Out of nowhere she chokes on a laugh, catching me completely off guard as she pulls back.
“What’s funny?”
She coughs, clearing her throat. “I was just thinking… I mean, this is so…us.”
“What is?” Fuck, she’s beautiful with her blonde hair cascading around her face like a curtain, her dimpled smile on full display, and those expressive blue eyes shining bright with so much emotion. She steals my breath, every time.
“To wind up pregnant this way.” She can’t stop giggling. I’m not complaining; it’s a welcome sight over her tears.
“What way might that be?” I taunt, leaning in to nibble on her neck.
“You know what way.” She squirms, moaning under my ministrations.
I chuckle. “I just wanna hear you say it.”
“So bad,” she mutters, nipping at my jaw, playfully. “My pussy swallowed that condom like a fucking Venus flytrap.”
I roll to my back, hand on my chest, laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. Blushing, she climbs on top of me. “Know what I just realized?” She circles her ass over my cock.
“What?” I grip her at the waist, lifting my hips to offer a little encouragement as desire takes root in my groin, spreading heat throughout my entire body.
Leaning forward, she brings her lips to my ear. “No more condoms.”
With an arm hooked around her waist, I flip her around so that I’m hovering over her. “That is really good news.”
“Is it?” she asks, reaching up hastily, unfastening the buttons before pushing my shirt over my shoulders and down my arms.
With a nod, I stare into her bottomless blue eyes, losing myself in their depth as I shrug the rest of the way out of my flannel. “Our little hobby was about to get expensive.”
She quirks her brow, not catching my meaning.
“You live here now, remember?” I nudge her with my erection. “Two or three a day at seven days a week…” I touch each of my fingers to my thumb mocking calculations.
She grins up at me. “Right,” she rasps, her eyes clouded with longing as I grope her breast through the fabric of her blouse.
One by one she releases each of the little pearl buttons while I trail a hand the length of her inner thigh, beneath her skirt, and along the scrap of lace covering her heat.
“Yes,” she hisses, her head falling back, slowly rotating side to side with every light touch.
I reach around to her back, unfastening the clasp to her bra before shoving it out of my way and bringing my mouth to feast on her breasts.
She’s hypersensitive, nearly coming clean off the bed with every brush of my tongue over her pebbled nipples.
“Wyatt…” My name is a desperate plea falling from angel’s lips.
She writhes beneath me as I move lower, spreading kisses over every exposed inch of her skin, devoting extra time and attention when I reach her flat stomach.
Settling, she combs her hands into my hair, no longer tugging, but caressing, lavishing me with love and affection while I worship the body that’s nourishing our miracle.
With every measured press of my lips, my emotions climb.
“Hey there little one,” I say, as tears prick the backs of my eyes. I smooth both hands over her stomach, overcome with the depth of my feelings for a child I’ve not yet met. “It’s me…Daddy.”
Whitney chokes on an emotion filled sob, drawing my attention. She shakes her head, motioning for me to continue. “I’m o—okay.”
“You’re not yet,” I say, crawling over her to stare into her eyes, “but you will be.”
“I got one!” Prissy screams, leaning back with dramatic flair as she reels in her pole. She’s too stinking cute with her little camouflage ball cap, cut-off shorts, and rubber boots. Her acclimation to country life’s been a breeze.
“Be careful,” Wyatt urges, setting his own down on the brand-new dock he finished for us last week, coming over to investigate. “Pretty sure you got caught on another log.”
“No way,” my child argues. “It’s so strong. I bet it’s an alligator.”
“Don’t yank like it that, you’re gonna snap the line.” He stands behind her, gripping her pole and controlling her reel with his big hand covering hers.
“I know what I’m doing, Dad.”
Yep. Dad. Be still my heart.
It’s been four months since we moved in. Prissy started with the dad bit about a month ago. The first time she did it, poor Wyatt looked like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of how to respond. A simple nod from me was all it took to have him melting on the spot and accepting his new title with gusto.
Who am I to begrudge her—either of them—that relationship? The bond is already there. It’s merely a title, and one that man has more than earned—one he wears like a badge of honor.
“You two wanna stop arguing? You’re killin’ my vibe.” I rest my paperback face down on my basketball-sized belly, squinting through the setting sun to glare at the two of them.
“Hear that?” he growls. “You’re pissin’ the prego off.”
Prissy snickers, crawling out from under Wyatt’s arm, leaving him to deal with her mess while she runs over to join me at my lounger, her rubber boots clomping on the wood with every step. “How’s my sister?” she asks, resting a hand over my navel.
“Could be a brother,” Wyatt hollers, cursing up a storm at the massive driftwood he just reeled in.
“Whoops,” Prissy giggles, covering her mouth. “Think he’s really mad?”
“No way,” I say, reaching around to the back of her head to tighten her ponytail. “Put your hand here.” I slide her lower and to the right where the baby is practicing its kickboxing technique.
“Does it hurt?” she asks, her eyes widening.
“Not at all.”
She cringes. “I’m not gonna have a baby,” she announces, moving to show her jealous dog some attention when he dips his head under her arm, nudging her hand. “Cuz, I don’t want nothin’ coming outta my vagina.”
I choke on my tea, sitting up so I don’t die. “It’s not that bad.”
“Imma just take your word for it.”
“You’ll change your mind one day,” I assure her.
“Nuh-uhn.”
“Why don’t you come in and watch?” If any kid can handle witnessing a birth, it’s this one. With everything she sees and has seen at the funeral home, I’m not worried one bit.
“Watch the baby come out?”
I laugh at her excitement. “Sure,” I say, looking to Wyatt for his approval.
“Don’t see why not,” he shrugs. “She can take over when I pass out.” He winks at his daughter. “Two birthing coaches are better than one. Let’s tag-team this shit!” He holds out his hand for a very enthusiastic high-five from Priss.
“Great. Now that that’s settled,” I say, reaching for Wyatt’s hand to help me up from the chair. “Let’s get some dinner. This baby’s starving.”
Once we’ve finished eating, we go through our nightly routine of loading the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen as a family, then settle around the coffee table for a board game. After spending half an hour trying to decide, Prissy settles on The Game of Life. It’s one of her favorites, only tonight she adds an unexpected twist when she lands on the “Get Married” space.