Page 168 of Preacher Man

Having kids meant no more spontaneous sex in the kitchen rutting like animals? What the hell. No way? Preacher’s forehead puckered as the banter passed from one member to the other, he tuned out. Was this shit true? Fuck. He wasn’t changing his mind on getting Sebastian home with him and Ruby, and that kid was not new-born, he could talk and everything … a much bigger cockblocker.

Nannies. They’d need a team of nannies, he decided firmly.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“Now would be a great time for a Terminator to come back from 2029 to save the day.” - Ruby.

"Why haven't they called? Shouldn't they have called by now? it's a bad sign, isn't it? It shouldn't take this long to say yes."

Preacher had watched Ruby pacing the full length of his living room for more than an hour and twenty minutes and she was making him woozy.

Back and forth and off she went again. Her teeth worrying at her lip and taking glances at her cell sat prominently in the middle of the coffee table like she was urging the thing to ring.

"Rubes, come here," he ignored her questions he didn't have answers to unless he lied. He'd never had any dealings with social services before now, far as he could tell they were hardasses about foster and adoption cases but he wasn't saying that to her. Archie had said a decision was being made today, now they just had to wait for the CPS to call and let them know if Sebastian was authorized to come and live with them. What would happen had already been determined, now he could only wait and support her, however, the ball dropped.

Don’t let me be the one that fucks this up for her.

She came to him instantly, progress, he smiled to himself. A month ago, she would have told him to fuck off, scowled and said to go play in traffic.

Feisty thing his wife.

When she was at his side looking up with those half-masted pleading eyes Preacher wanted to fix the world for her, to hand deliver the kid so she was never unhappy again.

He was a doer, not a waiter. This was his idea of Hell.

“I can’t wait for him to see the bedroom we fixed up for him,” she said in a quiet voice. “Do you think he’ll like the toys?”

“Beautiful, you got him one of everything, I think the kid will think Disneyland puked up on the floor.”

“He’ll like the Spider-Man bedding, right? He likes Spider-Man.”

“What little kid wouldn’t.” He agreed. He hoped Seb would get to see the bedroom they’d worked on all day yesterday. His mom had carted over a whole trunk load of his and his brother's old toys, Seb was going to be spoiled for choice.

Seeing how she glanced at the cell phone again he stroked a palm to the back of her neck, felt the shudder go through her and arched into him for more petting, he left that hand there buried under her hair and let the other slide down the front of her body.

"What are you doing? We don't have time for that." Ass braced to the window ledge, his old lady between his legs, he had a great view of outside through the blinds, and he'd hear if anyone pulled up in one of the two carports out front, and of course, they were both watching her phone like it was about to explode. Whichever way the CPS decided to drop their verdict Preacher would know about it. Seeing her wound so damn tight, hanging on with all her nervous energy just to keep hoping, he knew one sure way to relax his old lady, by dipping his hand under the leg of her sleep shorts, he found she was bare beneath them.

"Ash..."

"I'm distracting you. Did I ever tell you about the time I took my brother's dirt bike apart and put it back together before he got home from school? but I'd forgotten one lousy bolt and the thing collapsed under him." Two fingers grazed against her slit and her head bowed down resting on his chest, exhaling so hard Preacher felt her bones relaxing as she chuckled. "No, you didn't. What did he do?"

"I was twelve and a cocky little bonehead, if you can believe that." Inserting a finger into her lips he idly toyed with her slick clit until it swelled under his touch, stroking carefully, in no rush, drawing circles, spelling his full name on the beloved little bud. He wasn’t igniting passion as they usually made love, this was soft, and tempting, yielding his lady under his hands, melting her bones, giving her a few minutes to think about something else. Her faint vanilla scent tickled his nose and he smiled rubbing his face in her hair, breathing deeply, the memory right there.

"Oh, god." She flinched jerking her hips, her arms went around his waist. Breathy when she asked. “Was he mad?”

That's my good girl, Rubes.Dropping a kiss against the shell of her ear, his other hand keeping hold of her nape, his thumb working her hammering pulse.

"Shane wasn’t happy, put it that way, he beat the living crap out of me, I could barely open my eye for a week, but then he showed me how to properly fix bikes and I was hooked ever since. Worked in one bike shop or another all my life."

His tiny dancer pliant under his hands, rolling her hips to his fingers and gasping breathy sounds, he smiled unsure if she'd even heard any of his story, but it had the desired effect she was no longer pacing or fretting over the fucking kid-police.

He used his middle finger to scrape against her G-spot knowing that's what she liked, she mewled, clutching onto the back of his shirt, she was slippery wet, hot and fucking grabbing onto his finger tightly. The moan sailed past her sexy little-opened mouth and for a long thirty-seconds Preacher had to chew the inside of his cheek to stop the rush of need coursing through him.

His cock ached but this was about his old lady.

Damn. He had an old lady. A true one. His wife.

How had that happened? More importantly, why wasn't it freaking him the shit out?