Tasha
6 months later
L ucy’s performance in the community play as a sheep is adorable. She bleats loudly, spins in a circle, as if chasing her tail, and tries to eat the puffballs of wool glued to her costume. Adorable chaos.
I’d be lying if I said I made her costume. Brann sat up with her every night, gluing and sewing the wooly puffballs and floppy ears together. He even borrowed a bejeweling device and made her sheep a jeweled collar, which I will probably never get her to take off.
Sitting in the audience, Brann next to me, his hand on my belly in that possessive way of his, is a moment of pure surrealness. Some days, I still wonder how I got here, but then I shift, trying to make my hips more comfortable, and when I twist and make eye contact with Brann’s golden eyes, I remember.
Sex with one’s boss before starting a new job seems like a fatal mistake for said job. But the rollercoaster got me what I never dreamed I could have—a growing family.
Applause goes up at the end of the play. I jump to my feet, forgetting that jumping is a bad idea as of three weeks ago. Gravity tugs on my bladder as I stand there, clapping and hooting at the top of my lungs for the magical farm animals, particularly a little sheep with a jeweled collar.
“Bathroom,” I whisper once people mill about. “Catch Lucy,” I say, knowing the words aren’t necessary.
“On it,” is the instant reply as he walks toward the stage, toward my daughter. No, our daughter. The mental correction makes my heart so light, even as I’m slightly panicked I won’t make it to the bathroom in time. Orc babies grow fast; this one promises to be big and strong, just like his dad.
When I return from relieving the pressure the baby was putting on my bladder, Brann has Lucy and her things all packed up. The way his eyes light up when he sees me makes my heart flutter. The baby kicks against my ribs, as if sensing his family is reunited, even if we were only apart for minutes.
“Let’s go home,” Brann says, Lucy in one arm, her backpack in the other.
Brann has transformed our little yellow cottage. After two months of back and forth, the three of us splitting our time between the two homes, Brann offered to sell his place and move in with us in our little rental. Lucy was beside herself with excitement. She’d latched onto the yellow cottage much the same way she had to Brann when she first met him. No one can deny she has great taste.
They decorated her room, not only painting it pink, but adding a mural of a fairyland to the wall over her bed. The silk butterflies are there, and he built a bookshelf and desk just for her. Her room is by far the most magical room in the house.
Though the cottage seems small for an orc as large as Brann, he has made himself at home and not complained at any part of our tiny space together...except for demanding a larger bed for the two of us.
When we pull into our driveway, Lucy squeals at the number of cars parked on the street outside our home. “A party!” I love how she doesn’t need a reason or explanation, or even to know who the cars belong to. She unbuckles and leaps out of the car, running as fast as her half-wooly legs can carry her. I, on the other hand, am much slower.
“This is a lot of people,” I say, feeling self-conscious. Not that I don’t know everyone here, but opening our tiny cottage home to our friends and Brann’s family feels very...domestic and real.
It might seem silly to have a party to celebrate Lucy’s sheep role in the magical farm animal community play, but it’s never silly to celebrate the people you love. When I finally make it to the kitchen, Rvorick has Lucy in his arms, and though I can’t hear his words, I can tell by his face he is telling her how much he loved her performance.
Brann’s arms snake around my waist, or what used to be my waist, and I lean into him, loving how strong he feels against me. “You know,” he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling the tiny hairs on my neck. “We should kick everyone out and have our own celebration. You are more gorgeous each and every day. Watching you care for our child, watching our unborn child stretch your body, both turn me on. I’ve never been more in love with you than I am right now.” He nips my ear to punctuate his statement.
Leaning harder into him so I can look up into his eyes better, I say, “You’d better lay off the nipping and sweet statements. I don’t need your brothers and father and our co-workers scenting how turned on I am at our daughter’s party.” Despite the smile on my face, my cheeks heat as I say the words, knowing that if I say them aloud, it’s probably too late. I’ll have to spend the rest of the party trying to avoid direct eye contact with everyone. Great.
“Tasha!” Poppy hollers my name as she comes at me for a hug. Brann quickly lets go of me and moves out of the way. Poppy and I bump bellies, then hug, laughing. “You look amazing today. That dress hugs your curves so well.” She’s all smiles as she inspects the floral wrap-around dress I’m wearing. A quick dart of my eyes to Brann, and he nods his head in agreement, then fans himself, as if I’ve made him hot. Flattered, and oddly once again turned on, I turn my attention back to Poppy.
“I’m so glad you made it. How are you feeling?” Poppy and I get cups of cider and head out into the crisp air, waving at the community that we’ve formed, who all adore my daughter. She rattles off the latest from her doctor’s appointment, and we share notes on what’s working for heartburn.
“August is starting a book club. She wanted me to invite you to it. She had to work today, but I recorded the performance for her.”
“Book club sounds so fun! Hopefully, it’s less competitive than trivia night.” At that, we both laugh.
L ater that night, after all the sugar, a bath to get her stage make-up off, and lots of recounting her performance and the whole story, Lucy’s finally tucked into bed. Once Brann starts their bedtime story and she stops squirming, she’s instantly asleep.
“What a day,” I say, yawning as I sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing lotion into my hands, trying to stay vertical for just a few more minutes for Poppy’s heartburn solution to kick in, and for the baby to settle down for the night. There’s nothing worse than closing my eyes, ready for sleep, only to be pummeled awake by the baby having a party.
“She’s such a firecracker, just like her mother. I love her so much,” Brann says, crawling across the huge bed he insisted upon, even though it takes up the entire bedroom. He sits behind me, his legs extended out past mine. A hand appears, palm up. I squirt some lotion into it.
Without my asking, he tugs my pajama shirt up and slathers my taut belly with the lotion. It’s cool and soothing. The cooler weather has made my skin drier, and combined with our growing child, my stomach itches non-stop. The lotion, combined with his powerful hands massaging, relaxes both me and the baby.
It doesn’t take long for me to end up propped up on my back with Brann massaging other parts of my body.
Brann
E very day is a dream with Tasha and Lucy. As I add more lotion to my hands, warming it before I touch her sweet skin again, I thank my lucky stars that my bull-headedness about fated mates didn’t keep me from making an utter fool of myself when I fell hard for my employee.
Tasha hisses when I twist her nipples. Gods, I love how overly sensitive she is now. Gentle kisses down the line that’s emerged on her stomach, pointing the way south from her flattened belly button to her mound.
Inhaling her scent deeply, it’s imprinted on my soul. Her taste is imprinted on my tongue. Slowly, I bring pleasure to Tasha. It’s almost lazy, not in my ministrations, but in how each lick, nip, suckle seems to be magnified in her new body. A breath of cool air over her clit causes goose pricks along the meaty flesh of her thighs. Rubbing my hands up her inner thighs, then massaging outward and down the outsides of them makes her moan.
“You know, when you’re no longer pregnant, I’m going to have to work doubly hard to get the same reaction out of you.” She huffs a laugh, then demands more. I comply, happily.
She’s on the edge as my tongue spells out words of love and adoration on her clit. My finger circles her oh-so-wet entrance, teasing her until she’s pushing herself against my face. When I slide one, then two fingers in, tonguing her clit faster, she falls apart in gasps of pleasure.
If I were a peacock, this is where I would preen, showing off all my colors in delight at having pleasured my mate. I wipe her wetness off my face and crawl up to her, wrap my arm around her to hold her close as she comes down from her orgasm.
The yawn that stretches her mouth wide open has me smiling. “You need your sleep, princess.” She shakes her head, trying hard to roll over to face me. Hearing her huff as she shifts her body is adorable.
“I intend to reciprocate, my mate.” Her voice is soft, sleepy, much like Lucy’s at bedtime. I kiss her nose.
“There’s time for that. We have our whole lives to continue pleasuring each other. Now, though, you should sleep. Our son is going to demand your strength.” Another kiss on her forehead.
“I love you.” I can barely make out the words. Before I can say it back, her breath is low and even. Asleep.
“I love you, too, princess. Every day and night.” And with that, I pull her into me, tuck the extra pillow under her belly for support, and drift off, thinking of how beautiful my family is.
T hank you for reading Tasha and Brann’s story. If you want a sneak peek at their adorable family of four, be sure to subscribe to my newsletter for a bonus epilogue story.
Turn the page for a sneak peek of the next book in the series: One Night with Her Demon Bodyguard.