14
Fiona
Dylan didn’t leave my side during Rosie’s birth, and hasn’t left my side since. She’s six months old now, and asleep in the cradle in the next room. I’m in that sweet, delirious half-sleep, between awake and dreaming, only vaguely aware of the rising sun throwing its shadows across our bed. Dylan’s sound asleep next to me, his soft snores coming from the crease between my body and the mattress - he likes to sleep with his body curled around mine, his face pressed into my skin and one arm flung across my waist.
He sold his penthouse the week after Rosie was born; it wasn’t hard to sell, and he had few personal belongings he truly cared about. So he mostly left it to his agent, throwing his attention into finding and buying our own home, just outside the city. A luxurious six-bedroom home on Long Island, with not another soul in sight for miles. We’re paying for the privacy of being alone together in our little world of bliss. I can hear the crashing of the waves through the open French windows, matching the rhythmic breathing of my sleeping family: Dylan next to me, and Rosie in the next room.
I’m awake now, but then again I’m always awake it seems. Having a baby girl has made for constant awareness and vigilance. I hear her whimper, as she often does this time of morning, and immediately stir to go feed my daughter. But Dylan, who had apparently been more awake than I gave him credit for, presses his strong arm down, holding me in place, groaning sleepily.
“What?” I whisper laughingly.
“It’s my turn. Go back to sleep,” he answers groggily. “It’s okay, baby, I’m awake anyway,” I answer, and start getting out of bed again. But Dylan sleepily pulls me back in bed and towards him, kissing me on the nose.
“Stay. It’s okay, you've been up all night with her. It’s my turn. Try to sleep a couple more hours.” And before I can protest, he swings his agile body, clothed only in a pair of designer black boxers, out of bed. He winks and staggers out of our bedroom to our now crying baby girl.
Deliriously happy with love, I close my eyes and feel myself drifting back to sleep as I hear Dylan crooning to Rosie in the next room. Once or twice, on the edge of sleep, before I fall into the dark, welcoming abyss, I open my eyes just a crack. Through the doorway I catch a glimpse of my tall, broad-shouldered, Adonis of a boyfriend in his boxers, cradling our adorable baby girl in his arms as he feeds and sings to her. And I allow the darkness to welcome me with a contentment that can’t possibly ever be topped.
But I'm wrong.
I must have slept for longer than I planned, because when I wake up the sun is casting shadows on the other side of the room. I stir and squint, finding myself entirely alone and in perfect silence. Where are Dylan and Rosie? They must have gone for a walk. Rosie loves the sand pipers on the beach and Dylan can’t resist giving her whatever her little heart desires.
I stretch lazily, feeling curiously rested. I haven't felt this fresh in months, to be honest. It’s a perfect time for a nice, long, hot shower, so I step into the en suite and let myself relax under the pounding water. Coming out again and stepping into our bedroom almost a half an hour later, I feel incredible. And my feeling of euphoria is immediately met by a vision I wasn't expecting: there’s a dress hanging from a hanger on the outside of my wardrobe. It’s absolutely gorgeous: long, cobalt blue silk material cascades to the floor in elegant folds. I gasp - it’s the Versace I made a passing comment about last week when we watched the Oscars! The one Selma Hayek had been wearing. Holy shit, Dylan’s actually gone and bought it for me, and I see a note dangling from the sleeve. Coming closer I see it’s written in his handwriting:
My beautiful Fiona, please wear this dress and meet me on the South Lawn. Rosie and I will meet you there.
I giggle into my hands, unable to contain my delight. The South Lawn is a wide stretch of private beach immediately behind our house, shielded from the breeze by glass wind breakers, and lined with flower boxes full of roses. It’s incredibly romantic, and my favorite place for a picnic - and Dylan knows it. Suddenly overcome by an intoxicating rush of excitement, I throw my towel on the floor and take the cobalt blue dress off the hanger.
It fits perfectly. The thin straps are long, allowing for a very low neckline, just above the nipples. The bodice of the dress hugs my huge tits, now even bigger and more swollen than usual because of breastfeeding. It presses them together so that I look like some kind of fertility statue. The rest of the silk folds cascade down my body, draping me in delightfully soft and airy material. I look in the mirror and actual tears come to my eyes: I look like a queen. Even I have to admit that. I feel like I’m seeing myself through Dylan’s eyes - I’d been feeling so blubbery and large after giving birth to Rosie, but Dylan always insisted he loved my body just as it was, telling me I looked like a goddess. I never believed him - until now. Because the dress is ravishing on my curves, and with Dylan’s love and support behind me, I finally believe it. My heart pounds rapidly, and I take a deep breath, smiling at myself in my reflection before tussling my long brown curls. I decide against make-up. I'm feeling beautifully natural.
I see them immediately when I exit the porch and head down the South Lawn. Dylan is wearing white linen pants and a white shirt, and has Rosie on his arm, who is dressed in a little cobalt blue dress to match mine. They see me at the same time: Rosie shrieks happily, bouncing in her daddy’s arms. Dylan is simply beaming at me while flashing that incredible smile. And with anticipation, I approach them as if I’m gliding on air, riding the wings of love with the cobalt blue silk billowing softly in the breeze.
“You look absolutely incredible,” Dylan whispers in awe as I approach him. I kiss him and then turn to Rosie, scooping our adorable little smiling girl up in my arms and smothering her with kisses. “Why don’t you put her down here?” asks Dylan quietly, pointing into the sand. It’s only then that I notice a gorgeous, elaborate picnic laid out in the sand, with champagne on ice and all my favorite foods. Rosie’s little beach chair is tucked off to the side.
“Wow!” I exclaim, laughing. “Oh my god, Dylan, this is amazing! What’s the occasion?” I ask him, putting Rosie down.
“You are,” he says in his deep, gentle voice. I look up in surprise and find him close to me, smiling that gorgeous smile with its irresistible dimple. Before I can ask him anything else, Dylan gets down on one knee before me, pulling a little black velvet box from his pocket. Holy shit. My hand goes to my heart, as it feels like it’s skipped a beat, and my mouth falls open. Down from her little seat on the picnic blanket, Rosie giggles excitedly.
Dylan is looks up at me full of love and hope, and opens the box. Inside, glittering in the afternoon sun, is an enormous diamond ring. I gasp, unable to help myself.
“Fiona,” says Dylan. “I love you so much. You’ve made my life an actual dream - looking back I don't think I even knew I was alive before I met you. And now you've given me everything: a purpose, a life, and a beautiful daughter. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
I’m stock still for a moment before responding.
“Yes,” I exclaim through a fit of tears and laughter, my heart pounding a million miles a minute. “Yes, I will!” I reiterate. I see tears coursing down his face as he places the diamond ring on my finger - it fits perfectly. Then I fall into the sand on my knees beside him. And he kisses me as lovingly as he did in those feverish dreams of mine, back when I was without him during my pregnancy. Back when I used to dream about Dylan proposing to me and living happily ever after. Because who could have predicted that our real life happily ever after would be even more incredible?
After all, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I was a girl in an impossible situation. A woman who had dated twins and through a twist of fate, slept with both of them within one week. It’s not your usual set-up, and I didn’t expect either man to stick by my side. But my one true love, Dylan Masterson, came through for me. He showed me the power of passion and steadfast strength, and as a result, I live t
his life now, with my man and baby girl by my side, and a ring on my finger. What could be better? After all, sometimes a girl really can get lucky … and with Dylan Masterson by my side, good fortune will always shine.
Epilogue
Fiona
The sun has long gone done. Stars wheel overhead, and I don't know whether it’s the champagne I’m drunk on, or my love for Dylan and Rosie, or my excessive happiness. After Dylan proposed to me and I said yes, my mother showed up beaming.
“It’s part of the plan,” Dylan had grinned. Elaine is very much in the picture now that she has a grandchild, and she and Dylan are as thick as thieves.
“What plan?” I had asked him.
My fiancé grins.
“I wanted Rosie to be with us when I proposed. To be a family when I asked you to be my family,” he explained. “But now it’s time for you and me. Your mom will watch Rosie until tomorrow.”
I gasped because it’s the first time I’ve spent more than a couple of hours away from my daughter, but my fiancé was right. It’s good for Dylan and me to be alone together. Especially now, on this momentous night.
Because I’d been feeling so sexy since I gave birth to Rosie - like I had really found this incredible source of feminine charm after delivery. My tits were so swollen, my nipples so sensitive, my pussy awakened by nature’s gift. But I’d been so preoccupied with her and so tired around the clock that actual sex with Dylan had rarely happened. So the fact that we had time alone together on a romantic moonlit night was incredible.
Dylan and I have just been talking and eating and drinking together as we watched the sun go down, but now my body is responding to his presence. I find myself wanting him more than I've been able to allow myself all these months. And reading my mind, my man suddenly stops talking. Without a further word, he puts down the champagne glass he’d been holding, and leans down over me to kiss me. With a moan, I welcome his lips onto mine, responding hungrily. His hands slide under my torso, pulling me up towards him.
“Oh, Fiona,” he whispers in my neck. “You’re so delicious.” It sends shivers down my spine.
“I’ve been wanting this for months now,” I whisper back, and he gently cups my breast in his hand. I clasp my hand onto his with a sudden urgency he wasn’t expecting. “No, Dylan. I want you to take me,” I breathe through my passion for him. Suddenly my hunger for his enormous cock is too much. He nods, grinning, and reaches into my dress, carefully pulling each of my huge, swollen tits out of my dress, ogling my large, dusky nipples. “What are doing?” I whisper to him, wanting him to fuck me hard and strong. But he has other ideas.
“Teasing you,” he says, with that same cheeky grin. Then he lowers his tongue onto my nipples and starts licking them. They’re so hard and sensitive that my pussy immediately creams and I start moaning.
“Oh god, Dylan, wait,” I pant. But he continues. I lick my nipple on one breast while he gently dusts the other with the tips of his fingers. I’m moaning as if he’s actually fucking me, that’s how good it feels. My pussy clenches in lust and I find myself wondering whether it’s possible to come just from nipple play because I already find myself desperately close.
But I don’t have to wonder. It’s Dylan who can’t hold himself back. With a needy groan, it’s he who suddenly pulls out his cock and rears over me. I glance down and see the enormous hard rod he’s got in his fist. I see the lust in his eyes.
“Oh, yes, Dylan, fuck me with it,” I moan. It’s when he pushes my dress up over my hips and pins me down, shoving his huge cock into my pussy, that I realize how close he’s made me by licking my swollen nipples and tormenting me. I gasp as he slides his long, thick, hard cock in and out of my creaming cunt and already find myself on the edge.
“Wait for me,” Dylan groans, and I try, I honestly try. But as he grabs me tight by the hips and fucks me harder and harder, I can’t hold back anymore. I’ve wanted this for months.
“I can’t, Dylan,” I moan. “You’re gonna make me come.” He thrusts himself into me, pushing down deep and hard repeatedly, making my tits bounce so far up I can feel them hit my chin, and it makes him wild.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans under his breath, his lips almost on mine and our mouths open in lust. He grinds his cock against my G-spot and my clit at the same time.
“I’m coming,” I moan, and with that, my pussy contracts around his thrusting cock at the same time I feel him shake and pulse.
Together we erupt for the first time in months, holding our arms close around one another. And as I feel his seed unleash inside my channel, I open my eyes, thinking I’ll be seeing the stars. But instead it’s Dylan’s handsome face swimming above my vision. He grins, looking deliriously happy.
“I think we may have just made another baby,” I mewl, his cock still pulsing inside my clenching pussy.
“I hope so,” he answers out of breath, and pulls me up into his body as he closes his arms around my torso.
Because we’ll never know whether Dylan’s biologically Rosie’s father or uncle. The special test that Dylan alluded to back in the hospital room was inconclusive. So much for cutting edge new technology. But it doesn’t matter anymore because in the ways that count, Dylan is Rosie’s father. He’s her sun, moon, and stars, and also my everything. And with this man by my side, I know that anything can be done. Because I had the good twin’s baby … and we’ll never be apart again.
The End
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Sneak Peek: Just Two Much
Caden
The handsome twins masquerade as go-go dancers in Vegas, and it was my turn to enjoy their moves. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
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I saw her the minute she walked in. She was shy but looked around wide-eyed, trying to get her bearings in the dark. There were about ten girls in the group. It was your usual bachelorette squad, and as usual, they were more than a little drunk off their asses. As I watched, the girl in charge, obviously the bachelorette, whipped out a decanter from her purse, took a swig, and yelled “Yee-haw!” before leading the way to the center circle.
My brother Caleb was dancing at the moment in a banana hammock, the material stretchy and golden. He smiled at the girls, his moves flawless, showing off his pecs, abs and thighs as the girls flocked in a circle around him, oohing and ahing. A few began furiously digging into their purses for bills.
What can I say? My twin is sculpted and muscular. He’s a work of art because we work for these bods and aren’t afraid to use them.
But Caleb and I are just here for a weekend on a whim. It’s not like we need to dance for money – we’re billionaires after all, and more used to having girls dance for us. But sometimes it’s nice to turn the tables and be the object of lust for our bodies, instead of our wealth.
So Caleb ground and twisted, much to the delight of the women, and dropped to his heels, giving them a good look at those glutes before straightening again. I knew that more was coming though. He stood up and bent over, tensing his buttocks for the women to ogle. Not a few reached hands forward to touch, mouths gaping, although he skirted away just in time.
Here’s where it gets kinky. I snapped my blue banana hammock on and joined Caleb in the golden circle of light. Moving seamlessly, we began dancing in sync, grinding our hips, letting our huge bulges take the spotlight. But we went even further than that. We teased our fingers under the elastic of our hammocks, pulling the material aside fleetingly to tantalize the women with a glimpse of balls and maybe even a little hard shaft. Shit, the tip of my cock was poking out of my waistband because it was so stiff. I could see the outline of Caleb’s dick wrapped around his waist, like a snake in a blanket.
The girl with the aub
urn hair looked on with shock, her eyes wide as she downed mouthful after mouthful of alcohol. Management should have ripped that decanter from her hand because outside alcohol wasn’t allowed, but hey, that shit builds courage right?
At the same time, however, I had an odd urge to touch her. I wanted to make the color blaze in her cheeks and I could tell my twin had seen her too. Getting ready for our finale, we faced each other, not touching. Our hips gyrated with wide smiles on our faces as the girls cheered.
Slowly we ground our shafts closer and closer, inching forward little by little. The girls gasped, quite a few breathing hard as their eyes wide as they took in the show.
Finally, our groins touched, the gold fabric and the blue. Our members rubbed against each other through the cloth. Yeah, that’s right. My twin and I were grinding on each other, and let me tell you, based on the female screams all around, it was the hottest shit any of them had seen ever.
Meanwhile, the cute girl had finished whatever she was drinking and was now watching us with pure lust, undisguised, hungry and desperate. I could see that her hand had trailed down her pussy and she was fingering herself under the cocktail dress, her movements sharp and jerky. With a slight nod of my head, I gestured to the pit boss and he made his way over to the girl, whispering quietly in her ear.
Her eyes grew wide but she nodded and reached into her purse for some cash, handing it over wordlessly. Bingo! With one last smile, I made a thrusting movement with my hips, my twin doing the same and then we disengaged. We’d just secured another client … in the back room.
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#BABYCRAZY: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Page 7
