by S. M. Soto
“Here. Support his head and neck, and just cradle him against your body,” I instruct, passing him into my brother’s arms. Garrett takes Angel, holding him like he would a piece of glass. “There you go,” I encourage, seeing him start to relax at the feel of having a baby in his arms.
“What did you guys decide?”
I look over my shoulder at Creed, and I see the fierce protectiveness in his eyes. He’s already being territorial with our son only just a few hours after he was born. I smile at him, trying to ease his tension and much to my surprise, he returns it. That crooked smile spreads across his entire face and I can’t help but notice how boyish and carefree it looks on him.
“We named him Angelo, but I think we’re going to stick to calling him Angel.”
Garrett looks down at him. “Angel,” he tests the name out on his tongue and when he looks back up at me, I see his eyes red-rimmed, filling with emotions. “I like it. It fits him.”
“We thought so too.”
Once Garrett is done holding Angel, he passes him off to Alexis who completely gushes over him. She takes the seat in the chaise right next to me, holding him against her chest.
“I’m your aunty, sweet Angelito. Guess who’s going to spoil you? Guess who’s going to be my favorite guy?”
Jose steps up behind her, feigning offense. “And what am I? Chopped liver?”
We all laugh, but there’s a rueful twist to his lips as he stares down at Angel. I can tell he’s taken with his cuteness too. The rest of the guys crowd around the bed, around Alexis, and Lorenzo is the first one to say what is glaringly obvious.
“He’s a Sabella through and through.” There’s pride in his voice as he looks down at Angel. They may only be third cousins but it’s enough. Family is family, no matter what.
“He definitely is. He looks like he’s going to be Creed’s twin.”
“Good luck peeling los chiquita’s off him when he gets older,” Magdalene says, coming around the other side of the bed, where Creed is. We all stay like that for a while. Oohing and aaahing over sweet little Angel. I feel an immense wave of love. It’s overflowing in here. Filling the room with endorphins. This little boy already has a gang of people behind him, willing to protect him. I don’t think there’s anything that could make me happier.
When Angel starts to fuss from being passed around, he’s placed back in my arms after a diaper change for another feeding. He falls asleep in no time and watching his sweet little face, soft with sleep is slowly becoming my new favorite thing.
I’m just tossing my head back on the pillows, craning my head to the side to look at Creed when the sound of the door opening is followed by footsteps. We watch as Matteo walks in and I see the spark light his eyes when he looks at Angel. His expression is different from any that I’ve ever seen. Much like his sons was earlier. It isn’t scheming or anything bad like Creed has been warning me about or expecting from him. It’s different.
I see a flash of pain ripple over his features. No doubt from the loss of his wife and unborn child. I want to reach out to him and hug him since his wife is no longer here to do that. Instead I opt for the latter.
“Want to hold him?” I ask him and feel Creed stiffen next to me. I can feel the tense anger radiating from him. I try to ignore his reaction. I don’t have to though. Matteo shakes his head, silently declining, but still doesn’t take his eyes off our son. He steps in a little closer, and to make things easier, I twist as best as I can on the bed, giving him a better view of Angel. He’s just lying in my arms, curiously staring up at me. Having no idea he’s just changed so many people’s lives.
He’s so incredibly handsome. And not just because he’s mine. Not just because he’s a part of Creed. There are these sparse red patches decorating his skin—I read it’s common for newborns. They usually get it from get sitting in the womb, but despite that, I can see the slight tanning to his skin, identical to his father’s and grandfather’s. He has a full head of dark hair. Though, there’s no telling where that came from since both Creed and I share dark hair. But his eyes are a stark gray. Before giving birth, I read his eyes could be a barrage of random colors for a few weeks until they would finally stick to their normal color, but in his case, they’re already their normal color.
Fierce protectiveness overwhelms me as I stare down at him. I can’t believe that he’s mine. This little being is going to look up to me and Creed, and I can’t think of any other job that will be more rewarding than watching him grow.
“I heard there were complications. He’s healthy?”
I nod, smiling down at Angel. “He’s as healthy as ever. Six pounds and nine ounces. Eighteen inches long. We…” I clear my throat. “We went with the name Angelo.”
Matteo gives a stiff smile. “Congratulations. To the both of you.”
He looks at me first, then looks at Creed. But I realize Creed isn’t playing along. He’s just staring down at Angel like his father isn’t here at all.
I get it.
Maybe this is his way of punishing Matteo for the years he had to endure. Or maybe he’s looking at Angel and seeing all the mistakes his parents made. Deciding he won’t make the same ones. I can’t tell what’s going through his head. All I can see is the protective gleam in his eyes as he watches our son.
He’s our fierce protector. Through and through.
“Whenever you have a moment. I need to have a word,” he addresses Creed. My eyes shift warily between the two of them, wanting to ask more, but I decide against it. I’ve dealt with enough today, I just want to enjoy Angel without worrying about anything else. He walks out as quickly as he came in, glancing over his shoulder once more for one final glance at Angel before slipping back out.
I look back toward Creed and without stirring Angel awake, I shift my body on the bed, only wincing a little from the pain, patting the spot next to me.
“Come on. Lay down with us, Daddy.”
He smirks and surprises the hell out of me when he lays down beside me, swinging an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him. I snuggle into his chest, looking down at our sleeping boy. His little chest rises and falls in a rhythmic motion. When I glance up to look at Creed, I realize he’s already watching me.
“I love you.”
When I look into his eyes, I know he’s telling the truth.
“I thought I was going to lose both of you,” he whispers in a rough voice, his big calloused hand cupping my cheek. My heart twinges. When Dr. Chang explained what happened, that not many women and newborns survive AFE, I felt emotional. Just the thought of never being able to do this—not being able to experience this is torture.
“We’re still here,” I whisper, fighting back tears.
He leans down, sealing his lips over mine. We stay like that for a while. Laying on the bed with our newborn son. Like a family. A real, normal family.
“PEEK-A-BOO!”
Angel stares up at me, his wide little eyes watching my every move. I duck back behind my hands, covering my eyes, repeating the process all over again.
“Peek-a-boo!”
This time Angel makes a cooing noise, a curious expression inching across his sweet little face. I laugh, making a show of clapping my hands and singing to keep his little curious eyes on me. I dip the washcloth beneath the warm water that’s spraying his little legs and start lathering with the baby soap. I gently rub the cloth across his skin, trying to keep him entertained with silly faces and cooing as I give him a bath.
I wash his hair, careful of his soft spot, and move onto rinsing him before I wrap him in a towel.
“Are you my sweet baby? Yes, you are. You are, aren’t you?” I coo down at him as I lift him into my arms. I wrap him in a little blue towel decorated in baby whales. I let out a squeak of surprise when I turn, finding Creed leaning against the doorframe, a crooked grin twisting his lips as he watches us.
“How long have you been standing there?”
That crooked grin spreads, like ga
soline on a fire and he chuckles. The effect of it has the metronome in my chest pulsing to a new rhythm.
“Long enough.” He pushes off the doorframe, stepping into the warm atmosphere in the bathroom, somehow making it hotter—the air thicker. “Want some help?”
I smile, ignoring the heat snaking through my veins at his proximity. I didn’t realize going without sex with Creed would be so difficult. It’s gotten to the point, just hearing his voice is enough to have wetness pooling between my thighs.
Creed takes Angel from me, giving me a second to pull myself together and control my raging hormones. If I stare at Creed any longer, I won’t be able to peel my body off his.
I grab Angel some clothes and his baby lotion, and when I step back into the bedroom, with everything gathered in my arms, Creed is on the bed with Angel, leaning over him, whispering something in his ear. Angel makes his little coos and gurgles in his attempt to talk back to his dad. It has a smile spreading across my face. I settle next to him on the bed, unwrapping Angel so I can rub lotion on his soft skin.
“How’d it go?” I ask, referring to whatever he had to do earlier for Matteo. I’ve noticed his change of clothes from this morning, so I guess it went well, in terms of getting the job done.
Creed shoots me a look like I should know better than to discuss famiglia business with him.
It was worth a shot.
“Kristine called to let me know the invitations were delivered. You ready?”
I smooth the tabs of Angel’s diaper, raising my brows and shooting him a cheeky grin. “Are you?”
He smirks, reaching out to run the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. A thrill shoots down my spine, causing my nipples to harden, the peaks scraping against my bra. “I’ve never been more ready,” he whispers seductively over my lips.
Why do I get the feeling we aren’t talking about the wedding anymore?
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth to refrain from smiling and indulging him. I lift Angel into my arms, settling back against the pillows to feed him. After he’s fed and burped, sound asleep, Creed carries him into the nursery, laying him down in the crib. He turns on the monitor and I listen to his heavy footfalls trail away until he’s back in our bedroom.
The expression on his face has heat curling low in my stomach. I make myself busy with putting stuff away, the lotion, tossing the damp towel to hang to dry in the en suite bathroom. All to avoid falling into temptation. When these six weeks were up, I was going to ride him for a whole day straight, I was certain of it.
Of course, Creed has other ideas. Just as I’m heading back into the bedroom, I smack straight into his broad chest. Those rough hands catching me by the arms, trailing across my skin. My mouth drops open when his hands skim my hips, up to my waist. He settles his hands there, the pads digging into my skin. He’s not doing much, hell, he’s not doing anything at all, but there’s something so sexual about this moment. Swirling through the air. The sexual tension makes it hard to catch my breath.
Creed’s fingers graze the swell of my tits and I arch my back into him, a zing of pleasure shooting straight to my core.
“It hasn’t been six weeks you know,” I whisper. My mouth is saying one thing, but my body…it’s craving every part of him. His touch, his mouth, his cock. Creed dips, pressing his lips against my jaw and I moan. He kisses a path from my jaw down my neck, his tongue swirling against the skin there. He trails kisses toward my ear, licking the shell and sucking my earlobe into his mouth.
“In two more days, it will be.”
“So you’ve been counting?” I pant out excitedly, one of his rough hands scorching a hot path down my body, fiddling with the waistband of my pants.
“Every fucking second, baby,” he growls, lifting my shirt with deft fingers. He pulls it over my head and dips his mouth between the valley of my breasts. He bites the skin of my swollen breasts making me yelp. He smiles up at me. That dangerous calculating smile that makes me want to do very bad things with him.
Skimming my hands down his washboard abs, I work his jeans open, slipping my hand down his briefs. Stroking his hot length. A quiet noise rumbles in his throat, a mixture of satisfaction and frustration. Creed wraps his hand in my hair, tugging my head back, giving him the perfect access to my lips. He takes my mouth in a heated kiss that warms my heart. It sets my soul on fire. Our kiss burned into madness. A breathless, greedy sort of madness. It has me clawing at him, squeezing his cock in anticipation.
Just like I have so many times during these last six weeks, I drop down to my knees before Creed, staring up at him through my lashes. I pull his hardened cock free of his pants and briefs, mesmerized by the sight. It bobs, smooth and hard, sending a zing of pleasure straight to my core at the sight alone.
I wrap my hand around his hot, thick length. I stroke him from root to tip, my gaze fixed on the hints of veins running through his shaft and the glistening of precum at his tip.
I glance up at Creed just as I lean forward, my tongue peeking out to his lick his slit, catching his precum. My pussy clenches around nothing at the look in his eyes. His jaw looks as if it might crack under the pressure and his eyes blaze with so much heat, my skin is on fire. Slowly, I start pumping his length as I lick the underside of his shaft, never once tearing my gaze away from his.
“Fuck,” he curses, his hips jerking forward, deeper into my mouth on instinct. Completely turned on by the sheer pleasure written all over his face I suck him, my hand and mouth working in tandem along his shaft. His hand wraps around my hair and he guides my movements, fucking my mouth.
Suddenly, he pulls me upright, causing me to release his cock with a pop and a heaving chest.
“Are you dripping for me, Sophia?” His sensual words send a delicious chill down my spine and I whimper. His hand disappears down the front of my yoga pants and slides between my thighs. He slides my panties to the side, his fingers toying with my moisture, flicking my clit, sending a wave of pleasure through my body. “You’re fucking soaked, baby,” he groans. And as if drive his point home, he dips his fingers inside of my pussy. My arousal smacks against his fingers, it’s embarrassingly loud. The squelching sound would normally have me shying away, but I’m so far past caring, the muscles in my core clench and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.
My hips curl and twist toward his fingers as he works his magic. He rubs along my folds, dipping his fingers in and out of my channel and bringing my wetness back up to my clit and swirling around the nub.
“Fuck,” I breathe, grasping his face in my hand and bringing his mouth down to mine. I kiss him wantonly. Sliding my tongue against his, taking his bottom lip between my teeth. I kiss him like a woman consumed by lust and I am. Completely consumed by it whenever I am near this man.
My future husband.
My pussy tightens around his fingers and he chuckles. “Tell me what you’re thinking about that’s getting you so worked up?”
I moan, working his jeans and briefs the rest of the way down his legs, trying to shed his shirt at the same time.
“I’m thinking about you and me. I’m thinking about sex. I’m thinking about the fact that you’re going to be my husband. Mine.”
Creed slows his fingers and gently pulls back to look at me. Heat rises to my cheeks and I start to wonder if I sounded a little too possessive just now, but Creed surprises me. With a growl, he sheds his clothes, lifts my body into his arms, setting me on the corner of the bed. He rips my clothes from my body, pinching my nipples and playing with my pussy as he goes.
He drops to his knees, spreads my thighs extra wide. He presses his face between my legs and I burn with bliss. Creed covers my pussy with his mouth and tongue, leaving no inch of me untouched. I toss my head back into the sheets and slap my hand over my mouth to stifle my moans so I don’t wake Angel in his nursery next door.
Creed’s tongue flutters and dips. Sucks and fucks and I’m on the cusp of an orgasm when he slides a finger inside me and crooks the long digit
toward my upper walls. A ragged gasp tears from my chest, my hands slapping the sheets outside of my head.
“That’s it, right there, isn’t it?” he taunts, already knowing the answer. He can tell by the way I’m panting. The way I’m thrusting my hips onto his fingers and his face.
Creed pulls back and I let out a groan of frustration, watching as he strokes his cock, his eyes trained on my glistening center on display. I prop myself on my elbows, drooling at the sight of his delectable body. He strokes himself from root to tip. The head of his cock angry, the veins protruding. My stomach curls with desire, causing my clit to beat with a heartbeat of its own.
Creed climbs on the bed next to me, dragging my body along with him so I’m straddling him.
“Sit on my face.”
His words send a jolt to my tummy. He doesn’t wait for me to oblige. With his grip around the globes of my ass, he squeezes and lifts my body up over his. I rest my hands against the headboard and slowly lower myself over his face. I toss my head back on a moan at his long lick against my center in this position. It has me crying out with pleasure.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I moan, twirling my hips over his face. Grinding my clit against his tongue. Creed digs his fingers into my hips working me over him harder, fluttering his tongue over my clit faster, dipping into my channel more thoroughly. He slaps his open palm against my ass, squeezing the cheek and fucking me with his tongue.
“I’m going to—”
I groan as he works his tongue faster. I grind my hips harder and I slap my hands against the wall as my orgasm tears through my body, completely obliterating me. Waves of euphoria wrack my body and have me seeing a kaleidoscope of colors.
While I’m trying to catch my breath, he lifts me off him effortlessly and drops me onto the bed. Bliss hums beneath my skin as he lays on top of me. He runs a rough palm across my cheek and cups the nape of my neck, angling my mouth to his heart’s desire.
He kisses gently at first. Tangling his tongue with mine. Almost like he wants me to taste myself on his tongue and lips. Creed positions himself between my legs and gently runs his finger over my scar. A scar I thought was ugly, but now, I look at it and think of him and our baby.
