gonna eat the world!” She jams a syrup-soaked pancake chunk right up to the camera. “SEE?”

Dad lets out a real laugh, sharp and unfiltered. “Looks delicious, pumpkin. You did a wonderful job.”

I shoot a glance at Seth, who’s fighting a smile.

“We can’t wait to see you at the lake house next weekend,” Mom chimes in, which is her way of reminding me we promised to spend the whole weekend at their vacation place.

Things have changed so much in the last three years. At first, my parents were pissed when we did a quickie courthouse wedding instead of a big fancy thing. Then I got pregnant, and their attitudes started shifting.

The day Molly was born, I saw a whole new side of my parents. An actual human side. My mother cried, seriously cried, the first time she held Molly.

Now, things are a thousand times better with them. Don’t get me wrong—they’re still self-obsessed and impossible to take in large doses. But they’ve accepted my life choices.

Now that they’ve stopped trying to control me, they have the time and energy to torture my brother. My mother’s new pet project is finding my brother the perfect political wife. Poor Ben. I almost feel bad for him.

“Is Ben bringing his new girlfriend next weekend? I’m dying to meet her.” And watch my brother squirm for once.

“He is.” My mother practically vibrates with excitement. “I want everything to be perfect. Do you have time to go over the plans with me?” Leave it to my mother to plan a family vacation down to the nth degree.

“Sure,” I tell her, and watch as Seth cleans up Molly’s hands. While I get out my notebook to take notes, my husband settles Molly on the sofa with her favorite cartoon playing on the large screen television and places Owen in the swing so he can clean the kitchen.

By the time I end my call, both kids are sound asleep, which gives me a bright idea.

I find Seth in the laundry room sorting a load of laundry.

My husband’s back is to me, and I nearly drool watching his delicious ass move in those gray sweatpants.

I can’t help but bite my lip as I watch him bend over the washing machine, shoving a tangled mess of clothes inside. “Hey,” I whisper as I walk over to him.

“Get everything planned for next weekend?” he asks, his voice low and distracted. He turns and pulls me into his arms, and I can feel his hardness pressing into my stomach.

My hands slide around his waist, my fingers gripping the soft fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath it. As I press my body against his, my tits squish against his chest, and my nipples harden instantly. “I did,” I murmur, my breath hot against his neck.

But I’m not here to talk about weekend plans.

My hand drifts lower, sliding down the front of his body, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen until I reach the waistband of his sweatpants.

I don’t hesitate. My fingers slip beneath the fabric and find he’s already hard.

His cock throbs against my palm, hot and eager as I give it a firm squeeze. A low groan escapes his lips.

“The kids are down for the count,” I whisper, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against his jaw. My hand moves with purpose now, stroking him through his sweatpants, teasing the length of his cock until he’s practically panting. “And I want to suck your cock until you see stars.”

He groans again, louder this time, and leans back against the washing machine, his hips thrusting into my hand. “Fuck. That sounds good to me,” he growls, his voice thick with desire.

I drop to my knees in front of him. The tile is cold and unforgiving against my skin, but I don’t care.

My focus is entirely on my husband and the way his cock strains against his sweatpants, begging for release.

I hook my fingers into the waistband and pull them down slowly, revealing the full length of him.

Damn. He’s perfect. Thick and veiny, his cock juts out from a thatch of dark hair, the tip already glistening with wetness. I lick my lips, my mouth watering at the sight of him. I don’t waste time.

My hand wraps around the base of his shaft, squeezing gently, and my tongue darts out to swipe across the tip, causing his hips to jerk forward.

I close my lips around it and take him deep as I suck him hard.

My tongue swirls around the head, teasing the sensitive underside, and his hands fist in my hair, pulling me closer.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his voice strained. “You’re so good at that. ”

I hum in response, the vibration making him shudder.

My hand joins in, stroking what I can’t fit in my mouth, my fingers squeezing and twisting in time with my sucking.

His cock pulses in my mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and I know he’s close.

I can feel it in the way his thighs tense, in the way his grip tightens in my hair.

Then there’s a loud cry from the living room. Freaking hell. I groan and release his cock. Seth sags against the washing machine, his chest rising and falling as he fights to catch his breath. “Your son has the worst fucking timing,” he groans.

“Oops.” I sit back on my heels and glance up into his amused eyes, knowing that if one of the kids is up, the other one will follow. He hurriedly pulls up his sweatpants and, sure enough, the door flies open and Molly rushes in holding her poor, mangled little bunny.

“Mommy, why you on the floor?” she asks, her big blue eyes wide with curiosity.

“I was helping Daddy look for a sock he dropped.” I blurt out the first thing that pops into my mind.

“Okay.” She accepts my explanation with a shrug before complaining, “Owen poopied his pants and it tinks.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Seth mutters as he helps me to my feet. “Can I have a raincheck?” He gives me a look full of heat and places a soft kiss on my lips.

“It’s a date.” I laugh as he walks out of the room to take care of our screaming son.

“Come on, squirt.” I take Molly’s hand and lead her out to the living room. “Let’s go see if we can help Daddy with the mess.”

Our life is a little crazy and a whole lot messy, but I couldn’t be happier.

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