by Max Monroe
“Jesus,” I said with a jolt.
“Mary and Joseph,” Georgia added, as she pushed Kline out of the way and pulled my baby from my arms. “You’ll learn all about them in church.”
“What are you… How long have you been here?”
“Since your wife rudely barged in on us in bed,” Georgia said with a grimace-like smile and artificially cheery voice, her face directly in Ace’s.
“You cockblocked them?” I asked incredulously.
Oh, there’s irony in this.
Cassie waved it off and sank onto the couch beside me, utterly exhausted. “I didn’t cockblock them. The first time, I kindly waited outside their bedroom until they finished boning. And the second time, they were already dressed.”
“Cass—”
“I’m happy to report his dick is big, though.”
I started to laugh, and Kline looked down to hide his smile from his nearly apoplectic wife.
“You’re so twisted!” Georgia whisper-yelled, reaching up to cover one of Ace’s ears. “Stop barging in on us, and stop talking about my husband’s P-E-N-I-S.”
“Our kid can spell,” I offered jovially, and Georgia nearly hit the roof.
“You’re so perfect for one another it’s despicable!”
“Aw, Wheorgie,” Cassie cooed sleepily. “That’s so sweet.”
“That wasn’t a compliment!”
“Really?” Cassie questioned before turning to me. “Sounded like one to me.”
I shrugged. “Me too.”
“I supremely dislike you both.”
“Whatever,” Cassie murmured, sliding down and curling up with her head on my thigh. “Just watch our kid, and you can hate us all you want.”
Georgia’s eyes narrowed at Cassie’s pointed use of the word she’d been so careful to avoid. My eyebrows rose with my effort to school my features into something normal, something neutral, and Kline took it as his cue to step in.
“Come on, Benny. Let’s let them sleep or role-play or whatever it is they’re looking to do.”
“But I’m not done yelling at them!” she whispered.
Kline’s eyes flared with enjoyment. “How about you finish when you can actually yell? Sound like a good compromise?”
She took a deep breath and wiggled her head back and forth, but it was useless even if she found the ability to yell, Cassie already lay sound asleep on my thigh.
“Shh,” I emphasized, and just as I’d planned, I thought Georgia would officially lose it.
Kline shook his head at me and bugged out his eyes. I only felt half bad.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go spend time with Ace. I promise,” he whispered as he leaned into her ear and inhaled. It was an act of a man in love and one I practiced daily. “I’ll make sure you get yours back.”
And, that. Well, that scared me a little. Kline was entirely too smart for my good—and I didn’t think that would ever change.
As they stepped out of the room, Kline waved with a smile and I moved my gaze to the side of my wife’s peaceful face.
We were finally, finally alone, and I was more than ready for action.
But my wife was asleep for the first time in two days, and when I looked at the dark circles under her beautiful eyes, I couldn’t do anything other than accept my now universal truth.
This was what my wife needed—and I’d do everything I could to give it to her.
“Oh, c’mon, Daddy,” I whined and straddled Thatch’s naked body. I ground my pussy against the Supercock and let out the greedy little moans I knew he loved so much. “Just one more time. Pretty please?”
He threw an arm over his eyes. “You’re going to break my dick, honey.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m being a realist. Me coming again is a physical impossibility at this point.”
My husband was being a big old drama queen. The Supercock might still have been wet from our last fantastic bone session, but he was already getting excited between my persistent thighs.
I looked down and grinned, watching with fascination as the head of my favorite appendage slid between where I throbbed and ached for more. “Are you sure about that, Daddy?” The instant the word Daddy left my mouth, he got even harder.
“It’s just a prop at this point.” Thatch groaned in exasperation as I started to grind myself harder against him. “Seriously, honey. I can’t come again. I need sleep and food. Lots and lots of both.”
His stupid refusal and half-assed explanation only fueled my crazy to come barreling out of the gates like a racehorse after the gunshot goes off.
See, this is the point where most sane women would probably just give up and go eat lunch, but I have never been known for being sane.
Nope. No fucking way.
This is the point where crazy bitches like myself call bullshit on something like this.
I’d make Thatcher come hard and eat his motherfucking words for lunch.
At record-breaking speed, I was lying on my belly between Thatcher’s thighs and the Supercock was inside my mouth. I sucked him deep and didn’t hold back my enthusiasm and need to taste him.
“Fuck, Cass.” A deep, heady moan left his lips, and I knew I had the big, sexy ogre exactly where I wanted him.
I was a woman on a blow job mission, and I didn’t waste any time. The tip of my tongue slid up and down his shaft, exploring the texture and feel of him, while I continued to draw him deeper and deeper into my mouth.
“Oh, holy fucking shit,” he groaned. “I have no idea what you do with that little tongue of yours but…yeah…holy…hell…don’t stop, honey. Jesus, don’t stop doing that.”
Uh-huh…that’s exactly what I thought…
His hips started to punch forward of their own accord, and no more than two minutes later, my husband came hard on a shout.
One hundred and twelve seconds to be exact, but who’s counting, right?
Yeah, I definitely was.
I climbed up Thatch’s body and rested my chin on his chest. His lungs moved air in and out at a rapid pace until he finally caught his breath. His eyes met mine and he half smirked, shaking his head. He looked equal parts shocked and awed, surprised and fucking blown. Literally and figuratively.
“You’re a wickedly amazing woman.”
I licked along my bottom lip and then smacked both of my lips together. “And you taste mighty, mighty fine when you come.”
He chuckled and reached down with both hands and pulled me farther up his body until we were nose-to-nose. “You just can’t back down from a challenge, can you, Crazy?”
I grinned. “When you throw down the gauntlet, you can bet your sweet ass I’ll always be ready and willing to pick it up.”
“You’re insane, honey.”
“And I’m all yours.”
“Mine.” He winked. “All fucking mine.”
“I’d say you’re one lucky son of a bitch to get all of this crazy plus a fantastic rack wrapped up in one package.”
“The luckiest,” he corrected.
“Awww,” I cooed. “Are you sweet on me?”
His answering grin was the size of Texas. “Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”
I placed a smacking kiss to his lips and hopped off the bed.
“Hey!” he complained. “Bring those sweet tits back over here!”
“Pussy playtime is over, Thatcher,” I called over my shoulder as I headed into the bathroom. “It’s time for a shower and some food.”
An hour later, we were freshly showered and sitting inside the main dining room of the resort. We savored the alone time and leisurely sipped our coffee as we perused the lunch menu. It was safe to say we were both thankful for the earlier hotel fuck fest and some quiet adult time away from our beautiful baby boy.
Of course, we both adored our little buddy. But sometimes, parents needed a little time away from their kids. It was a fact of life. Even when you lov
ed your little person more than you had ever loved anyone or anything in the entire world, sometimes you just needed a little bit of alone time to keep your sanity.
Yeah, we needed to do this more often.
I made a mental note to utilize our pseudonannies even after we got back to New York. Ace loved playdates with Walter and Stan. Although, I had a feeling Walter wasn’t my son’s number one fanboy. He tended to shy the fuck away from Ace’s hulk-like baby grip on his fur. Walter—read as Satan—was a total pussy through and through, that was for damn sure.
After the waitress took our orders and menus, I curled into my husband’s side and enjoyed the ambiance of a bustling Bahamian resort. A young couple strolled through the hall arm in arm and with a gorgeous newlywed glow highlighting their faces. Four tipsy twenty-somethings meandered by with tropical drinks and beers in their hands as they headed toward the casino. And an adorable woman holding the most beautiful baby I had ever laid eyes on grinned up at her besotted husband…
Wait a minute…Oh, fuck…Kleorgie…
I crouched down in my seat and tried like hell to pull my ogre of a husband down with me, but it was useless. Thatch’s big, meaty arm only moved enough to spill orange juice out of the glass he held in his hand. “What the fuck, Cass?”
“Nannies alert,” I whispered and glanced toward where Georgia and Kline stood in the hall adjacent to the dining room.
Thatch’s eyes followed my gaze and immediately went wide when he put the puzzle pieces together. “Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“You think they saw us?” He crouched down in his seat, which did absolutely nothing. We’d need some serious Houdini, black-magic kind of shit to make a man of my husband’s size disappear.
“Not yet.” I shook my head. “But if we don’t make a plan fast, the cat will be out of the fucking bag.”
“Is it bad that I want our nannies to watch Ace for just a little bit longer?” he managed to whisper impressively without moving his mouth. Thatch had officially gone into commando mode and seemingly had been a ventriloquist in a former life. “I mean, should I feel like a shitty parent for wanting just a few more moments of alone time with my wife?”
“If that makes you a shitty parent, then consider us both shitty parents,” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
“We’re on the same page, then?”
“Yep.”
“All right,” He glanced around the room, and as one of the hostesses guided an older couple toward their table, Thatch snatched the menus out of her unsuspecting hands.
She stopped dead in her tracks, and her eyes went wide in confusion.
“Just need to borrow these for a moment,” he explained and nodded his head toward my tits. “She’s breastfeeding, and I need to make sure she’s getting enough calories.”
The hostess looked at my chest, and once realization set in that she was now just staring at some random woman’s boobs, her face flushed red. She stumbled awkwardly over her shoes as she tried to extricate herself from the weird situation my husband had just placed her in. Honestly, I had never seen someone rush two elderly people to their seats faster.
I rolled my eyes. “Real smooth, Thatcher.”
“Well, I didn’t see you coming up with a better plan.” He handed me a menu. “Here. Hide behind this until the coast is clear.”
I rolled my eyes, but I still followed his instructions and hid behind the laminated food list. “Is this the kind of shit you used while you were stalking me?”
He shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
“Jesus. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out on my own if these were the kind of stealth tactics you used to hide your presence.”
“I was a little more prepared in those situations,” he admitted.
“So you were like full on stalking me? You knew my schedule and eating habits and everything?”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
“Did you rummage through the trash for my wrappers and food containers and used tampons?”
His face scrunched up in disgust. “I wasn’t a homeless person, Cassie. I was stalking you. And you were pregnant. I didn’t expect to find tampons.”
I sighed dreamily. “Probably the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.”
It really was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. I mean, my husband had loved me and our baby so much that he had literally driven himself to the point of insanity and followed me everywhere just to make sure we were okay. If that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what the fuck was.
“I know, right?” he agreed. “My love for you has no limits, honey.”
I snuck a quick kiss to his lips before peeking above my menu to see if Kleorgie had left the building. I was met with disappointment when my eyes caught sight of Kline’s head. “Goddammit, will they ever leave?”
“Next time, I think we need to set our sights on Wes and Win. They’d probably make better nannies.”
I sighed. “I know. I tried them first, even demon-dialed Winnie like one thousand times this morning, but she never answered.”
My phone pinged with a text notification, and I slyly pulled it out of my purse while staying behind my menu. I read the message and immediately groaned. “Fuck. Now, she’s texting me.”
Georgia: How’s it going? Is it okay if we bring Ace back up to the room?
“Jesus. Our fucking nannies are stage-five clingers,” Thatch whispered.
He was right. They were really doing a bang-up job of cockblocking our quiet adult time.
Me: I have the absolute worst headache right now. Mind if I try to sleep this off for a little longer?
“What are you saying to her?”
“I’m lying to her. Telling her I have a headache.”
“Good idea,” Thatch agreed.
Georgia: Oh, no. Are you okay? Can I bring you anything?
“For fuck’s sake,” Thatch groaned as he read her response. “Does she ever give up?”
Me: Awww, you’re so sweet, but I’ll be okay. Just another hour or two of shut-eye and I should be good to go.
Georgia: So, are you going to grab the “shut-eye” before or after you eat?
Me: Definitely before I eat anything. Not sure my stomach could handle food right now.
Georgia: So, you’re just going to sleep at the table? Not sure that’s a good position for a headache…
Me: Huh?
Georgia: WE CAN SEE YOU ASSHOLES. GO AHEAD AND PUT YOUR MENUS DOWN.
Mayday…Mayday…the eagle has been spotted…
“Jig is up. Kleorgie is hip to our game, T,” I announced at a normal volume and set my menu on the table.
Thatch’s eyes went wide for a second until I pointed to the screen of my phone. He read the last text, and his shoulders sagged in defeat as he tossed his menu on the table. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Shit.”
Georgia: Your baby is fine btw.
“Ace is doing good, though.”
Thatch smiled. “Have her tell him we love him.”
I nodded. “Good idea.”
Me: Tell him Mommy and Daddy love him.
Georgia: You’re lucky I love my godson so much.
Me: Awww, and I know he loves his Auntie Georgia so much, too.
My eyes met Georgia’s, and she flipped me the bird before adjusting Ace on her hip and walking in the opposite direction of the dining room.
“Well, that went better than I thought it would go.”
“Yeah…” Thatch nodded and took a sip of coffee. “Can’t say I’m disappointed with the outcome.”
“Me either,” I agreed and then pointed to the dessert section of the menu that now sat on the table. “I think we should go for the Bananas Foster for our after-lunch dessert.”
He winked. “Perfect plan, honey.”
“Are you sure Lex is okay with Quinn?” I asked for probably the fourth time. I hadn’t questioned it at first, my little girl hanging out with the quarterback of my pr
ofessional football team at a resort in a foreign country, but Kline’s astonishment when I had mentioned it to him upon our arrival went a long way to open my eyes. He didn’t get astonished about much, and if he was questioning it, I figured maybe I should be too. I’d just been too distracted this morning to put all of this well-meaning transference together—good God, Winnie’s legs wrap around me nearly twice.
“And Sean and Mitchell and Melinda and half the other players on the team?” Winnie asked sarcastically. I narrowed my eyes.
Her laugh rang out, rough and, yet, somehow melodic, through the open space of the lobby, and just like that, I wasn’t even the slightest bit annoyed with her teasing anymore.
“Yes. I’m fairly certain that Lex will be fine without us.”
I pouted a little anyway. Lexi Winslow made me smile, and I liked to spend time with her. My stupid players were hogging all the fun and beating me out by a mile in appeal. Apparently, even little girls didn’t mind a little positive attention from a bunch of brutes.
“Aw, don’t be sad,” Winnie consoled with a far too cheery lilt and a giggle.
“We’re the boring parents,” I sulked.
“Speak for yourself.” Her cheek lifted and jerked with the pop of a wink as she lifted up the hem of her shirt to show me the four-leaf clover tattoo she’d gotten spontaneously—by Thatch, no less. She said something about it bringing us luck.
All I saw was sex appeal.
God, yeah. Sex would make me feel better.
“Maybe we should—”
“Hey, look! It’s the people you’re having elaborate daydreams about,” Winnie said with a gesture toward the lobby café, the grand sweeping movement of her arm meant to force me into the convenient segue in conversation.
I followed her prompt and scanned the room, but it didn’t take me long to understand—Thatcher Kelly stood out like a very large sore thumb. One of those double-jointed ones you can’t help but stare at.