by Alice Ward
Under the surface, a panic was growing. Knowing me so well, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s silly.”
He pushed my hair back from my face. “Tell me.”
It was silly, but it was also an indication of how far apart we were from each other financially. I had made him a gift for his birthday tomorrow, but it didn’t come close to what he’d given me.
“It’s just that this…” I touched the necklace at the base of my throat, “is so expensive, so much more than I—”
He shut me up with a kiss that curled my toes and had mothers covering their children’s eyes. “You’re my gift,” he said against my lips, and I thought he meant it, but it didn’t ease the worry when I presented him with his birthday present the next day.
My pottery wheel was one of the things I loved most, and while I’d had no time to create anything on it, I managed to cast molds of the babies’ hands and feet while Langston was in surgery or at the office. I’d also framed my favorite newborn photos, the sweet squishy ones of the babies in his arms.
My worry was for nothing. He loved them, and I thought his appreciation for the gifts was sincere. If it wasn’t, I knew for sure he loved the secondary present I gave him.
“It’s time for third base,” I said and pushed him down on the couch.
I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, easing the jeans down his legs. The poor man groaned so loud when I touched him, I thought my birthday blowjob was going to end before it began.
He held on, and it was very satisfying to watch him come unglued as I stroked him with my tongue and took him into my throat. He was cursing when he came in my mouth, trying to pull me away, but I refused to go. I wanted all of him, every last drop. And I took it, beginning to really feel like a woman again.
“Best. Birthday. Ever.”
He laid on the couch like a wet noodle for the longest time after that. Yes, I was definitely feeling like a woman again.
By week five, I was a walking, talking hormone. So was he. I tried my best to make him make love to me, but he wouldn’t.
“It’s not date night yet,” he chided, enjoying watching me whimper. “Two more days.”
Then one.
Then I was getting dressed. Since I didn’t know where we were going, I’d chosen a strapless dress — also a present from Langston’s mother — that was forgiving at the waistline and fell nearly to my ankles.
“Where are we going?” I asked for the hundredth time as we walked out of my apartment, leaving Angela, Gran, and Pops on baby duty.
“Still not telling.”
When we turned onto the street of the carriage house, I knew. “Is the nursery done?”
He didn’t answer, only smiled.
It was. And it was more beautiful than I ever expected.
It was an elegant gray with pops of pastels. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Toys everywhere. A nanny suite had also been added, even though I still didn’t think I wanted to go that route.
In the backyard, the sweetest little playhouse had been built along with a swing set, slide, and sandbox. I laughed. “It will be years before the kids can play out here,” I reminded him but he only shrugged.
Inside, dinner was ready, a chef giving me a slight nod as we passed through the incredible kitchen. I groaned as I took the first bite of the perfectly grilled filet with roasted potatoes and asparagus that melted in my mouth. I was almost too full to eat the chocolate bomb, but I managed a few bites anyway.
Afterwards, he led me to the second floor, which consisted of the master suite, his office, and… “This is for you,” he said as he opened another door.
“Oh…”
I couldn’t believe it. He’d created me an art studio, bigger pottery wheel and all. Along the walls were shelves and shelves of material. An electric kiln sat proudly in the corner.
“I can’t believe it.”
He smiled and ran his hands through my hair, kissing my forehead. “Well, I thought if the kitchen, backyard, and nursery wouldn’t convince you to come live with me here, this would.”
I touched everything. It was getting dark outside, but I could still tell how wonderful it would be with all the natural daytime light. I turned from the tall window to thank him and found him down on one knee.
Oh.
My.
Goodness.
I just stared at him, my hands covering my mouth, my heart pounding in my chest.
“We’ve known each other for a short time if we went by the standards of society, but you and I both know that what we have between us exceeds standards, transcends normal. Don’t make me wait, Scarlett. Put me out of my misery and tell me that you’ll marry me. I’ll—”
“Yes.”
He blinked. I’d taken him off script. Taken him by surprise.
“You will?”
I grinned. “On one condition.”
He groaned and stood up, pulled a little black box from his pocket, causing the little girl inside me to squeal. He didn’t open it yet. He was playing with me too. “What’s the condition?”
I stepped closer to him, trailing a hand down his chest until I was cupping his growing erection through his pants. “Make love to me.”
I was in his arms in an instant, being carried down the hallway and into the master bedroom. I giggled when he tossed me on the bed and slipped my shoes off my feet.
He was already unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off as I explored the tattoo I loved so much. “You sure? I won’t hurt you?”
I scrambled up from the bed and began to work on his pants, taking him into my mouth when his erection sprang free from the constriction.
He pulled me up, and his cock made an erotic popping sound as it left my mouth. I licked my lips. His hands were rough but also strangely gentle as they pushed my dress down my body.
He stared at the Spanx. “What the hell is that?”
I blushed. “Baby blubber holder.”
He growled and began the process of freeing me from the constricting device, yanking them down my legs like they’d offended his sensibilities. They went straight to the trash.
“Hey!”
“You’re beautiful. I love everything about you. Don’t erase the reminders of what your body experienced to give us our babies.”
Yep. I was in love.
But when he went to unhook the bra, I stopped him. “I’ll leak.”
He grunted, tossing the bra to the floor. “Do you think I care?”
Without giving me time to answer, his face was between my legs, his tongue on my cleft, my clit. My legs were too wobbly to hold me up, so I sank onto the bed, and he pushed my legs apart for better access.
“I’ve missed this,” he said between licks, and I was so sensitive I thought I would scream. Then I did scream into my hand as I came, my body twisting as I tried to escape the overwhelming sensations that I’d craved for so long.
As I was still coming down from the orgasm, he climbed up my body until his lips were on mine for a soul stealing kiss that tasted like me.
“I love your lips,” he growled, his hand kneading my breast, not seeming to care that my body responded to his touch in its own unique way. He seemed fascinated by my breasts, touching and tasting as I writhed, begging for more.
He moved away, but only for a minute as he finished stripping and pulled a condom from his pocket.
“Unless you want more surprises,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
I gave him my harshest glare, which wasn’t very harsh because I was also smiling like a fool. “Put it on and let’s hope rubber roulette is kinder to us this time.”
I’d almost forgotten how sexy he looked rolling it on. But only almost. It seemed incredible that so many months had passed since he was doing this same thing in front of me. I felt blessed that fate had circled us back together, giving us a second chance to be parents and lovers.
I didn’t have time to think about anything anymore because he was on me, the
n in me, taking it slow. He was careful, watching my face as my body stretched and accepted him one glorious inch at a time. There was some discomfort but not nearly enough to make him stop.
“I love you, Scarlett,” he said against my lips. “And our children, and all the little ones to come.”
How did a person’s heart fill so full and not explode from the happiness of it all?
“I love you too. So very much.” I took his face in my hands. “Now, please, make me come.”
He grinned. “Yes, Mommy.”
And he did. Once. Twice.
“You feel so good,” he said against my lips, growling like the beast he was as he took me over and over. His breath warmed the space between us, the lust — the love — in his eyes blazing into me full force. Our joining was just on the edge of barbaric, our bodies making amazingly erotic noises as they slapped together.
When I came a third time, the earth didn’t just stop its rotation, it exploded, shattering into an infinity of pieces. He came too, and I could only hang onto him as he found his release. I pressed my face into his sweaty neck, my lips pressing to his racing pulse, feeling it begin to slow.
Still not sated, he pulled my head back and started kissing me again with a wild hunger that branded me as his. He pulled out, groaning as our bodies disconnected, and I mourned the loss.
“Marry me, Scarlett.” It was a demand. It was a plea.
I kissed him back, biting at the lips I loved so much. “Yes. I’ll marry you. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever. I don’t care.”
Tears fell from his eyes, surprising me with the intensity of his response. There was nothing like seeing a big, strong alpha man cry, and I held him, pressing my lips to his cheeks and promising to never let him go. Promising that he’d never be lonely again.
When he changed condoms and joined our bodies again, the lovemaking was slower, a gentle rocking that was less urgent but no less erotic. We whispered words of love and hope between the softly gliding lips and sweeping tongues.
Later, in his arms, he slid a ring on my finger. It wasn’t the boulder that had belonged to his grandfather. This one was more me. It was perfect.
“It’s beautiful,” I said of the square cut diamond that glimmered in the soft light of his bedroom. “You know me so well.”
We laid together like that, in the carriage house that would soon become our home. We talked about puppies and gardens and building a sunroom on the back.
When my breasts began to remind me of the time, we dressed slowly and made our way back to my little apartment. As excited as I was about the new house, I was sad to be leaving the little place that had been my safe haven for all these years.
“Mommy and Daddy are home,” I cooed to the babies and got grins and little cooing noises in return.
After saying goodbye to Angela, Gran, and Pops, I began to nurse while Langston rubbed my feet. When the babies were settled, we slept — for three entire hours, then we did it all again.
It was perfect. Exactly right for us.
It might not have been the happy ending of novels, but it was our happy ending.
Poopy diapers and all.
THE END
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Alice Ward
A Bonus Novel
BLITZED BY THE BILLIONAIRE
Alice Ward
CHAPTER ONE
I pinned a final cardboard rainbow to my “Welcome to Kindergarten” bulletin board and stepped back to admire my work. I pictured my tiny students filing into the classroom the following day. Their little smiles. The chatter. Even the ones with tears trying so hard to be brave. I hoped the cheerful board welcomed those little ones most of all.
A loud knock drew my attention from the welcoming rainbow to my classroom door. My boyfriend, Ben, strode into the room with a broad smile. As our elementary school’s physical education teacher, he was in his standard gym clothes attire — sweatpants and t-shirt. He looked sexy as hell, like he’d just rolled out of bed, and I silently cursed the fact that our relationship was “hands off” while we were working.
“Hey, Emily,” he greeted me with a kiss on the forehead. “The board looks great. Are you about to wrap things up in here? I’m running to the club before the staff meeting. Want to join me?”
In addition to teaching PE, Ben oversaw the boy’s club’s pee-wee football program. Between after school practices with the school’s sports teams and his time at the club, he didn’t have a lot of free time. But I was always happy to tag along and watch him with the kids.
“I wish I could,” I replied with a sigh, pulling my long brunette hair into a sloppy bun. “Linda and I have a meeting with the Hollis family. We each have one of their twins this year, and they both have severe food allergies.”
Ben raised an eyebrow and perched on one of the miniature desks. “Didn’t you two meet with them last week?”
I nodded and sank into my cushioned desk chair. It was the first time I’d been off my feet all day.
“They just need one last bit of reassurance that we understand what Alfie and Alana are and aren’t allowed to eat. I think they’ll ease up after school starts and they adjust to not having the kids at home all the time. I’m happy to reassure them as often as necessary, but I do wish I could go to the club with you.”
Ben glanced down at his watch and rose to his feet. “Speaking of which, I should get going if I want to get back in time for the meeting. Want to order Thai and stay at my place tonight?” he asked, a grin lifting one corner of his mouth.
The grin was contagious and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back. “Yeah, I think that’s a tradition we should keep.”
“Perfect. See you soon, baby.” He blew me a kiss and left the room. I stared at the closed classroom door and thought back to the night we’d become a couple.
Ben and I met the previous summer when we were both hired to teach at The Day School, Portland’s state-of-the-art charter school in the working class King neighborhood. We were both fresh out of college and anxious about starting our careers. We bonded over our newbie status at all of the staff development sessions, but our relationship was strictly platonic until the night before classes started.
Ben found me in my classroom that night quizzing myself with flashcards of my students’ names and faces. I remembered being terrified on my first day of kindergarten and I was determined to make the day as easy as possible for my students. Ben suggested that we have dinner, one thing led to another, and we’d been together ever since.
Ben was a walking cliché in the best possible ways. He’d been the star quarterback at his high school and went to Iowa State on a football scholarship. A torn ACL end
ed his senior season early, destroying his dreams to play in the NFL. After graduation, he returned to Portland to follow his next best dream of one day coaching his old high school team to a state championship.
Physically, Ben was exactly what you’d envision if someone uttered the words “prom king.” He was tall and broad, with sandy blond hair, clear blue eyes, and dimples that made it impossible to stay mad at him for more than a few minutes. The most irresistible thing about him was he had no idea just how cute he really was. Ben was modest, reliable, and, in my friend Melissa’s opinion, predictable to a fault. But after the life I’d lived, predictable was just what I needed.
My parents, Emma and Lee Kinkaid, were killed by a drunk driver on their way home from a Christmas party when I was just three months old. According to my Uncle Walt, it was the first time my mother left me. She hadn’t planned on joining my father at his office’s annual party, but Uncle Walt was in town for the holidays and he offered to watch me so they could enjoy some time together.
A few hours later, a police officer arrived at the house and broke the news. Uncle Walt was my only surviving relative, save my mother’s parents who were already in a retirement home and in no condition to raise an infant. Uncle Walt adopted me and added my parents’ combined names to the moniker they’d given me, making my full name Emily Catherine Grace Kinkaid. It was a mouthful, but I was proud to carry my parents’ names.
Uncle Walt was only twenty-four when he became my parent. I imagine most single men would immediately start looking for a wife after being thrust into instant, unexpected fatherhood. But not Uncle Walt. He was an incurable bachelor who, in his words, “loved women too much to settle for just one.” To his credit, I didn’t realize what a player he was when I was a child. I just thought he worked a lot. When I finally put two and two together, I kept my revelation to myself. I was old enough to realize he’d gone to great lengths to keep his private life out of our house and I had no desire to call him out on it.
Uncle Walt had been completely unprepared to raise a child, but he figured things out the best he could along the way. In so many ways, he succeeded. Although my legal father, he never referred to himself as my dad. Instead, he filled our apartments with pictures of my parents and told me every story he remembered about them. When I went to him for advice, he’d tell me not just his opinion, but what he thought they would say as well. Because of him, I knew them despite the fact that I didn’t have a single memory of their faces.
