by Tillie Cole
Molly pushed out her tongue and I slapped her tight ass. “How is it that even after living in the States for over twenty years, that accent of yours is still as thick as ever?”
“Says you! There’s no shaking that southern drawl out of you, is there?”
Oh, she was just asking for trouble.
Gripping her thighs, I pulled her to straddle my waist, making her moan as I instantly ground my cock against her core, my hands locked on her cheeks, and I hushed out, “I should take you to the old cabin and fuck the living shit outta you for old time’s sake. There’s something in the Bama water that makes me want to own every fuckin’ part of you, to fill every hole.”
“Well, I think the new owners might have something to say about that,” she muttered, trying to restrain herself from moaning out loud.
“I couldn’t give a shit about the new owners!” I said curtly, and my eyes closed when she began rocking back and forth against my dick.
“I’ll take you right here, Mol. Don’t think I won’t,” I threatened, this time without humor, as I dragged my teeth along my bottom lip, my hands dropping from Mol’s face to squeeze and nip at her breasts.
“It’s good that you still want me after all these years. Four kids aren’t exactly flattering on a woman’s body.”
I laid kisses along the side of her neck, licking and biting as I went. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You’re so damn hot it’s unreal. Christ, I want you more now than ever.”
“Yeah, again, four kids kind of shows that! You’re insatiable, always have been.”
My eyebrows danced. “Wanna try for number five?”
I was deadly serious.
“Not a bloody chance!”
My break of laughter relaxed her. I knew she loved having kids, adored being a momma, but she kept telling me that three boys under the age of seven and a pubescent teenage girl was quite enough to deal with alongside being a full-time professor.
“Just so you know, though, I’m ready when you are. I want as many children as we can produce,” I said meaningfully. I loved having a huge family and would pop one out a year if I had my way. I loved being a daddy. It was the best damn thing in the world.
Those caramel eyes narrowed in jest. “You’re trying for your own football team, aren’t you?”
“Yep, and that’s a hell of a lotta kids. We need a strong offense, defense, oh, and the special teams of course…” Mol giggled and shut me up by smashing her lips against mine.
“Eww! That’s gross!” A high-pitched shriek stilled us both and we rolled our heads to the side, taking in the face of our disgusted, shocked daughter glaring at our compromising position.
If that Asher kid was back, I was gonna castrate the fucker.
Immediately straightening her hair, Molly went to move off my lap, but I held on tightly to her waist, whispering in her ear, “Do not move unless you want to scar our girl for life.” I knew the moment she felt it, my hardness, and she couldn’t help but blush as she kept still, hiding my… umm… awkward situation.
“What do you need, honey?” Molly asked, feigning normalcy.
Taylor shook her head in horror, her attitude still in place from before. “I’ve been calling for you both, but you never heard me. Now I can see why!” Molly glanced down at me and we had to force ourselves not to laugh at our daughters reprimand.
“Whatever. Look, you’re the main feature on the nightly news, I thought you’d wanna know. It’s about Daddy taking the QB coaching job at the Tide. And you too, Momma, ’bout you becoming a professor at UA, and that you’ve both taken positions at the same school. Said they’re gonna tell the story of your life or something.”
Molly turned to me and raised her eyebrows. “You know about this?”
I didn’t have a clue and shook my head in bewilderment.
“We’ll be there soon, princess. You go on back inside.” Taylor turned and ran back inside without looking back.
Molly immediately jumped off my lap and ran her hand across her forehead. “I wonder what they’ll be saying?”
Even after all this time, she hated being the center of attention.
I stood, fixing my jeans, and held out my hand for her to take. “Let’s go see, eh?” Clasping her hand in mine, we followed the path to the house and straight into the family room. Our four kids were lined up on the huge black leather sectional, their eyes glued to the screen. And Mol froze on the spot, a loving smile ghosting her lips.
When I turned to the TV, a montage of us was playing to the music “Hall of Fame” by The Script. It was all there, a reel of our lives: the kisses before the Tide games when we were at college… the two of us holding hands as we walked around campus… the kisses at the SEC Championship… Mol’s dramatic return at the National Championship… the Tide’s homecoming parade where I’d refused to let go of her hand… the NFL draft where I’d been first pick and proposed to my girl… our graduation day, hugging and laughing in our gowns… the paparazzi picture from the airport as we left for Seattle, all of our friends in the background, waving us off… my first game for the Seahawks and Molly sitting in the stands, cheering me on… shots of Mol over the years, pregnant with each of our four children… the many Superbowl wins and finally, me, a few months ago at the Centurylink Stadium, as they retired my jersey, surrounded by my wife and our four children. The montage ended with a simple script, the text reading:
“Welcome home, Romeo and Molly Prince.
Forever Roll Tide!”
The presenters went on to discuss the game plan for the Tide’s upcoming season and when I looked to our children—who were silently staring up at us—I realized Mol was crying. I was pretty choked up too.
“Momma, Daddy, you looked so young in those pictures,” Isaac, our eldest boy, said quietly. With his curly brown hair and glasses, he was the only one of the four who was just like Mol, with an IQ to match… a cute little geek through and through.
“We were young, little man,” I murmured, still staring at the commentators on the screen, but not listening to a word they had to say, my hand gripping almost painfully onto Mol’s. “It seems like so long ago yet weirdly, just like yesterday.”
“They called you Bama’s own Romeo and Juliet,” Taylor said softly, her mood forgotten. “At the beginning, they said your story was famous around here.”
Laughing, Molly nodded her head. “That’s what the press began to call us. Because of all the trouble we had in being together—publicly, unfortunately.”
“With Daddy’s parents?” she asked tentatively, and that old stab to the chest ripped through me in an instant.
“Yeah, honey,” Mol replied as she slid her arm around my back, rubbing it up and down in soothing motions. I hated any reminder of my parents and the years of shit I suffered at their hands… especially the miscarriage. I never saw them again after the meeting in my daddy’s study that day. And they were both long gone now. My Momma drank herself into an early grave only two years after she left Bama and my daddy suffered a heart attack ten years ago while incarcerated. We’d decided long ago to always be honest with our children—well, as honest as their ages would allow. Our troubles had been well documented and we didn’t want them to hear any of our past from anyone but us.
“Go, Daddy!” Eli and Archie suddenly shouted from the sofa, completely ignoring our conversation, both jumping up and down excitedly, pulling our attention back to them. Our youngest boys ran to the front of the large TV, clapping and screaming as shot after shot of me playing football rolled: sprinting, passing, scoring touchdowns. We all burst out laughing when Eli, the youngest, ran full out at Archie, tackling him to the floor, screaming, “Boom!” and patting his chest, holding it to the sky, my—now famous—touchdown celebration.
Breaking from Mol’s hand and running at Eli playfully, I lifted him above my head, tackling him to the ground. Squealing and laughing, Eli wriggled on the floor as I tickled him and Archie then jumped on my back, wrapping his tiny arms around
my neck. As I glanced up at the other two on the couch, Isaac threw down his iPad, piling on too. Even Taylor, who at first rolled her eyes at us, finally succumbed to temptation and, with a squeal, ran and jumped on top.
“Let me up, you monsters!” I shouted dramatically as I tried to throw them of my back.
“Never!”
“We got you pinned, Daddy!”
“We brought down the Bullet!”
We were a mass of arms and legs, giggles and screams. And then I looked up at Mol watching, laughing at us all, and then it went quiet as five sets of eyes zeroed in on her, and she quickly lost her smile.
Backing away with her palms held up, Molly warned, “Oh, no. Don’t you even think about it, I don’t have time…”
My eyebrows danced as I said, “Kids, Momma is getting away. Defense, are you with me? One, two, three, break…”
Yells of agreement echoed around the large room as the five of us launched to a chase. With a scream, Mol turned and ran toward the kitchen, beelining for the huge backyard. She’d made it onto the first patch of grass when I hit her from behind, protecting her from being hurt with my body as we tumbled to the ground, our four crazy children piling on top.
“Do you give?” I shouted as we all tickled her into submission, her body jumping and jerking on the soft grass.
“I give, I give!” She choked on hysterical laughter, unable to stand the tickles to her ribs—it was her weak spot.
“Kids, go get a pigskin. Me and Momma need to get everything ready for the party,” I ordered and, still hyper, all four of our beautiful kids ran to the game shed and out of our sight. Taylor glanced back at me and threw me a small, apologetic smile—we were good again.
Looking down at my hot and flustered wife, I pinned her arms above her head and straddled her hips. “Mmm… I’m kinda liking this position I got you in.”
Molly bucked her hips, trying in vain to throw me off, pursing her soft lips.
Shaking my head disapprovingly, I whispered, “You want it rough, baby?”
“Romeo!” she screamed again, and I cut her off by slamming my lips against hers, my tongue immediately plunging into her hot mouth. Groaning against the assault, Mol let out a reluctant whimper, and I pulled back, teasingly licking the edge of her cupid’s bow.
“Hey, Mol,” I said with a smile.
Feeling her racing heart against my chest, she answered, “Hey, you.”
“You gonna give up that lucky sweet kiss?”
Mol couldn’t contain her giggle at the use of our old pre-game ritual. “If that’s what you want.”
My face broke out in the biggest fucking smile, and I replied, “Oh, it most definitely fuckin’ is!” Releasing Molly’s trapped arms, I cupped her cheek, moving in for the softest of kisses.
But all good things never last, or should I say they get cut short by a loud-mouthed, friggin’ Texan. “Hot damn, guys! Get a fuckin’ room!”
Sighing against Molly’s lips, I withdrew my head a fraction. “Looks like our friends are here early,” I announced with mock-disappointment. A pair of black cowboy boots landed next to our heads, and Cass looked down at the two of us, grinding her hips and biting her lip. “Still fuckin’ like rabbits, I see! ‘Yeah, Rome, yeahhhhh!!!’“
“Hey, Cass,” Molly said, slumping back in frustration, ignoring Cass’s usual inappropriate jokes. I began getting to my feet, smirking at Cass and hoisting Mol off the floor as I did so.
“Hey, Molls! I’ve missed you, honey!” Cass screamed, holding out her hands and pulling Molly to her huge chest, the impact robbing her of her breath.
A hand slapped on my back, and when I turned around, Jimmy-Don was holding out his arms. “Bullet, get the hell here, boy!”
I couldn’t help but laugh as he jerked me in for a full-body hug, only withdrawing to say, “Everyone’s here, guys. The adults are already inside drinking beer.”
“Fuck, Yeah! We’re gonna get wasted!” Cass hollered and, eying me with affection, proceeded to bear hug me too.
“Where are all the kids?” I heard Molly ask, waving to Lexi, Austin, Ally, and her husband inside the house. Ally’s husband. Shit. I still struggled with who that was.
“Playing ball behind the trees. They’re all having a blast, don’t worry!” Cass said and, with a wink and a slap on my ass, walked ahead to take Jimmy-Don’s proffered arm and set off toward the house.
I walked over to my wife, hooking an arm around her neck, and laid a soft kiss on her head, whispering, “God, I fuckin’ love you, baby. We’ll be finishing what we started later.”
“I fucking love you too. And I can’t bloody wait,” Mol whispered back, squeezing both of her arms around my stomach, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at that proper English accent cussing.
She was so fucking cute.
Laughter from all our best friends spilled out from inside of our house, echoes of our children’s laughter carried on the summer breeze, and I held on tight to the most perfect gal in the world.
All was how it should be, how it was meant to be. We had happiness, we had a family, we always had each other, and as I tucked my amazing wife under the protection of my arm, I felt like the luckiest bastard in the world.
Molly Juliet Prince is, and always will be, my home.
~~The End~~
Bonus Chapter
Molly
Aged Twenty-Six
Seattle, Washington
“Molly… Molly… Wake up for me, darling… Come on now…”
I was floating weightlessly in some transient dream, but a distant voice had me slamming back to my body with a jolt, and my eyes rolled open to fix on a blurry white ceiling.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Prince.” A blond woman wearing peach scrubs was above me, coaxing me back to consciousness. I glanced around the room with heavy eyes and noted we were alone.
Where’s Romeo?
“What…?” I tried to clear my dry throat. “W-where am I?”
“Shh… drink first.” A blue beaker with a long straw met my lips. I took the offered drink and after a huge gulp of water, the liquid moistening my dry throat, I tried next to clear the thick fog from my mind.
No!
Stiffening, my hand flew to my stomach and I winced in pain. I felt like I’d been sawed wide open. Fear hit me in the chest. Not again… This can not be happening again…
The nurse’s knowing blue eyes met mine, and rubbing a hand on my arm, she said, “We had to give you an emergency caesarean, due to your preeclampsia. The baby was in distress and your blood pressure was getting to a dangerous level.”
Flashes of memory came back to me. Me on bed rest for the last three months, then hazy, scattered recounts of Romeo carrying me into the hospital in his arms, frantic, terrified, desperate even, and Ally… Ally drove us here to the hospital? That’s right. Ally was staying with us here in Seattle. She’d secured a co-curating commission at the Burke Museum on The University of Washington’s campus not too long ago and was in our spare room until she left again for her regular position at the Smithsonian in Washington D.C.
I forced my groggy mind to refocus… The baby… Our baby!
I opened my mouth, about to speak in guttering panic, when the nurse smiled down at me. “It was a successful delivery, Molly. Your baby is fine, absolutely beautiful.” She lowered down farther to whisper, “And eager to meet Mommy.”
A feeling of nervous excitement burst in my chest, but a hint of fear was evident too. My emotions were off the chart, and the nurse squeezed my hand in support.
My God… I was a mammy.
Reaching out, I gripped onto the nurse’s wrist as she began to walk away. “I want to see my baby, please. Wait!” I jerked slightly forward. “What did we have?” My eyes scoured around every inch of the room. “And where’s my husband? Where’s my baby?”
“They’re both just outside.” Her kind face broke into a huge smile. “Your husband is one pushy man, Mrs. Prince. He’s been relentless in his questions
after your well-being while we brought you around from the procedure. We had no choice but to put you under general anesthesia. Things were getting too risky to give you an epidural. Your husband hasn’t let go of your little one since, refusing to move from the family room next door until you were conscious again. He’s causing quite a stir here in the hospital. The heartthrob Seahawks QB with a newborn cradled in his arms, pining for his wife… Whew! That man is reducing the nurses to teenagers out there, even in his blue scrubs!”
My heart melted. Knowing my Rome, he’d be scared to death. My miscarriage six years ago had almost killed him. I imagine holding our baby in his arms while he sat there all alone was scaring him shitless. He’d been so overprotective over the past few months, terrified of the risks of my condition.
It was too much like déjà vu.
“Please let him in. I need to see him… need to see them both,” I instructed hurriedly, my voice hoarse with emotion. The nurse nodded, understanding my anxiousness, and left the room. My palms grew clammy and my breathing came fast.
I was a mommy. It had actually happened… finally. It had been one hell of a bad pregnancy, and as I sat here in this strange bed, I felt robbed of the full birthing experience. But we had a child. Words couldn’t express the joy that came with that knowledge. I was more than lucky.
The door to the small room suddenly burst open and Romeo hurried in wearing blue scrubs, I assumed still left on from the OR, and I agreed with the nurses; he was a heartthrob, but then again, he was always beautiful to me.
My eyes immediately fixed on the tiny bundle in his arms, then back to my husband. His eyes were tired, his dirty-blond hair sticking out in clumps from where he’d been running his hand through, no doubt in stress, and his cheeks were red raw.
He’d been crying.
As soon as our eyes locked, relief flooded Rome’s face and he released a long, pained breath. “Molly!” he groaned and, glancing quickly at our baby in his arms, carefully walked towards me and gripped my outstretched hand, kissing the palm, the back, and each finger before placing it on his cheek, pressing it against his skin.
