Page 32 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)

Teasing Bambi is my favorite past time

This morning Bambi is craving pickles with a side of biscuits. At least it isn’t another outrageous combination. We both enjoy the biscuits, but I leave all the pickles for her. Maybe a better nickname for the baby is Pickle instead of Thumper.

It isn’t until we’re ready for the day and heading towards the door to go to the shop, already open below, that her sweet smile falls.

“What is it?”

I press a hand to her back and stand close looking down at her in her customary pair of overalls. She’s worrying a lip between her teeth and staring at the door like it might come to life and bite her at any moment.

“What are we going to tell Lauren when she sees us coming down from my apartment together?”

“The truth. I’m staying with you to care for you and keep an eye on you through your pregnancy. And that I’m sating your sexual needs as many times as you want. Every day if I must. Multiple times in fact.” I infuse my words with a playful flirtatiousness laced with a tinge of seduction.

I mean every word. If she wants to test me on that she’s more than welcome to.

Bambi smacks at my chest playfully and the smile that had fallen from her lips begins to grow again.

“We will tell her no such thing. The first part is fine, but you will not tell her about the sex stuff.”

Chuckling I pull her in as close as I can with her belly between us, pressing a kiss to her lips that has her softening against me.

One person at a time I’ll make sure this entire town knows Bambi is mine and so is her baby.

I won’t blurt it out to anyone immediately, but if the rumor mill starts churning, so be it.

“Don’t worry so much Bambi. What would be so bad about people knowing we’re together anyways?”

“We are? I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

She pulls back and looks up at me, a mix of confusion and hope swirling through her expression.

“Of course we are. You agreed to it the moment you first kissed me seven months ago. From that moment on I belonged to you.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, her face flushing and bright eyes glimmering with tears.

I know now they’re not sad tears, she just can’t control them. I still don’t like seeing them but knowing they’re happy tears mollifies the need inside me to soothe her hurt.

“Can we just…not say anything to anyone about it? Not that I’m ashamed or anything, I just don’t want people pushing their way into our lives.”

Pressing a kiss to her forehead I inhale her sweet scent and do as I always will, give in to her desires.

“If that’s what you want, I won’t say anything. But I can’t promise I won’t act like we’re not together. I’m going to want to touch you and be near you and I’ve denied myself too many years to not seize every opportunity I can.”

My hand cups her cheek and I run the pad of my thumb over her freckles and brush against the edges of her feathery eyelashes. She’s so naturally beautiful with her soft cheeks, slightly upturned nose, pink lips, and smattering of freckles. I hope our son has her freckles.

A flutter stutters in my heart, and I reach down to caress her stomach. It’s about as large as a volleyball but is still growing every day. She’ll be near bursting soon enough. There are only two more months until he’s here, until I’m a father, and I’m just realizing we are so not ready for that.

We can’t live on my boat, there’s not nearly enough room.

Although I’m sure the swaying will help on sleepless nights we can’t grow and live there as a family of three.

Bambi’s apartment is nice, there’s space for a nursery in her small second bedroom, but there’s no yard to play in.

No neighbors or kids for our son to befriend and ride bikes with.

I start making a mental list of things to research today.

Alternative living options

Cribs

Baby monitors

Breastfeeding versus formula

Baby names

Possible new jobs

There are a million more things on my list that I’ll need to know and get done before he’s born, but that’s a good place to start.

Bambi’s sweet voice pulls me out of my internal thoughts of crib safety ratings and night vision camera monitors.

“As long as you aren’t groping me or shoving your tongue down my throat, I guess I can live with that.”

“I can’t shove my tongue down your throat in front of Lauren?” I tease. I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway, but now that she’s brought it up.

“No, you cannot.”

“Well can I do it now?”

She pinches her lips between her teeth looking up at me from beneath those fairy wing lashes and nods.

Ooh, now I have a new game to play. How many times can I make out with Bambi in public without anyone seeing us? My guess is not many because when I’m with Bambi, no one else exists.

I lock lips with her again and this time I do shove my tongue down her throat. Only when she’s mewling and writhing in my hold do I release her, breathing heavily and leaning into me seeking out more.

“Come on, let’s get to work before the rumors really start.”

She harumphs and scrunches her nose at me. I bop it like a puppy dog and then give her ass a little squeeze.

I let her lead the way and ironically Lauren is right at the door that leads from the staircase to her apartment into the shop and stares wide eyed at us both entering together.

“Good morning,” she says brightly, trying to conceal her obvious interest.

“Good morning,” both I and Bambi repeat back.

Bambi ducks her head and grips the end of her ponytail as she passes Lauren, her red cheeks revealing most of what she wanted to keep private. She’s far too easy to read and I bet my boat she breaks and tells someone about us before I do.

I give Lauren a knowing grin as I pass her into the shop, following dutifully behind Bambi. This is going to be so much fun. Teasing Bambi is my favorite pastime, and she just elevated it to Olympic status.

~

Throughout the day I take the slow times to do some research on a few of the items on my list. I’ve decided we are in fact going to be getting a night vision camera baby monitor, along with those fancy sock things that track their heart rate and movement.

I considered buying a crib online and having it delivered but thought better of it when I realized that, one it wouldn’t match any of Bambi’s other furniture and then, two none of her other furniture is new and she would probably want to find an antique or used one anyway.

So instead, I started making a list of places we could go to find such a crib.

I’m just starting my search for baby names when Bambi appears at my side. She stands next to the armchair I’ve reclined in and places a hand on my shoulder smiling at me.

“Hey, would you mind getting the toolbox from the garage? Lauren is rearranging the art wall and needs it.”

The art wall is the wall directly behind the register and the small love seat next to it. Some of the younger customers like to take selfies and photos in front of it with their new books and post them on social media.

Not everyone in town is into the whole post pictures of your entire life online thing, but a lot of the younger generations, mine included, have nothing better to do in a small town so disconnected from the society of big cities. They need something to stay connected with the world outside Alaska.

The wall is directly across from the sitting area I’m currently occupying, and I notice Lauren removing frames and signs and setting them all out on the floor. I must have been really focused on my phone to not have noticed her doing that.

“Sure thing.”

I slip my phone into my pocket and head for the garage.

I have to go outside and enter through a separate door to the one car garage.

I think it was added on in like the eighties.

The store used to be a bank, and it most definitely didn’t have a garage or apartment upstairs when it was originally built.

I open the door which is unlocke d _ going to have to fix that, it’s going on my list of things to do before the baby arrive s _ and flick on the light.

Inside the small garage is Bambi’s old car.

A Saab from at least twenty years ago, that I despise and wish she would get rid of and replace with something newer and more reliable.

Every time I bring it up though she argues with me that it’s perfectly functional .

Functional and reliable are two different things in my book and I’m going to need to find a way to convince Bambi of that too.

There isn’t much else in the garage, which is why I suppose she hadn’t bothered with locking it. No one would steal her beat up old car and a box of extension cords.

I spot the small red toolbox on a practically empty shelf on the opposite side of the car.

Rounding it I notice a stain on the concrete floor running beneath the hood of the car.

Kneeling I dab a finger in it checking if it’s wet or dry.

Wet. Which means her car has a leak. Sniffing it, it smells like oil.

Well, that just moved up to the top of my to do list. If I could get away with junking the car and getting her a new on e _ or even better driving her around mysel f _ I would in a heartbeat. But I know my Bambi, she would be furious. So that leaves fixing the damn thing.

I grab the toolbox, which is not surprisingly light, and return inside with it. Making an excuse after ensuring they actually have the tools needed, I return to the garage and get to work figuring out what’s wrong with her car.

Two hours later I find myself inspecting the aisles at the auto parts shop. While I was under the hood, I saw a few other things that could use repairing and now have a decent size list and her car sitting in multiple pieces in her garage.

Thankfully she doesn’t use it often during the warmer month s _ and by warmer months I mean months with one inch or less of sno w _ so she won’t notice it for a while.

I turn down the next aisle and almost run into someone.