Clean Sweep

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Clean Sweep Page 7

by Evie Mitchell

"Okay boys," I yelled shoving them through the door at my mom. "Have fun!"

  "Erik, you don't want to come in for a –"

  "No time!" I yelled, frantic. "Gotta go, love you Ma!"

  I heard my dad laughing from inside as Ma stood in the doorway, a frown in place as she watched me practically sprint for my car.

  Call me a terrible parent, but I'd lied to my kids. And I felt zero shame.

  Momma wasn't still on an airplane. Momma's plane had already landed and she was in a cab on her way home right now.

  And she had been sexting Daddy for over three days. The woman was about to be punished.

  I, barely, managed to stay within the speed limit as I drove home, managing to pull into the driveway just as the cab pulled up to the curb.

  I parked, throwing open the door and slamming it shut, clicking the lock as I headed for my woman.

  She stepped from the cab, her handbag over one shoulder, looking daisy fresh and entirely fuckable in a beautiful summer dress that hugged every curve.

  "Hey stranger," she called, a smile lighting her face.

  God, she's stunning.

  I thought it every time I saw her. Thought it every time she returned from her trips. I'd thought it the day she'd walked down the aisle to me, flowers in her hair, that gorgeous smile on her lips.

  I stalked to her, pulled her close, my lips meeting hers in a hungry kiss.

  "Damn honeymooners," the driver muttered, getting out and unloading Laura's bags.

  I ignored him, focusing on my wife.

  It'd been three years since Laura had entered my mess of a house and set everything to right. She'd made this house a home, loved on my boys, loved on me.

  She still had her career, her show winning an Emmy last year. Her social media numbers were through the roof and only increasing, endorsement deals coming her way every day. We made it work because it was worth it. Every single moment we had together made all the stress and juggling and travel worth it.

  "Missed you," she murmured against my lips.

  "Missed you more," I replied.

  We backed up just a little, Laura still in my arms but trying to peer around me.

  "Where are my boys?" She asked, frowning.

  "Grandmas."

  Laura looked up at me, a sexy grin pulling at her lips. "Oh really?"

  "Mm," I bent to kiss her again but was interrupted by the driver.

  "Sorry," he muttered. "You need anything else?"

  "No, thanks."

  We waved him off then I picked up her bags and followed her into the house.

  "Erik," she said with a delighted laugh. "You didn't."

  I dropped the bags in the entry, closing the door behind me and coming to wrap arms around her middle, resting my head on her shoulder. "It's the one you wanted, right?"

  She looked at me, heart in her eyes. "Yeah, and it's perfect."

  I'd long ago learned that the way to Laura's heart wasn't through flowers or chocolate – though she liked those as well. Nope, the best gift was a new cleaning instrument.

  This time I'd gone big. To be fair, it was the longest she'd been away – three weeks in total. I'd missed her, the boys had missed her, our house missed her.

  Don't tell her, but I'd had a cleaning company come in yesterday. She may be the Queen of Clean, but I was certainly still the Master of Mess. And the last thing I'd wanted today was something to distract her.

  She pulled away, running hands over the industrial grade carpet cleaner. "It's gorgeous," she murmured, lifting the hose. "Ooh, light weight and ergonomic."

  Honestly. My wife was the only woman I knew who would want a vacuum more than diamonds. Seriously, the woman had a Pinterest dream board filled with what she called, 'cleaning porn'.

  That's my wife.

  "You can admire it later," I swung her up and over my shoulder, and head for the stairs.

  She squealed, her legs kicking in my fireman hold. "Erik! Put me down! You'll do your back!"

  I ignored her, zeroing in on the bedroom.

  Three weeks of no sex. Three weeks of not seeing her, smelling her, tasting her.

  Too fucking long.

  I deposited her on the bed, covering her with my body, my lips finding hers.

  We came together, a desperate, dirty mess of grasping limbs, gasping breath and glorious release.

  After, we lay together, side-by-side on the bed. Both of us panting as we came down off a fucking incredible high.

  "Never doing three weeks again," Laura muttered, her eyes closed.

  "Thank fudge for that."

  She chuckled; eyes still closed. "I brought you a present."

  I perked up, finding energy I thought she'd drained. "Present?"

  She chuckled, rolling to her side. "It's in my purse."

  I went downstairs, finding her discarded purse and carrying it back to the room. When she said purse, she really meant giant-fucking-handbag. Honestly, it was like Mary Poppins had handed over her magic tricks. We'd once blown two tires and spent over four hours on the side of the road waiting for AAA. The woman had produced food, clean wipes and a miraculous amount of entertainment for our sons from the depths of that thing.

  I handed it over. "Is it sexy?" I asked, hopefully.

  "Not quite," she tugged a small wrapped gift free, handing it over.

  I shook it, listening. "It doesn't jingle. Or bark."

  "Nope," she said, smiling.

  "Hmm, so it's not a pony?"

  "Sadly, no."

  "Damn," I ran a finger along the edge of the wrapping paper, ripping it clean through. She watched, biting her lip as I pulled the cloth free. I shook it out, blinking as I registered the tiny onesie. A onesie that read; My Daddy owns Thor's Shipbuilding.

  I looked from the onesie, down to Laura, back to the onesie then back to Laura.

  "Queenie, does this mean…?"

  She nodded, a grin bursting across her face. "Turns out I didn't have the stomach flu while in New York."

  I fisted the material, dropping to pull her to me. "Are you okay? How do you feel? Shit, do we need to schedule a doctor? How far along are you?"

  She laughed, holding me close.

  "Erik, it's gonna be fine. We're only about eight weeks along. I've scheduled a doctor's appointment for tomorrow. I've had a little nausea in the mornings but nothing crazy."

  I bent, pressing a kiss to her mouth. "Queenie, I don't know what to say."

  "Are you happy?"

  "Fucking ecstatic," I pressed another kiss to her mouth, then another. Somehow more turned on by the knowledge I'd planted a baby in her. The blood of my ancestors sung through my veins demanding I celebrate by branding this woman.

  She. Is. Mine.

  This time I paid closer attention to her body, noticing subtle changes. Her breasts were more sensitive. Her body more responsive.

  I rolled her so she could ride me, watching her breasts bounce, her body move as she rode us to victorious release.

  My Laura, my full-bodied, gloriously talented, wonderfully intelligent, amazing Laura was pregnant.

  We both came again, me bellowing her name, Laura on a broken scream. She fell beside me, panting and I couldn't stop myself from leaning down and pressing a kiss to her stomach.

  She laughed, swatting at my head.

  "Do you think it's a girl or a boy?" I asked, grazing fingers across her stomach.

  "I don't mind."

  "The boys will be happy."

  "Don't I know it. Do you think they'll let up on the puppy idea?"

  "Not a chance."

  We both laughed.

  Laura yawned, rubbing one eye. "The only other downside is the fatigue."

  "Stay here, have a nap. There's nothing you need to do. I'll deal with your luggage."

  I sailed through the house work, unpacking her stuff, doing the laundry, deciding to throw on a crockpot for dinner that night.

  I went back up to the bedroom with a sandwich and a tall glass of water. I'd spent th
e last hour googling what pregnant women could and couldn't eat, and had already placed an order for home delivery.

  Gotta nail this husband of a pregnant wife role.

  Laura was still passed out on the bed, gently snoring.

  I took a moment just admiring this magnificent woman before I placed the plate and glass quietly on the bedside table.

  Then I bent, pressing a soft kiss to her belly murmuring, "welcome to the family, little Viking."

  ***

  Thank you so much for reading CLEAN SWEEP!

  I hope you fell in love with Erik and Laura. Next up is Rune's story. Be sure to follow my Facebook page or check out my website for dates on when his book is coming in May 2020.

  In the meantime, why not read the book that started it all – Thunder Thighs, featuring Gunnar and Ella, is available now. Turn the page for a sneak peek.

  Thunder Thighs

  Chapter One

  Gunnar

  I stepped through the door of the first bar I'd found in this pokey seaside town, thunder crackling behind me. A surprisingly classy sign identified it as the Bronze Horseman, the words hung above the door in a flourish of steel and light. But it'd been the overpowering smell of meat that drew me inside. The scent of smoked meat was entirely too tempting when my damn stomach was already eating itself.

  The heavy wood door slapped closed behind me, shutting out the sounds of the approaching storm. I paused, taking in the surrounds. The bar was busy but not crushed. A glance showed locals and tourists filled the booths and tables, chatting quietly or listening to the band on the far stage.

  I'd docked late, babying my ship to the closest port. A storm had come on fast and the big waves had fucked with the engine. It'd shit itself just as I'd docked. An hour of playing with it had revealed a blown gasket. I'd have to seek parts in the morning.

  I'd rinsed off the grease and grit and gone in search of food. It was after ten, I'd assumed my chances in a small town like Capricorn Cove wouldn't be good – but it was tourist season and this sleepy little town looked to be hopping.

  Maybe my luck had turned.

  I made my way to the bar, noting the tasteful décor. Rich wood, leather, and bronze all offset my navy blue and hunter green highlights. Place had had some money pumped into it.

  I slid onto a stool, snatching a menu from the stack closest. The menu informed me that they served food till twelve. Perfect.

  "What can I get you, Viking?"

  The words were delivered in the huskiest, sexiest voice I'd ever heard. My cock immediately hardened and I hadn't even seen the face that had delivered that sucker punch.

  I looked up. Thick pouty lips, long lashes ringing satin brown eyes, soft, full cheeks, and big cascading brunette curls. My dick, already impossibly hard, pressed insistently against my fly.

  Mine.

  My gaze dropped, taking in the overly generous cleavage playing peek-a-boo with the v of her shirt.

  Fuck.

  She tilted her head, nodding at the menu. "See anything you like?"

  "You." The word slipped free before I could think.

  She laughed, sending that mass of hair shimmering. "I'm not normally on the menu." She leaned forward, her shirt shifting down, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of her lacy bra. "But for you? I may make an exception," she winked and I felt that deep in my gut.

  Who'd have thought I'd be thanking the sea gods for a busted engine?

  "I'm Ella Bronze." She absently brushed a thick chunk of hair back. "And you are?"

  "Gunnar Larsson."

  Her cheeks pinkened. "Oh, I was right. You really are a Viking."

  I grunted, shifting on my seat. "What do you recommend?" I asked, trying to distract my cock. At this rate I'd be coming from one fucking smile.

  She leaned back over the bar, her tits pressing against the wood as she reached out, tapping one of the menu items. "Get the fully loaded burger. It's my favorite," she slid off the bar, turning her back to me and bending over to pull a bottle from the back fridge.

  Her ass was fucking perfection. Big, curvy, framed by thick thighs that I wanted clasped around my head while I licked her sweet cunt until she creamed.

  I am a sick fuck.

  "Here," she popped the cap sliding the beer across the bar. "On the house."

  I took a sip, eyes on her.

  "Good?" She asked.

  "Fucking perfect," I growled.

  A wickedly seductive smile decorated her perfect lips. We both knew I hadn't been talking about the beer.

  A man down the far end called her name, interrupting our moment.

  "Be right back," she promised.

  I watched her sashay away, taking another long drag of the cool beer. If I played my cards right, I'd be leaving here with more than one hunger satisfied.

  Don't you dare fuck this up.

  I lifted the beer again, drinking deep.

  Thunder Thighs is available in Kindle Unlimited now!

  Books by Evie Mitchell

  Capricorn Cove Series

  Thunder Thighs

  Double the D

  Muffin Top

  The Mrs. Clause

  New Year Knew You

  Short and Sweet Series

  Just Joshing

  Thor's Shipbuilding Series

  Clean Sweep

 

 

 


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