“Angling for another spanking, baby?” I murmured.
Her brown eyes turned molten, and her cheeks bloomed with pink. Later couldn’t come fast enough.
“Kids are with your sister, and everyone is gone,” I declared when I walked into the kitchen later that night. “Let’s go.”
Belle looked up from the large center island where she was packing away what was left of the cake. “Patience, Griff. I need to—” she broke off with a yelp when I ignored her protest and threw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold.
“What you need is to get naked and let the birthday boy play with his favorite toys.”
Belle giggled and slapped my ass. “I don’t want the cake to dry out!”
I halted and twirled around, keeping her steady with a hand on her butt. “No problem,” I assured her. I grabbed the plate of sugary goodness and pivoted once more, heading straight to our bedroom. “I’ll make sure it’s all gone by the time I’ve finished licking it off of you.”
Once we reached the master suite, I made a beeline for the bed and tossed her onto it. She laughed as she bounced, and I had to stop for a second and admire the view before me. Belle was wearing shorts and a white tank that had a purple stain from Brand dripping grape juice on it. There was frosting on her cheek, and her hair was falling out of the ponytail she’d thrown it in when it got really hot that afternoon.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I breathed. “You get even more gorgeous every fucking day.”
Belle’s expression softened, but she chuckled ruefully. “I’m a mess!”
“Gorgeous,” I disagreed with a tone that indicated I couldn’t be swayed to believe otherwise. “Now, where’s that present?”
I looked around and spotted it on the dresser across the room. Glancing back at her as I walked over to it, I demanded, “Strip, baby. Time for your birthday spanking.”
“How come I’m always the one getting birthday spankings, no matter whose birthday it is?” she grumbled.
I retrieved the gift and headed back to her, grinning wolfishly. “Because I enjoy putting my mark on your pretty white ass.”
Belle huffed and gestured to the box in my hand. “Open your present, caveman.”
By the time I was back at the bed and sitting beside her, I’d already torn off the paper and opened the box. Inside was a small, plain, cream-colored card on top of black tissue paper. On the backside of the card was a simple, “Happy Birthday. I love you. Belle.” Then I noticed the small script at the bottom. “I suggest you hide this present where no one else will find it so I don’t have to help you hide any dead bodies.” Hard laughter burst from my chest, making me gasp for air. Adorable.
“I’m glad you think so, but I was being completely serious,” Belle quipped, making me realize I’d said it out loud.
Setting the card aside, I continued to chuckle as I lifted the black paper away, revealing a leather album. My curiosity was definitely piqued. I pushed all of the other stuff off of the bed and set the book in my lap before opening it to the first page.
My breath whooshed from my lungs, and I nearly came right then and there.
The first page was a picture of my wife wearing nothing. Well, almost nothing. She was sitting on the ground with my new guitar strategically placed in her lap. The next page was a similar photo in another pose.
“Aurora hired a new photographer for the chapel, and she also does boudoir shoots.”
I could barely tare my eyes away from the photos to glance up at her. “Baby, these are amazing.” I gave her a lopsided grin. “That guitar looks a fuck of a lot better in your hands than it ever will in mine. And you’re right, if anyone besides me ever sees these, they won’t live to tell about it.” I went back to flipping the pages as I teased, “But I’ll get Knox to help so I’m not implicated.”
A large part of me was clamoring to pounce on Belle and sate the beast only she could unleash inside me. But a stronger part, the one that was ruled by love rather than lust, was determined to take my time, to admire the incredible gift my wife had given me. She’d obviously put a lot of time and effort into it, and I wanted her to know what they meant to me.
When I turned the second to last page, I noticed something different. Belle was a ways away, sitting with her back facing the camera and her hands buried in her hair, holding it all up so it was piled on top of her head.
Several years ago, Belle had surprised me by having my name and Cyra’s inked on the back of her neck. After Brand was born, she’d added his name to the list. I’d kissed that spot so many times, there was no way I could have missed the fact that it suddenly looked different. I bent close and stared hard. It looked like there was more writing.
“Turn the page, Griffith,” she said softly. I did as she asked. The last picture was a close-up, so it was easy to read the script.
Griffith
Cyra
Brand
Jude
My mouth dropped open, and I twisted around to see Belle sitting naked in the same position as the photo, her slender neck on display. “Jude?” I croaked. We’d talked about that name…because it worked for either a boy or a girl…I swallowed hard. “Baby, are you pregnant?”
She dropped her hair and faced me, a luminous smile gracing her face. “Surprise!” I was so shocked; I didn’t even get distracted by her naked tits swaying when she moved. Mostly. “We’re having a baby! It was so hard not to tell you. I wouldn’t have been able to hide it except this baby doesn’t seem to make me throw up as often as the other two and—” Her rambling stopped when my mouth crashed down on hers.
Only a few minutes later, we were both naked, and I was buried deep inside my incredible wife. I set her astride me so I could watch her ride, her big tits bouncing, her hair floating all around her. I placed a palm over her belly and surged up as she came down. I didn’t know what it was about fucking her while she was knocked up. It was like a primal instinct, knowing I’d bred my woman, it drove me wild and tossed all of my control out the window.
“Fuck, baby,” I groaned. She was always tight, but I could’ve sworn that when she was pregnant, it was almost like she was a virgin every time. “Your pussy is like a fucking vice.”
“So good, Griffith,” Belle moaned as she began to gyrate above me.
I sat up and took one of her nipples in my mouth. The memory of how they tasted when she was feeding our babies caused come to leak from my dick. I loved on her other breast for a minute, mumbling, “I love sucking these fat nipples when you’re dripping with milk. I can’t wait to taste all that sweetness again.”
Belle shuddered, and her inner walls started to spasm. Suddenly, I lifted her off my cock and brought her up so that she was sitting on my face. I swiped my hand over the cake sitting on the table beside us and smeared it all over her pussy. All it took was a couple of licks and a hard suck on her clit to set her off. She cried out my name over and over as I ate up every bit of the sweet dessert, made only more delicious from her own honeyed taste.
I worked her up until she was on the edge again, then flipped her to her side and scooted over until my front was plastered to her back. I hooked one of her legs back over mine, opening her wide and thrust deep inside her. I set a hard and fast pace, but when I moved her hair away and saw the tattoo, something inside me melted and our movements became less frantic. I kissed each name as I made love to her. I slid my hand over her belly, resting my palm there and whispering how much I adored her, our kids, our life. Telling her how happy I was about the new baby.
Belle’s back bowed a heartbeat before she fell apart. Her pussy clamped down on my cock and dragged me with her. Her name erupted from my mouth with a roar as I poured everything I had into her.
The frantic feeling returned, and I rolled us over so that she was on her stomach. “Fuck! Fuck! Oh, fuck, yeah!” I started pounding in and out, hard and fast. “One more, baby,” I growled. In a flash, we were both coming again.
I was practically drowning in
the tumultuous waves of bliss crashing over me. Breathing was a struggle, but the nirvana I was experiencing kept me from giving a single fuck.
When we finally began to float back down to earth, we fell into an exhausted, sweaty heap. I held her close, my hand brushing up and down her back, occasionally tracing the names on her skin.
“I love you,” Belle whispered.
“Baby, love isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for you.”
She snuggled back into me and since I was still inside her, my dick started to stir. I groaned. “You need to be still. I don’t have the energy to fuck you again.”
Belle snorted, and I smiled into her hair. “Liar.”
I lifted my head and grinned devilishly down at her. “Maybe you’re right. Besides, I still owe you a birthday spanking.”
In the mood for another tattooed hero while you’re waiting for Ariel’s story, Baby Cakes? Give I’m Yours, Baby a try!
Don’t miss out on Fiona Davenport releases. Sign up for our newsletter or join our Facebook group!
I’m Yours, Baby
Guy Rule: Don’t knock a girl up and disappear for a year.
Weston Davis was a jaded CIA operative who didn’t believe in love at first sight—until the moment he laid eyes on Aspen Kennedy and knew she was meant to be his. With an undercover operation only days away, the timing was horrible. But he didn’t let it get in the way of spending an explosive weekend with her before he has to leave.
Aspen believed Weston when he told her he’d be back. Twelve months, a positive pregnancy test, and countless emails later, she’s given up hope on ever hearing from him again. She’s left alone to raise their baby, a treasured gift from the man who’d stolen her heart and smashed it to pieces.
When Weston comes storming back into her life, he has a new mission: claim his family, find the person who’d almost caused him to lose them, and make them pay.
Warning: If you’re in the mood for a quick & dirty read with an alpha male who’s determined to make up for lost time, this novella is for you!
Prologue
Aspen
“You shouldn’t have to do this alone,” Macy hissed.
“I have you.” My answer was terse because talking about my baby daddy was at the bottom of my list of things I wanted to do. Especially while I was trying to breathe through my contractions the way I’d been taught during the Lamaze classes Macy had attended with me.
“If I ever see that man again, I’m going to kick him in the nuts so hard he’ll never be able to father another child.”
A startled laugh burst out of my mouth at the image that popped into my head of my best friend going after the man who’d gotten me pregnant. Macy was pocket-sized at five-foot-two and a hundred pounds when soaking wet. In addition to being a full foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than her, Weston Davis had a dangerous air about him. The coiled way he held himself, and his awareness of everything going on around him, gave Weston a dangerous air that was only enhanced by the ink covering so much of his body.
It was part of what drew me to him in the first place, along with the sizzling heat in his green eyes when he’d looked at me, and the way a lock of his dark brown hair seemed to think it belonged on his forehead. Spending the weekend with a man I’d only just met was completely out of character for me, but I’d found Weston impossible to resist. From the moment he’d claimed the empty chair next to me at the nightclub Macy had talked me into going to, I’d known I was his. As crazy as it sounded, it had been love at first sight for me.
I thought it had been the same for him. I didn’t doubt he was mine right back, not even when he told me he had to take an extended trip overseas for work and his ability to stay in touch would be iffy. He’d given me an email address to use and warned me there would be a delay in his replies. I hadn’t asked too many questions, afraid to hear the answers, because the kind of business that would make a tatted up bad boy stay out of touch for so long couldn’t possibly have been good.
He’d even gone as far as to promise he’d find a way to get to me if I needed him. His green eyes had shone with such honesty and heartfelt regret that I believed every word. It wasn’t until after nine months and no response to any of my numerous messages that I was finally ready to accept defeat, even while a tiny part of my heart held on to the hope that he’d walk through the door and be with me for the birth of our child.
“I’m not sure you can kick that high, but I’d love for you to have the chance,” I panted.
“Oh, sweetie,” she murmured. “I do, too. I really do. I’d give anything to be out there in the waiting room if it meant he was here to help you through this.”
I squeezed her hand tighter as another contraction hit, making her wince in pain. “Yeah, because then it would be his fingers I’d be breaking, instead of yours.”
“You know that’s not it, but a little less crushing of my bones would be appreciated. I may need that hand later.”
She waggled her eyebrows, acting like a goof in her ongoing efforts to make my labor and delivery easier on me. I tried to unclench my fingers, but the pain made it difficult. Breathing through it wasn’t doing me a whole lot of good, but I’d insisted on trying to do this without an epidural because I tended to react weird to pain relievers.
“Remember what the Lamaze instructor said, try to find your happy place,” she reminded me. She widened her eyes and tilted her lips up at the corners as she used the phrase which had made us giggle each and every time the instructor said it.
Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift and found myself remembering my time with Weston. It seemed appropriate since he was the only man to ever get me to my happy place.
“Aspen.” The sound of his husky voice whispering my name into my ear sent shivers down my spine.
Goosebumps pebbled along my skin, and my cheeks were warm enough for me to know I was blushing. “Weston?”
He stood from his chair, and I immediately felt the loss of his warmth at my side. “Come with me.”
He lifted one hand, palm up, and I slid mine into it without question. I offered Macy a quick thumbs-up sign with the other as he practically dragged me from the club. The cab ride to his hotel was spent with me in his lap while he devoured my mouth with passionate kisses. We weren’t alone in the elevator ride up, but that didn’t stop him from pulling me against his body and nibbling at my neck while his fingers toyed with the edge of my skirt.
By the time we made it through the hotel room door, my panties were soaked—something Weston quickly discovered when he backed me up against the wall, hiked my skirt around my waist, and buried his mouth between my legs. His breath was hot against me, making me whimper.
“Don’t fucking move,” he said, pulling the fabric aside and dragging his tongue up my center. “I’ve got you, beautiful.”
When he circled my clit and I felt the tip of his finger press against me, my world exploded. “Weston!”
“So tight,” he groaned, working his finger farther into me. “Can’t wait to feel your sweet pussy wrapped around me.”
He pulled his finger out and stuck it into his mouth, moaning as he sucked on it. It was still damp when he clasped my face between his hands and kissed me. I tasted myself on his lips, but it was quickly overpowered by a rich flavor that was all his own.
I was dizzy, and we were both gasping for breath when he ended the kiss. Then he lifted me up, his hands under my ass. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the king sized bed and twisted so he fell onto his back with me on top of him.
Shoving my shirt over my head, he flicked my bra open and let it fall from my shoulders. My back arched when he squeezed my tits together and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. Switching his attention from side to side, he quickly built me up again as I writhed on top of him.
“More,” I moaned. “I need more, Weston.”
“You need more? I’ll fucking give it to you,” he growled against my lips, his fingers tugging m
y skirt down. Rising up on my knees, I wiggled until it slid to the mattress and I could kick it away, along with my panties. While he was pulling his shirt over his head, I got to work on his belt and tugged his pants down his legs, taking his boxers with them.
He yanked a condom from his pocket before tossing his pants to the floor on the steadily building pile of clothes. My eyes were torn between the sight of his hand as he stroked his hardened length and the taut muscles of his chest, covered in dark ink. Then the battle for my attention ended when he rolled a condom into place and wrapped his hands around my waist to lift me up until I hovered over his erection.
My palms went to his chest for balance, and I enjoyed the feel of his smooth skin, my fingers tracing over the tattoos beneath them. Leaning down, I kissed him softly before making a plea. “Go slow. It’s been a long time.” A really, really long time, since the awkward night I’d lost my virginity to a fumbling teenager in the backseat of a limo after prom.
With one hand wrapped around his cock, he guided himself into me, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside.
“You’re so damn tight, beautiful. Your pussy feels like it was fucking made for me.”
He was all the way in, my pelvis flush against his, and I felt every inch of him. I reveled in the sensation for one brief moment, and it got even better when I swiveled my hips and rocked into him. He tilted his head back, his heated eyes locked on mine, and power rushed through my veins. He was already close to the edge, and I’d taken him there. Bending lower, I nibbled a trail up his neck to his ear.
Rock-a-Bye, Baby: A Vegas, Baby Novella Page 7