Page 12

THREE YEARS LATER

Once I finally settle Isla down for the night, I shuffle wearily back to our bedroom, every step feeling heavier than the last. My body aches with fatigue, and all I can think about is collapsing face-first into the soft bed, hoping my spoiled three-year-old lets me sleep all night long.

I find Miles sitting on the edge of our bed with a smile on his face. "That was quick," he says, his voice a delicious scrape of gravelly velvet.

"Your little princess was so exhausted that she dozed off before I even finished the second page."

Since school will be starting next week, we decided to have a fun weekend with the kids. Today, we spent the day at Silver Spoon Falls, and when we returned home, we divided the bedtime duties. Miles took care of getting our three older boys ready for bed and settled in for the night, while I put Isla to sleep. Our pampered princess is more challenging to get to bed than all three boys put together.

“Maybe we need to have another girl so she has someone to play with.” My husband’s suggestion hits me out of nowhere.

“Another child?” I blink several times, wondering if he’s lost his freaking mind. Two spoiled princesses is exactly what we don’t need. "You realize we already live in a circus, right?"

He smiles down at me, eyes never leaving mine. "I wouldn’t change a thing."

"Me neither," I roll my eyes, and he grins. “But that doesn’t mean I want to add another monkey to the show.”

He presses on. "When you already have four, what’s one more?" Darn. He’s serious. And he’s fucking hot. My tiredness evaporates and is replaced with the urge to jump his bones.

He shifts closer, so his chest is pressed against my side. His hand slides up, cupping my face. The size of his hand, the gentle pressure—he's always been able to make me feel fragile and invincible at the same time.

"Nothing would make me happier than another little girl to keep the boys in line," he says as he pulls me onto his lap, my legs tangling with his, and we fit together like the pieces of some ancient, well-loved puzzle. "What do you say?" he asks again, the words rumbled into my ear.

I nod, not trusting my voice. It suddenly hits me that having another child really appeals to me. Isla is already three, and I’ve been having baby fever like crazy. Another plus is the hot and heavy loving from my husband several times a day.

I glance over, seeing the look of hunger and devotion shining from his eyes, and turn into a puddle of goo.

His lips brush against my hairline, soft at first, like a whisper against my sensitized skin. But then his mouth lingers, hot and wet, and I can feel the scrape of his stubble against my cheek, sending shivers down my spine like a fucking electric current.

My breath hitches while my nipples harden into tight little peaks under the thin fabric of my shirt. I feel the slick heat pooling between my thighs as my pussy clenches in anticipation of what is coming next.

He doesn’t waste time. With a growl that rumbles deep in his chest, he grabs me by the hips and yanks me around to straddle his lap. My legs spread wide, my yoga pants doing very little to hide the hard, throbbing length of his cock pressing against my aching center.

His erection is huge, thick, and unyielding, like it was carved from marble. I reach down between us and slip my hand into his jeans. I slowly explore every inch of him, every ridge and vein, and it makes me whimper.

His hands slide up my thighs, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulls me closer, grinding me against his cock. The friction is maddening, the pressure against my clit making me moan like a whore in heat. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk straight.”

“Yes,” I gasp, my voice trembling with need. “Please, I need it. I need you.”

He doesn’t make me beg for long. With one swift motion, he reaches between us and yanks my pants and panties down my legs, exposing my dripping pussy to the cool air. Slickness coats my thighs, the scent of my arousal thick and heady between us. “Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he growls, his voice low and rough, his lips brushing against my ear, and sending a shiver down my spine.

He knows nights in our house are unpredictable, so he doesn’t waste any time dragging his jeans down just enough to free his cock. Then he’s pushing deep inside me.

As his shaft stretches me open in one slow thrust, I cry out his name. My nails dig into his shoulders as he fills me to the hilt, every inch of him claiming me, owning me.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he groans, his hips snapping forward as he begins to move. His cock pistons in and out of me, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside that makes me see stars.

My tits bounce with every movement, my nipples hard and aching, and I can feel the coil of pleasure tightening in my belly, threatening to snap.

He tugs my loose t-shirt over my head and wraps his warm hands around my aching tits. When he runs his fingers across my sensitive nipples, I almost self-combust.

“You’re gonna come for me,” he growls, pinching my nipples the way that drives me wild. “You’re gonna scream my name when you do.”

And boy, do I ever. With a cry that echoes off the walls, I come hard, my pussy clenching around his cock like a vice as wave after wave of unbelievable pleasure crashes over me. He doesn’t stop, fucking me through my orgasm until I’m a trembling, whimpering mess. And then, with a final thrust, he buries himself deep inside me and comes with a roar, his hot cum flooding my pussy. He buries his face against my shoulder, breathing hard against my skin. "God, Allie," he says, "I love you so much."

"I love you, too.” I barely manage to push the words past my dry throat. “And I’m ready for whatever comes next.”

“It’s a good thing since I have championship level swimmers.” As he helps me stand up, I feel the wetness trickle down my legs.

I smile up at him happily. "Knowing your swimmers, it’s probably twins."

My prediction proves to be spot on. Nine months later, I find myself cradling identical twin girls in my arms. My husband and boys can’t quite believe this turn of events, but we couldn’t be any happier.

It doesn’t take long for us to realize Julie and Marley are just as busy as their big sister, so Miles tells everyone our house is definitely run by females.