With every stroke, every touch, every nibble and caress, my body opened itself wider, pulsed harder. He was bringing me to the edge, over and over again, then drawing back.
I started to beg him to let me fall, let me tumble and orgasm, but he simply shook his head and wrapped his arms tighter around me. He scooped me up onto his lap, his hands spread across my back as he tormented me with long loving strokes. My head fell back, my whole weight practically balanced in his arms and still he kept a hold of me. Driving his cock slowly in and out, building up the orgasms to heights I never knew possible.
I began to moan.
“Shh,” he whispered. “I’ll let you come, but you have to be quiet,” he urged.
“You better,” I breathed and reached for him, clutching hold of his thick, muscled neck as he began his final assault. The last few wicked and teasing caresses of his cock inside me plunged deeper still. Sweat was trickling down our bodies and my toes began to curl.
“Drake,” I cried softly. It was almost unbearable and I was so close.
His open mouth was inches away from mine, our eyes locked into an unbreakable stare. He never looked away, wanted to see me come undone.
“Don’t stop.”
He shook his head and the soft and smooth turned to rough and hard. All it took was two, oh god—no three—firm, hungry thrusts and I was in pieces. Creamy nectar gushed out of me and my mouth dropped open in a loud moan. Drake quickly clamped his hand over my lips to stop the sound from waking the baby. Through hooded eyelids I watched as Drake’s tendons in his neck tightened and he took his bottom lip into his mouth, censoring himself. With a final ragged advance he came. He regained his grip on my waist, our bodies slick, and let his seed spill.
Exhausted we both fell in a tangled heap upon the sheets. Drake reached for my hand and laced his fingers through mine.
Chapter Nineteen
Being at the beach house in France with Drake, Leah, and the baby was simply the best thing to have happened after everything. We’d only been there together for a few days, but we all were so much happier and relaxed. Including myself. There was still a long way to go of course; the dark feelings were still at the edge of my mind, not completely gone, yet I knew I was no longer alone, and that helped. And Dr. Moreau was excellent, supporting me whenever I needed it and making sure I was on medication that would enable me to continue breastfeeding after my little bit of success. Drake was so impressed with her that he suggested we stay longer than a couple of weeks. There was even talk of moving there permanently.
As much as I wanted to, this place felt like home—less sterile, more welcoming and healing—we couldn’t stay forever, though; we had to get back to London. The baby had to be given a name so we could register his birth at the local registry office, and time was running out.
“I think we should name him today,” I said as I put the bottles of expressed milk into the fridge.
Drake was lounging—yes actually horizontal, relaxing, no phone in sight—in a slim recliner on the far side of the kitchen. He was reading the business section of an international paper, but I couldn’t begrudge him that. There was a sofa in that space, too, with scattered magazines and countless toys belonging to Leah. It was a den of sorts, and the area with the kitchen had become the place we all seemed gravitate to during our lazy afternoons after lunch. But it was still only morning, and that day felt like the perfect time to name our baby. We’d both had enough time to think on it. We’d all acclimatised to being at the beach house.
“Today’s a good day for that, plus we don’t have much longer to decide,” he said absently, flicking a page of his paper.
“Well, don’t sound too enthusiastic about it,” I teased. “Maybe, I should just ask Leah if she thinks it’s a good idea.”
At the sound of her name she tilted up her head, no longer concentrating on squashing her segments of orange into smithereens.
“What do you think, honey? Should we name the baby?”
She scowled as if we’d already been over this, and in a way we had. The last time I’d promised her cake and then disappeared for a couple of days. But I wasn’t about to do that to her again, of course. Never again.
“Bug-Bug!”
“Can’t argue with that,” I said. “Today it is then!” I cheered and Leah clapped her sticky hands. “I’ll see if the pâtisserie can deliver us some cakes for the occasion.”
Drake’s newspaper crinkled as he folded it up and dropped it where he’d been sitting. He glanced momentarily at his watch. “I’ll do that, you get little madam here, Destroyer of Citrus, cleaned up and then we can go down to the beach for a swim?”
He came close and I kissed him. “Deal.”
Drake disappeared out of the kitchen and I wiped Leah’s hands, much to her displeasure, then found our sunscreen and swimming gear. “Drake do you know where the blanket is? I can’t find it.”
Drake reappeared dressed in a pair of dazzling-blue board shorts, with a black palm tree pattern covering them, carrying the baby in similar attire. They both looked ridiculous and so sweet at the same time.
“What do you two look like?” I said smiling.
“I think we look perfectly fetching for the occasion.”
“You didn’t wake him did you?”
“Nope, he’s ready for his big day.”
“Did you find the blanket as well?”
“You won’t need it.”
Did he expect us to sit on the scorching hot sand? “Of course we will.”
He shook his head. “No, we won’t. Come on, the tide waits for no man!”
With the baby tucked safe in his arm he carried him out onto the deck, disappearing from view.
“Daddy!” Leah cried not happy to be left behind and toddled after him. I followed her, concentrating on where she was stepping. I didn’t see what lay ahead until my feet touched the sandy private beach. “Go on, go play—” I started to say and looked up and around.
The sandy space had been magically transformed. It was like a miniature fairground, with streamers and bunting marking the area. Tables had been set up with a small selection of food, cakes, and drinks, all shielded by canopies above them. In the middle lay layers upon layers of blankets and pillows. At the closest corner were parasols and a collection of beach toys, too. Buckets and spades, inflatables and snorkels, and even a beach ball.
It was hard to take it all in.
And goddamit there were tears in my eyes again! But happy ones.
At the edge of the blankets, attached to a couple of upright poles was a banner that read Happy Naming Day with a blank space after it.
Leah was squealing with delight and jumping up and down, clapping her hands. She darted away toward the toys, and I looked to find Drake staring at me, a devilish smile on his face.
“Do you like it?”
“You did all this?”
He nodded. “Surprise.”
Digging my feet into the sand I made my way to him. “How on earth did you sneak this one by me?”
“I have my ways, they’ve been busy setting it up all morning,” he said, circling his free arm around me waist. “You like it?”
“Of course I do. It’s wonderful.” I rewarded him with a prolonged kiss. The baby was kicking and gurgling with excitement in his arms. “Your Daddy sure does spoil us, doesn’t he?”
Drake took my hand and led me to a beach chair and we both sat, making sure the baby was shaded from the sun. We made sure to get ourselves and Leah all covered up with cream then sat back and watched her mess around in the sand.
With drinks in our hands, brought over to us by a discreet server, we began to discuss names for our boy.
“I have the perfect name,” he said and placed the tip of his finger gently on the baby’s nose.
“You do not. I have the perfect name.”
“A challenge, huh? How many vetoes do we get each?”
“Mmm, three?”
“Okay. You go first.”
“Fine, I’ll go first.” He sipped his mimosa then dug the base of the glass into the sand so it wouldn’t topple over. “Hey Leah, what do you think of Chauncey as a name?”
She looked confused and immediately went back to her bucket of sand.
“Veto! Oh my god, Drake. Chauncey, really?”
“It was worth a shot… Okay then, what about Angus, or Warrior, ooh or maybe Orville. Orville Millar, I like the sound of that.”
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to call him Orville! He’s already been through so much in his life to be named after a green puppet in a diaper!” I laughed, hoping to god he wasn’t actually serious.
Drake looked blankly at me, a twinkle in his eye. “You haven’t used your vetoes. But you’ve only got two left… such a shame.”
“You can’t do that to me—”
“Those are the rules,” he said grinning.
“Actually it’s okay, I’ll make sure to fill out the form before you,” I replied and stuck out my tongue. Leah wandered over to us and sat at our feet intently listening to our conversation. She rose every so often on her knees and peered over at her brother in Drake’s lap.
Drake took my hand and lifted it to his lips.
“No wait, I’ve changed my mind. I think I like Warrior.”
Drake’s face dropped.
“It’s quite perfect, really, our little warrior. He’s been through so much and he’s still trooping on.”
“Vi… be serious.”
“I am!” Then I started laughing, Drake joined in cautiously. He could tell I was up to something.
“Spill it, what’s the real name you were thinking of?”
I smiled. “Warrior.”
Drake frowned and his laughter died.
“Well, okay not exactly Warrior, but the name I’ve been thinking of for a long while kinda means that.”
Drake’s frown remained for a split second then his eyes went wide. “Louis?”
I nodded and grinned. “Well, someone knows his French etymology.”
Drake looked to me then back at the baby in his lap. “It’s perfect,” he whispered and turned back to me, his head leaning in for a kiss.
“Louis Millar,” we both sounded out together.
Even Leah tried to say it, but it just came out like Lou-ee Mi-war.
“Hello, Louis,” Drake said. “It’s an honour to finally meet you, son.”
“You don’t think he needs a middle name, do you?” I asked. Drake’s lips pursed and there was a glint in his eye.
“Seriously, don’t even think about it. We’re not going through that again. Luke is permanently off the table, now and forever.”
“Forever?” Drake asked, his lips pouting.
I nodded. “So long as Leah is called Leah—and I don’t expect that changing anytime, ever—she is not going to have a brother named Luke, you Star Wars-obsessed man.”
“But… what if we had more kids?” Drake said slowly.
“Not even then!” I said smiling. We both looked at our children. Leah stroked Louis’ balled up hand, and she marvelled at his tiny fingers, and for a quick second the thought of having more kids crossed my mind. Even after everything, there was one thing I was sure of and Christine had been right: I loved being a mother and I’d always wanted to be.
I felt Drake’s gaze and I knew he wanted to ask the same thing that was playing on my mind, but was perhaps too nervous to ask the question. I nodded to him. “Maybe one day.”
He beamed and passed the baby to me, kissing me as we made the transfer.
Drake stood and whispered to Leah, she gave him a little nod after understanding what he was asking, and they walked away toward the poles with the naming banner attached.
I held my baby boy, my Louis, and we watched as they gathered the banner and brought it back to the blankets. Drake made sure to spread it flat then quickly sought for what he was looking for. With a few stones, he weighed down each of the corners so the breeze wouldn’t blow the paper away. He asked Leah to go get her red bucket, she did, and as soon as she had it, held tightly in her hand, they walked down the beach, stopping every so often. Leah pointed at something, Drake nodded, and Leah with great ceremony placed it into her bucket.
This went on for the best part of twenty minutes, and while Louis snoozed in my arms, content in the shade, I couldn’t take my eyes off my little family.
Drake and Leah came back pleased as punch and immediately got to work. The server from before, who’d I’d completely forgotten about—he was doing a very good job at being discreet—hurried over to Drake and handed him what looked to be a small squeeze bottle.
Together, Drake and Leah started to pick out the contents of their loot from the bucket and I suddenly realised what they were doing. Leah lay down tiny seashells upon the blanket, choosing the best ones while Drake helped her to clean them off and get them dry. Then one by one Drake glued them—with Leah’s supervision, of course—to the empty space on the banner.
Slowly but surely letters began to appear and finally they were done. Leah looked incredibly pleased with herself and came running over, pointing. “Mommy!”
“I’m looking, sweetheart. I am,” I said, feeling a surge of happy tears come to the surface. Drake took the temporary stone paperweights away and re-attached the banner to the poles, which now read: Happy Naming Day Louis!
Chapter Twenty
I smoothed the fabric of my fancy dress down as I rose to my feet. All eyes were on me and I could already feel the tremors working their way down my arms, shaking the little cards that I held in my hands. The thin cards would be soaked through with perspiration if I weren’t careful. I wouldn’t be able to read my own handwriting.
I took a deep breath and stepped up to the small platform that was the focal point in the large hotel function room and looked out to the crowd. There were so many people gathered around wide, round tables. Fancy china, shining cutlery, and full wine glasses were at each setting. And I tried not to think about exactly how many people were out there now looking at me, waiting for me to start speaking. But I already knew the numbers, after all I was the one who had invited them all there.
What had I been thinking?
Tight knots formed in my stomach.
For courage I glanced to the left of the empty seat I’d vacated and sought Drake’s calming grey eyes. This was entirely his fault, I thought as I remembered the night he’d planted the seed that wouldn’t go away.
We were back at the penthouse apartment in London having made sure Louis’ birth was registered in time, and I was in Drake’s arms in bed, thinking about the woman Dr. Moreau asked me to meet before we left for England.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Drake commented as he smoothed the side of my face.
“Just thinking.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Thinking about what?”
To be honest my thoughts were a jumble at that time and I paused, trying to gain some semblance of order.
“We promised we’d always tell each other the truth, so what’s bothering you?” he prompted.
“Oh, I know. And I will. I just… I’m not sure what exactly I’m feeling. You remember the woman, Nadia, Dr. Moreau asked me to meet?”
“Before we left, yes?”
“I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Okay,” Drake said unsure where the conversation was heading.
“We talked and I think I helped a little bit. But it wasn’t enough…”
“I’m sure you just being there and telling her a little about what you went through and experienced with Louis helped her.”
“Maybe,” I sighed. “But—”
“It wasn’t enough,” Drake stated my previous concerns back to me. I nodded.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, then think like a problem solver; what would be enough?”
“See, I have no id
ea. I’m just one person, and yes talking might’ve helped, but that can’t be just it.”
“Think bigger then.”
I sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard and he followed suit, but still maintained a possessive, but lovely, hold on me; his arm snaked around my shoulders. I snuggled into him.
“I’m not good at thinking big. You’re the billionaire; that’s your territory, coming up with the big ideas.”
“Well, I do have one.”
“Tell me.”
“If I tell you what do I get in return?” he asked cheekily. “People pay big bucks for the ideas I have.”
“You’ll get what you’re given,” I responded and quickly straddled him, pinning him under me. Though if he wanted to he could easily have removed me. He didn’t. “And you’ll like it.”
“No doubt about that,” he said with a sensual groan. His hands claimed a tight hold of my bum and the tips of his fingers kneaded into my skin. “Maybe you should give me my reward before I tell you. You know I’m good for it.”
I ground my hips against him and felt him thicken beneath me. His shaft straining against the barrier of his lounge pants.
“It doesn’t work like that. I’m the one in control here. Tell me.”
“Okay, okay,” he said a little breathless as I continued to circle my hips, pressing myself harder against his cock. “I give up. I’ll tell you.”
“Good.”
He took a deep breath and simply said, “You should create a foundation.”
I stopped moving and puzzled over his suggestion for a moment. “A foundation? Like a charity?”
“Yes.”
“A foundation that could support women, everywhere, with postnatal illness and depression, and…” I mused.
He nodded and smiled. “And everything in between. Can I have my reward now?”
I shook my head. “Nope, I want to talk this through. You can wait just a little bit,” I said, teasing him. I gave him the tiniest peck on the lips. He sighed but relented.
“But how would it work? Foundations are huge things… they need money, they need organisation, they need all sorts. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
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