Page 27 of Kingpin's Baby

“Daddy, where are my socks?”

I look up as our eldest child, Justine, bursts through the door.

“In your sock drawer, little one?” I quirk an eyebrow up.

Her mouth goes into a flat line. “You’re so basic. I’ve looked there.”

“It is a good place to find socks.”

“I mean mypinksocks.” She scowls, looking particularly adorable.

“Come here.”

For such a small creature barefoot on a deep carpet, Justine is astonishingly noisy. It’s sweet really. Our youngest daughter, Marie, is a mouse. More similar to Ren.

Justine huffs as I scoot my chair back and tap my knees. But she knows the deal, sitting across my lap and accepting her cuddle with all the grace of a disgruntled badger.

One day, Justine will help me with the Fulham mafia. Maybe she’ll take it over. I like that idea. She’s feisty, our first-born. She’ll understand the death-or-donuts game, I’m certain.

“Daddeeeeey,” Justine complains when my hug goes on for too long. By which she means, more than three seconds.

I sigh. There are only two ways to get a decent cuddle around here, and neither my wife nor our newborn baby are in this room. “Alright, let’s search for these socks.”

Justine scrambles off my lap and gallops out of the office like a miniature hippo, and I follow behind. We’ve made some adjustments since starting our family. One of those is that our apartment now encompasses the floor that used to be my office, meaning the kids can come and get me anytime I’m working on day-to-day stuff. If I’m downstairs in one of the reception rooms, that’s where they’re strictly banned.

No death for the babies. Not even seeing threats of it. I don’t forget that rule.

Probably I ought to sort through the washing basket or something, but I head for the lounge, where there are giggles and shouts. Unlike our eldest daughter, I can be stealthy. I pause in the doorway.

Ren is sitting on the floor, our youngest son in a sling, crashed out on her chest. She’s leaning against the sofa, and our two toddlers are in baskets, also fast asleep. Elodie, Clement,Lucas, and Delphine are gathered around a board game, focussed intently.

“Are you sure that’s within the rules?” Lucas, our eldest boy, says. He’s seven, and as serious as Justine is bright. He loves rules. I think he’ll be horrified when he’s older and knows how flexible I am with the law.

“’Tis so,” replies Elodie.

Watching them, all healthy and happy and squabbling makes my chest ache with contentment.

My gaze flicks back to Ren as she leans on the squishy edge of the sofa. A glimpse of Ren’s belly, and my cock stirs.

My wife is five months pregnant, and as ripe, sweet, and perfect as a late summer plum. She’s curvier than when we met, and I adore her even more. There’s no limit to my love for her, and my family.

As though she feels my regard, Ren looks over. Our gazes meet, and I lazily drag mine down her body, then up to her eyes, making my thoughts very clear.

Both of us find Ren being pregnant—and my breeding her—the ultimate aphrodisiac.

“I love you,” I mouth.

“I love you, too,” she mouths back.

“And I’m going to breed you,” I add silently.

Her grin is positively wicked.

“Daddy!” Justine’s cry sounds behind me. “Did you find my socks?”