by Mj Fields
“Well, we’ll have an interesting day. I hope you’re not too tired, Rebekah.”
I Got Your Bitch
Z
Sitting at my desk in front of my computer, my brothers surround me.
“You’re such a bitch.” Xavier laughs.
A couple years ago that would have started a fight. Not anymore.
I shrug. “So be it.”
“I mean, really, if Momma Joe had any chance of having a girl, it would have been you.” He laughs again.
“Because I’m more interested in the art of pleasure that builds a mind-blowing orgasm that comes from her soul than just hearing my woman call out my name as she comes?”
“Drama queen.” Cyrus, the oldest of us four, chuckles.
“Be nice, man,” Jase says, sticking up for me.
“Thank you, Ja—”
“I’m just happy he’s not snuggling with Momma’s bras and fucking vacuum cleaners anymore.” Jase busts up laughing, and so do the other two clowns.
“You see that door?” I point. “Unless you’re going to help me, then use it.”
“Bitch baby,” Xavier says under his breath.
“Just remember who helped you through your first lay so you didn’t blow it too soon and ruin our reputations,” I point out.
“Ours?” He chuckles.
“You’re Steel; couldn’t have you tarnishing our name,” I tell him seriously.
To that, my older brothers nod.
They know it.
“Can you three fucking focus for five minutes?” I ask. “We have shit to do and only a few hours to do it.”
“Still don’t know how it’s our fault you got married at a fuck shop,” Jase comments, sitting down.
“It wasn’t a fuck shop,” I tell him for the hundredth time.
“You got married on the beach, Jase,” Cyrus reminds him. “And I got married at a house.”
“And again, I’m the fucking legend.” Xavier chuckles.
I roll my eyes then ask, “We got the church that Dad’s funeral was held at?”
Jase nods. “We do.”
“Momma doesn’t know, right?” I ask.
The church meant something to me. I wanted it to be there and I knew Momma would understand.
“No, which may bite you in the ass,” Cyrus warns.
“I’m her favorite; she won’t be mad,” I remind him. “And the girls will be staying with her and Momma tonight?”
They nod.
I smile. “Perfect.”
Dress Shopping
B
“I like it,” I tell Joe as she holds up a white wedding dress to be used for the gallery display.
She taps her lips. “Something’s off, though.”
Grabbing another off the rack, I ask, “How about this one?”
She looks at the dress, then me, then back at the dress. “Do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Pick your favorites, ones you would actually wear, ones that make you feel sexy.”
For the love of God, the way she says sexy … it’s like he would.
“What?” she asks curiously.
“Nothing,” I tell her, holding back my laugh.
Looking through racks of dresses, I find more than three that appeal to me, and she finds four she asks me to try on.
“May I make a suggestion?” the boutique’s stylist, a woman in her thirties with a short blonde bob, asks.
“Of course,” both Joe and I answer.
“The ones you’re picking—the trumpets, mermaid, and ball gown styles—are very form fitting and …” She pauses and considers her words. “The style you’re wearing now is looser.”
Joe smiles. “My daughter-in-law is six months pregnant.”
“Then I would consider—”
“I’m not getting married.” I roll my eyes. Didn’t Joe just call me her daughter-in-law? “We’re doing this for—”
“I think it would be exciting to try on some dresses,” Joe says to me. Then she turns back to the stylist. “Will you pick a couple?”
She does.
In the dressing room, I am looking at myself in a white bra and panty set, thankful the style is a little more reserved compared to what I normally wear. Then it dawns on me that it’s probably a good thing Zandor left before I dressed today or he would have had me in black or red.
I try on several dresses as Joe takes pictures to send to the artist, and I play along, smiling the entire time. At first the smiles are for the camera, but then because I’m actually having fun.
Standing in front of the mirror, looking at myself, I step into yet another dress the stylist has picked out. It’s off white with a deep burgundy spray of flowers on the bodice, flowing down the dress from an empire waist to the flowing loose bottom.
“You need help zipping, Rebekah?” Joe asks, opening the door.
I nod and whisper, “Yeah,” as I continue to look at myself.
I hear a clap and look up at the stylist.
“That’s the one.”
“How do you know?” Joe asks, looking at my refection in the mirror.
“She looks like she feels beautiful,” she says in a sweet singing tone. “And she does.”
I swear I hear a sniffle, so I look back at Joe, who quickly looks away.
“Okay pictures.” She turns and walks out.
I follow her, assuming the position on the circular podium in the center of the shop and smile while she takes pictures.
Once we are done and while I dress, Joe says she’s going to text the photos and let the gallery make the final decision.
When I come out, she is waiting at the door. “Ready?”
I look at her inquisitively. “They didn’t pick one?”
“Yes, but they’ll stop in and grab it.” She swings the door open. “Now let’s go.”
Tits
Z
“My wife is a fucking knockout,” I groan, adjusting my cock.
“Seriously, do you have no shame?” Xavier shakes his head.
“No, none,” I answer honestly, turning the computer and showing my brothers the last picture Momma Joe sent of my kitten in white.
“Very virgin-ness.” Cyrus nods.
“Her tits are huge,” Jase comments, doing a double take.
“Yeah, they fucking are.” I chuckle, picturing them in my mind. “Nipples have grown a couple shades darker since I planted my seed—”
Xavier stands up, almost throwing the chair back in his haste. “Okay, bro, just shut the hell up.”
Cyrus sighs tiredly. “That’s not gonna happen.”
I smile smugly, meeting them all in the eye when I tell them, “I can’t help that you all didn’t quite complete the evolutionary process.”
“Meaning?” X hisses.
“Meaning I’m more a man to talk about appreciating … beauty.”
“You’re talking about your old lady’s nipples.”
“Delectable little things they are.” I look closer at the picture hoping to see some nip. “And she’s not old.”
“Z, you aren’t right.” Jase laughs.
I shrug. “Let me ask all of you a question.”
“Shoot, but go easy,” Cyrus warns.
“When your wives gave birth, how did you not get hard?” I know damn well at least two of them are going to blast off into orbit.
Jase starts telling me, “You are one sick—”
“She had a C-section,” Xavier growls, cutting Jase off.
“I’m simply hoping to find a way not to want to lick it clean.”
“Z, shut your fucking mouth.” Cyrus shakes his head.
I smile inwardly. I got three out of three. A fucking hat trick.
“You’ll be lucky to be upright,” Cyrus warns, chuckling.
“Just hope you don’t go through the same shit we did, man.” Xavier runs his hand through his hair.
Xavier and Cyrus’s wives had horrible deliveries. Very rough on them, hell on
all of us.
I text Momma Joe back the dress I like best.
-This one. Thanks, Momma.
“And … send.” I stand up, rubbing my hands together. “Now, let’s go clean out my playroom and make room for my son.”
“An hour? That’s all it took to move everything out of our playroom?” I mumble.
Cyrus clamps his paw on my shoulder. “Lighten up, buttercup. You may not be able to slip it in whenever you want, but the littles are pretty damn amazing.”
“Littles?”
“Little Steels,” Jase explains, lifting a box.
“Steel 3.0.” X smirks as he moves to the end of the bench. “Grab the end of this … whatever the hell it is.”
I sigh. “Spanking bench.”
Cyrus laughs. “God gave you two knees, bro. You don’t need a fucking bench.”
“No shit,” I grumble. “But fuck, it’s hot.”
Spa Day
B
When we walk into the spa at the Marriott, Carly, Tara, Taelyn, and little Bell are waiting.
“Hi, Aunt Bekah,” Bell beams.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” I whisper when she hugs me.
“Momma Carly got me out for some girl time without Kiki,” she whispers proudly. “Don’t tell Dad. He’ll flip.”
“It’s our secret then,” I whisper back as we all walk down the hall toward our first stop.
“On the menu for today”—Joe says as we all start to change into our uber-soft, lush spa robes—“waxing and facials, a nice body scrub, manicures, pedicures, and then a massage. Sounds heavenly, doesn’t it, Bell?”
“Not the waxing part,” Bell says, looking borderline terrified. “I’ve seen Momma Carly get her eyebrows done, and she almost cries.”
Momma Joe laughs. “Well then, we’ll start you right out with the facial.”
Relief flashes over Carly’s face, and I giggle, knowing she probably doesn’t want Bella to know that some of us may wax a little more than our eyebrows.
“You wax everything?” I whisper to Carly.
“I’ve used the lotions before,” she answers with near terror in her eyes. “Not a good experience. I’ve waxed a few times, but Jase …” She pauses, her face starting to turn pink. “He’s good with a razor.”
“Nice.” I smile. Very nice.
The of age and none pregnant Steel women drink champagne. The rest of us drink sparkling juice.
Bella is in heaven, and she does a million toasts. Some come very close to being inappropriate.
I wonder where she gets that from, I joke to myself.
Throughout our heavenly experience, Momma Joe takes tons of pictures and has others take pictures, too. Namely, Taelyn.
When I offer to take a picture, Joe totally ignores me and hands Taelyn the camera.
I feel bad for her.
It’s odd. Joe, never makes any of us feel less loved than the other, but today … Today I swear it’s like Taelyn is the red-headed stepchild.
I’m worried about her, but I know it’s not my place to say anything.
Zandor will tell me what I should do, and he won’t tell Momma Joe that I think her behavior is odd.
My Tool
Z
Sitting at the kitchen table, my brothers and I are eating Momma Joe’s lasagna and garlic knots when my phone chimes.
-Is Momma Joe okay?
- Good evening, kitten. She’s with you, so I assume you’d know better than I. What’s going on?
- Just a weird feeling.
- Are you feeling extremely sensitive right now?
It takes her several minutes to respond.
-No!
I can’t help chuckling.
-Enjoy.
-Taelyn and her seem to be off, Zandor. Any reason?
-I love you.
-Ugh!
- Enjoy the spa, Kitten.
I sit back and chuckle.
“Everything good?” Jase asks.
I nod. “Of course.”
After they eat, it’s time to say good-bye to them for a couple of hours.
I go to the basement and grab a box, carrying it upstairs and into the now empty playroom. I set it in the middle of the floor and look around.
It’s empty and, in just a couple of months, it is going to look like Jase, Cyrus, and Xavier’s family rooms—wall to wall with toys. What they don’t buy, Momma Joe does.
I want it to be … different. I want it better than she had it growing up, for her and me.
In the garage, I grab an old toolbelt that Falcon left behind when he was helping me out with the bathroom remodel. Who the fuck am I kidding? He did it, and I stuck around and learned something. What I learned is I look good in a toolbelt.
I put it on, making sure there is a hammer and a few nails stuffed in the pockets, and then I walk back into the playroom.
I open the box and start pulling out pictures, laying them out around the perimeter of the room.
Family. Hers, mine, and us. Lots and lots of us.
I want this room to be about how our child came to be, and he came to be, because of love.
I lose track of time, getting lost in placement, switching it around again and again.
When I hear a gasp, I look up.
“What have you done?” She immediately has tears in her eyes, emotions boiling over.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” I tell her, walking over to her.
“Zandor …” She shakes her head, more tears falling.
I hold her tight as she cries.
When she steps back, she’s smiling and shaking her head. I wipe her tears away.
“You are amazing,” she says, sniffling. “Momma Joe told me to—”
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” I reach out and push a blonde curl away from her face.
Her head falls left. She opens her mouth to speak, yet nothing comes out.
“The first time I opened up to you about what I need sexually, you were hesitant. I told you I saw in you the same, and you asked me: What if you’re wrong?”
She shrugs. “You weren’t.”
“I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. For a moment, though, I was wrong about the false confidence you tried to exude.”
“I told you I didn’t want all of it. The kink. The clubs. The-”
“Yet you accept it, embrace it, and enjoy it. You’ve shown me otherwise. I made you come on a dance floor, surrounded by people. You allowed yourself to be completely consumed by the pleasure I was giving you. You allowed my hand to be down your pants in the lobby of a hotel. I fucked your tits, and your tongue lapped at my cock before I was ever inside you. The way you sucked my cock, taking it nearly all into your mouth to please me … and in turn, it pleased you.”
God, I want her, but not now. Not tonight.
“I bound your arms the very first time I fucked you. I licked cream from your body and fucked your pussy with fruit, and then ate it out of you. We’ve done that so often, still it’s insanely hot every time.”
She nods.
“I touched an untouched part of you, not giving you too much, allowing you to take what you could handle. I’ve pushed you, and you’ve fucking taken it all.”
Christ, I’m hard.
“There are still times when I need to let you know I’m in control, and times when I need to let go.”
She looks past me and around at the room. I see sadness and possible regret in her eyes.
I cup her chin, bringing her eyes back to me, and smile. “You were right. I need to give up a little control now.”
“No … I mean, yes, but …” She looks around again. “I didn’t want it all to go away. I love feeling the way you make me feel, Zandor Steel.”
“It’ll never go away. But you’re right; our child doesn’t need to be face-to-face with our sex life daily.” I smirk. “I mean, I think maybe we should soundproof our bedroom, but...”
“Where did it all go? God, I don’t think I want i
t gone.” She looks shocked and confused by her own statement.
“It’ll never go away, Kitten. But you … You need to go back to the hotel, because—”
“Oh, my God, we’re getting married tomorrow!” She laughs as she cries. “I can’t believe you tricked me!”
I shrug. “I love you. I love our child. It was selfish not to consider—”
“You’re not selfish,” she says, hugging me tightly.
“Yes, I am. I’m selfish because I want to watch you smile, and flip through picture books, and talk to our child about the day we married and how beautiful and loved you felt. If we have a little girl, I want her to see how much her mom loves a man deserving of her love.”
I lean in to kiss my wife when I hear Momma clear her throat.
“Busted,” I whisper against her lips.
“Let’s go, Bekah George. You’re getting married tomorrow, young lady,” Momma says in mock annoyance.
To that, Bekah grins.
“We’re really doing this?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes, absolutely.”
The Big Day
Standing in front of the small Catholic church my parents dragged us to when we were younger, the one where we said good-bye to our father for the last time, I look beside me.
Xavier is my best man, and my biggest pain in the ass. Next to him is Jase, Cyrus, and Falcon. We are in dark gray tuxes, and yeah, we look fucking good.
The small string section I hired is playing a very slow version of OneRepublic’s “Counting Stars” as the girls start walking down the aisle.
Bella is beaming, and damn does she look older than her age. We will never tell her that she’s walking with X, taking Taelyn’s spot since she wasn’t part of the family when Bekah and I got married.
The sisters-in-law, and then Bekah’s friend Tiffany walk down the aisle next, looking stunning in black.
When I see Bekah, I’m floored.