by Lacey Black
When she’s standing directly in front of me, a smirk on her face that’s a cross between I told you so and happy to see me, I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my embrace. She goes willingly, the soft, pale blue dress fluttering against my body, and already making me hard. My wife is a fucking knockout, whether she’s dressed up or wearing an old t-shirt and shorts around the house.
“So nice of you to show up,” she fakes annoyance, though I can see more elation in her eyes than aggravation.
“Well, I had nothing else to do tonight,” I reply. “Besides…you.”
She blushes in my arms, gripping the back of my dress shirt with one hand. “Did you get it finished?”
“The last coat of paint is drying now,” I reply, taking her glass in my hand and bringing it to my lips. When the cool champagne hits my throat, I grimace. “That’s not beer.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“That’s okay,” I reply, setting the glass down on the table beside us. “I don’t mind the taste of it…when it’s on your lips.”
Then I move, kissing my wife for the first time since I left for work very early this morning. She tastes sweet, like champagne and fruit, and like Jaime, a flavor I could never get enough of. My tongue teases her lips, begging for entrance, which she obliges immediately. I don’t even care that I’m probably smearing some sort of lip shit all over my face. I’ll wear that shade of pink proudly.
“How was our angel tonight?” I ask, nipping at her bottom lip and threading my hands into her hair.
“She was perfect,” she replies, breathlessly.
“Let’s have another one.” The statement doesn’t surprise me as it rolls off my tongue. It’s not something we’ve discussed much, but definitely something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I want Amelia to have siblings. Lots of them.
“Usually that doesn’t happen right away. They have to cook for, say, nine months,” she quips with a smile against my lips.
“I know, but I’m ready for another. Amelia needs a baby brother or sister,” I tell her honestly.
“She does,” Jaime agrees, hugging me tighter. “She’ll make a great big sister.”
“The best.”
“The closet’s available, if you’re looking to get a jump start on this plan,” I hear in a frail voice just over my shoulder. I can’t help but laugh when our private little moment is broken by her grandparents.
“And you know this how?” I ask. The words are out of my mouth before I can reel them back in.
“Weddings make me horny,” Emma says with a casual shoulder shrug, while Orval just grins.
“TMI, Grandma,” Jaime mumbles, reaching for her champagne glass and finding it empty.
Taking the glass from my wife, I say, “I’ll go get you a refill.” As I walk away, I can’t help but smile as Jaime’s eighty-something year old grandma begins to discuss positions for optimal baby making. Silly woman, I’m pretty sure my wife and I have all of those positions down pat by now.
I make my way to the bar and order a refill for Jaime and a Bud Light for myself.
“‘Bout time you showed up,” my brother-in-law, Linkin, says as he saddles up next to me at the bar.
“Not you too. I’ve been hearing about it all day via text from my wife. I could practically hear her dramatic sighs of annoyance all the way across town,” I tell him with a smile as I pop a bar mint into my mouth. I’m fucking starving.
Linkin laughs. “Oh, I’m sure. If I were in your shoes, Firecracker would have chewed my ass up one side and down the other. She’s feisty like that,” he says with a smirk.
“I’m not sure I need to hear any more about your wife eating your ass, dude,” I tease, earning a laugh from Linkin.
“Look who finally decided to show,” Levi says as he joins us at the bar.
“Well, I had nothing better to do,” I reply, taking a drink of the beer that’s placed in front of me. I throw a few bills on the bar and turn to face the guys.
“I bet. Get everything all wrapped up?” Levi asks.
“Yep. The Sloan family is back in their house tonight and the trellis is on the beach, ready for tomorrow.”
“Good deal. I’m sure your wife is breathing a sigh of relief,” Levi adds.
“She is thankful I’m finished,” I reply, glancing over his shoulder. Jaime walks toward our daughter, who jumps in her mom’s arms willingly. Jaime spins her around, both of their dresses flaring out dramatically. I can hear their laughter from over here.
“Excuse me,” I say to the guys, patting Linkin on the back as I make my way to my family. They draw me in, like some invisible cord is pulling me in their direction.
I’m already smiling as I approach. “Look how beautiful you are in your dress,” I say to my almost-two-year-old daughter, as I place a kiss on her forehead.
“Mommy curled me,” she exclaims, grabbing her short brown hair and trying to show me her curls.
“And they look simply stunning,” I say with a soft smile, my arms instantly going around my wife. “Are you having fun playing with your cousins?” I ask, resting my chin on Jaime’s shoulder.
“Yep! Morrow I play too!” she boasts with a lopsided grin.
“Yes, tomorrow you’re going home with Grandpa Brian and Cindy with all of your cousins,” Jaime says softly, mimicking our daughter’s excitement.
“I can’t believe they’re taking them all,” I whisper.
“Me either. Seven is a lot to handle,” my wife replies, her voice tinged with worry.
“They’ll be fine. Between the two of them, they raised eight kids,” I remind her.
“I know, but it’s the first time they’ve taken them all together.”
“The kids will have a blast.”
Jaime relaxes in my arms. “You’re right, they will.”
I nip at her earlobe, running my tongue along the shell. “And we get a whole night of baby making.”
Her breath hitches and I feel her sway back into my chest. “We do,” she replies in a whisper. She turns her head and places her lips on my own, a gentle kiss that’s full of so much promise. It takes all I have not to spin her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her that much more. The only thing that keeps me from doing it is the slap I receive on my cheek and the little giggle that follows.
Before I can remove my lips from my wife’s, I feel Amelia’s mouth on my chin, giving me kisses too.
Wrapping them tightly in my arms, I can’t help but sigh. Damn, I have a good life. A job I love, a beautiful home filled with laughter, a family that I love more than life itself, and a sexy wife who still makes my blood boil with the slightest crook of her finger.
And this is only the beginning…
Chapter Three
Payton
“Do you think he finished?” I ask my husband, turning my eyes away from where my brother-in-law, Ryan, wraps his arms around my sister.
“I’m sure he did,” Dean says beside me, trying to hold on to a wiggly Noah. Our son just wants to get down and run with the rest of them. “He’s good at what he does,” he reassures me. You’d think it was my wedding day tomorrow, since I’ve been more stressed about the trellis not being complete than the bride herself.
“You’re right, he is. I’m sure it’s the best trellis out there.”
I glance around at the room, taking in my family mixed with Nick’s. Brielle plays with her twin cousins, Hudson and Hemi, while little Stella runs over and steals a bite of something sweet off her mom’s fork.
“Do you wish we would have done this?” Dean asks, finally getting Noah to calm down in his arms. Our son is terrible at falling asleep, especially when he thinks he might miss something that’s happening around him.
“What?” I ask, slightly confused by his question.
“This. A real wedding.”
Glancing over at my husband, I see his concern written all over his handsome face. My mind flashes to our quickie wedding in Las Vegas. The jet ride from my dad, th
e securing of the marriage license and rings, the ceremony at that beautiful little chapel on the strip.
The reason for the urgency.
My eyes instantly go to my daughter once more. No, she may not be mine by blood, but she’s mine in every way that matters. For four years, I’ve been the only mother she’s had – except for Dean’s mom, Gretchen. Bri’s birth mom took off shortly after she was born, realizing she didn’t want the life in front of her. Brielle was this beautiful five-year-old little girl when I met her, and she instantly stole my heart.
When we checked into adoption, it was noted that our relationship was strong, but we lacked the rings on our fingers that a judge would appreciate. With a court date looming to make the adoption final (with no contest from her birth mother), we hopped on a private jet and flew to Vegas.
Best decision I ever made.
“Never,” I tell him honestly, stepping into his personal space. He wraps his free arm around my shoulder and pulls me close into his side. Our son is snuggled into the other shoulder, gently mimicking the motions of sucking on a pacifier (which we took away from him two weeks ago), his eyes closed as he drifts off to sleep.
“Are you sure? We could always have a real wedding,” he suggests softly.
“We had a real wedding,” I remind him. “We just did it differently than most. I loved our intimate little ceremony. I wouldn’t change it for anything,” I reassure him.
Dean looks at me. “It was pretty special, wasn’t it?” He offers me a small grin, his glasses perched on his nose, which somehow makes him that much hotter. He’s a serious DILF. You know – Dad I’d Like to Fuck? He knows exactly how much I love those damn glasses.
“What are you thinking about? You just got this look in your eyes like you’re ready to pounce on me,” he says, his own brown ones heating up a few thousand degrees.
“You. And your glasses. And how much I like it when you take them off right before you come to bed. Naked.”
Dean groans quietly beside me. “You have to do that now? Not only am I holding our son, but we’re surrounded by family. And I now have a massive hard-on because all I can think about is taking you home and devouring your gorgeous body from head to toe.”
“Sign me up,” I whisper with a wink, earning me another moan.
“Dean McIntire, did you smuggle a baseball bat into this rehearsal dinner?” Grandma asks as she approaches us.
Now it’s my turn to groan. “Don’t talk like that around my son,” I chastise my grandmother, hoping to spare my poor child’s ears of what I had to listen to much of my adult life – and much of my teenage years.
“He’ll want to know where he came from, Payters,” she coos, reaching over and running a delicate hand over Noah’s forehead.
“Yes, but not for another twelve years,” Dean adds softly.
“I’ll be long gone by then, but I’ll be sure to will my magazines and movies to the boy,” my grandpa adds, an ornery grin on his face.
“Not necessary, Grandpa,” I tell him, trying not to laugh.
“Who else will I leave it all to? Them’s my boys!” Grandpa boasts like a proud peacock, making Noah stir in Dean’s arms.
“Anyway, I just thought I’d mention that the supply closet is open back by the restrooms. I might have told Ryan and Jaimers already, but they’re still up here. So it’s free!” Grandma exclaims proudly.
“Grandma, we’re not sneaking off to a closet. We’re in the middle of Meghan and Nick’s rehearsal dinner,” I remind the ornery ol’ woman.
“I know very well where we are, Payton McIntire. Give me the baby, and go fornicate in the closet. Don’t you know the bridesmaids are always hooking up at weddings? It’s practically a law!” she bellows, drawing the attention of Nick’s mom.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Yeah, well, you’re stubborn,” she argues.
“I’m stubborn? You’re just still bitter that you lost your red room,” I tease.
“I miss that room,” Grandpa says softly, placing his hand over his heart.
“Dad needed it for his grandkids,” I add.
“Yes, well, I guess it was time to retire the toy room. Your grandpa’s hips aren’t what they used to be, you know. After the replacement surgery at the end of last year, I knew it was time to let it go,” she says, turning to my grandpa. “We have a lot of great memories of that room,” she adds, patting his arm gently.
“The best, Emmie,” Grandpa replies with a knowing smile.
“Anyway, let’s talk about the closet,” she says, but I stop her right there.
“We’re going to be heading out soon to put Noah to bed. Why don’t you find Abby? I bet she’d love to fornicate in a closet,” I say of one of my youngest sisters.
“Again, Payton. She’d love to fornicate in a closet again.”
I pull a grimace, not really wanting to think about my sister doing the nasty in a closet. They’re dark and dirty and…well, a freaking closet.
“We’ll just go find Abbers and the sexy fireman,” Grandma says, grabbing Grandpa by the hand and pulling him toward their next victim.
“Can we not have just one nice family function without the words orgasm or fornication?” I ask, dumbfounded, as they walk away.
“I don’t recall them using orgasm, sweetheart,” Dean says, gently swaying as he rocks our son.
“No, but it was next. They would have gone into great detail on something I – and no one in this room – wants to know anything about. They’re eighty-five, Dean. How in the hell can they still be going strong like rabbits at that age?”
“I think they are the youngest eighty-five-year-olds in the world, and who knows, maybe all of the sex keeps them young,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
I snort. “You said the sex.”
“I guess they’ve rubbed off on me in the last few years,” he says with a shrug.
“That’s not a good thing,” I argue, rubbing my son’s back as he snoozes against his father’s chest.
The sight of these two together still pulls at my heart. There was a time where I thought I’d never have this. In fact, the doctors told me it was almost certain that I wouldn’t. I tried to push Dean away, but he wouldn’t go. He fought me, tooth and nail, and refused to let me ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.
Dean. Brielle.
And eventually, our Noah.
It’s funny that we tried all sorts of things, and nothing worked. The stress of wanting a baby so badly, and not being able to actually conceive, is almost overwhelming. On everyone involved. We decided to take a step back and breathe. Hell, we needed it. You know, decide what steps we might want to take after, and the next thing I know, I’m pregnant. On my own. Without drugs or medicine or crazy books with old wives’ tales. Just me and Dean, and the beautiful miracle we created.
Our son.
The perfect addition to round out our family…
Chapter Four
Dean
“He’s probably out for the night,” I whisper to the beautiful woman standing beside me.
“Yeah, we should head out. We’ve got a big day tomorrow and could all use a little sleep,” she says quietly as she gently rubs our son’s back.
Our son.
Something I thought I’d never actually say.
And do you know what? That would have been okay. If I’d spent the rest of my life with only Brielle and Payton, I would have died a happy man. But now that we have Noah? Now I know what it feels like to have a full, happy life. I’ve got all I need right here, in this room.
“You’re probably right,” I say, glancing around the room to find our daughter. “You’ll have to be the one to round up Miss Bossy Pants.”
Payton smiles. “She’s been extra bossy tonight with all of her little cousins.”
“And she gets it honestly from her mother,” I tease, knowing full well that Payton can’t argue with me. She’ll try, of course, but she knows just as well as everyone else in thi
s room that Payton has always had the mother hen gene down pat, and thoroughly enjoys her role as oldest sister.
She turns my way, her eyebrows pulling together. “Do you want to have sex later?”
“Always.”
“Then you have to be nice to me. I can’t help it that I’m more authoritative than others,” she defends with her hands on her hips. Those damn hips that I love to grab, really dig my fingers into, while I’m buried deep inside her.
“That’s a very nice way to put it,” I tease with a snort, moving forward and placing a chaste kiss on her lips before she has a chance to argue. “And yes, I’d love some sex later. It’s always on the menu.”
“Not always,” she sasses before turning and heading in the direction of our daughter. I know she’s referring to the time I went out with the guys and had a bit too much to drink. I tried to sex it up with my beautiful wife when I got home, but she wasn’t too happy with my sloppy drunk state. There was definitely no sex that night.
I watch as she approaches our daughter, attempting to convince her it’s time to go. Bri glances at me, clearly not happy about the situation, but heads my way anyhow, shoulders dropped and a clear pout in full swing.
“But, Daddy, I’m not ready to go!” she says quietly the moment she gets close to me as to not wake her baby brother.
“I know, sweetheart, but Noah needs to get to bed, and you have a big day tomorrow as flower girl,” I remind my daughter.
“I can’t wait!” she proclaims, her brown eyes sparkling under the dim lights.
“Well, let’s get home so we can go to bed. The sooner we go to bed, the sooner you wake up and get to be flower girl,” Payton says with a smile. Their bond still makes my heart soar, in a very manly way, of course.
“And Aunt Lexi can do my hair?” she asks with excitement.
“Yes,” Payton replies.
“And I get to wear my pretty white dress like Aunt Meggy’s?” she asks for probably the fiftieth time in the last few days.
“Yes!” Payton exclaims with a laugh. “Let’s go say goodnight to Grandpa and Cindy, and we’ll get your brother home and in his crib.”