Chapter Forty-Two
Finn
“I’ll never get enough of you,” I say to Grace as I kiss up her thigh.
She woke up crampy and nauseous and called off work. I did the same to cater to her. I made her favorite meal and gave her a massage … which led to now—my face inches from her pussy and my mouth watering. If all else fails, an orgasm always makes my girl feel better.
Before devouring her, I plant a quick kiss on her belly—one of my favorite things to do. The due date is close. The baby bag is packed and at the door. A car seat is strapped into each of our cars. We’re ready for our little one to come. At least, we think we are. Neither one of us knows what to expect. Sure, we’ve read the baby books, attended classes, and been given advice from our friends. But I don’t think any of those one hundred percent prepare you for having a baby. I told Grace we’ll learn as we go, we don’t have to be perfect, and we will make an amazing team.
“Another go at inducing labor?” Grace asks, laughing while staring down at me.
We’ve had sex—lots and lots of sex—and blame it on attempting to induce labor.
The real reason, though, is we love being intimate with each other. Holding hands, kissing, sex, whatever it is, I love it with Grace.
Her thighs shake at my first lick up her slit. I love how sensitive she is to me. Squirming underneath me, she moans my name as I softly circle her clit with my thumb and navigate my tongue in and out of her. As she gasps and when I know she’s getting close, I shove two fingers inside her, working her the way she loves to be worked. In our months of dating, I’ve learned what Grace likes … and what she looks like when she’s about to orgasm.
I quicken my pace, slamming my fingers in and out of her, and she begs for more.
My attention moves away from her thighs to her eyes when she clutches my wrist.
“I need you inside me,” she begs. “I need more.”
“Come on my tongue, and then I’ll give you this cock,” I demand, raising my mouth to suck on her clit while finger-fucking her. “And then I’ll come inside you.”
My words set her on fire, and seconds later, her back arches. I devour her, loving the way her pussy tightens against my fingers, and my cock jerks in my pants, knowing he’s next in line. Drawing back, I crawl off the bed, unbutton my pants, and slide them down my legs.
“Uh … Finn,” Grace says as I pull my shirt over my head.
I toss it across the room. “Yeah, baby?”
She points at where I just was. “I think my water just broke.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Grace
Millie Angeline Duke.
My daughter.
Our daughter.
I love that she has Finn’s last name. With my family’s expertise in law, they were able to get that done for us. Finn is her father, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
I’d asked him to take a few days to think about it before agreeing to it. It’s a big deal—an eighteen-year commitment. But Finn said he’s all in—forever.
I’m exhausted, and I’ve attempted to rest as the nurses have told me to do. The ten hours of labor was hard on me—mentally and physically—but I forgot all about that when they handed me my beautiful little girl. Six pounds and four ounces of perfection were finally mine to hold after talking to her through my skin for so long. I was terrified of motherhood, but now, I want nothing more than to be the perfect mother to my little girl.
I cried. Finn cried. Faith cried. Millie cried.
The delivery room was one giant sob-fest.
While Faith had been a good source of mental support in the room, Finn was my right-hand man. The best partner a pregnant woman could have.
He accepted my verbal abuse.
“You eat that cheeseburger in front of me, and you’ll never eat one again.”
“Tell me it’s easy to push again, and I’m pushing you out that window.”
The poor guy held my hand while I practically ripped his off while crying out in pain. But he’d never walked away, never looked at me any different.
I’m also sure whatever he saw the doctor working with down in my nether regions wasn’t a pretty sight. I’d be surprised if he wants to put his face down there again.
RIP, oral orgasms.
The baby classes had paid off. Finn was my comfort blanket while I gave birth. He knew what to say and do to keep me going. He had been my comfort blanket during my entire pregnancy really. I’m not sure if I could’ve done it without him.
Finn sits in the chair next to me, cradling Millie in his arms. As I lay my head back, my mind wanders to the day we decided to pretend. I couldn’t have known it would be the best thing I’d ever done. It was always supposed to be Finn.
He was always supposed to be my lover, the father of my child—and from the comments he keeps making, my husband. He’s brought up marriage more times than I can count, but I told him that we needed to have our baby first, and then wedding talk could start. Heat radiates through my chest at the thought of being his wife.
“She’s beautiful,” Finn says, his gaze sliding away from Millie to me. “Just like her mother.” He runs his finger along her face. “She has your eyes.”
That heat turns ice-cold. I wish I could do what he just did. I’d love to examine Millie and point out every similarity she has to Finn, but I can’t. I hate that dread crawls up my throat and ruins this happy moment. Millie won’t resemble Finn because she’s not his. It’s a tough pill to swallow and one I’ll have to digest myself. It’d kill me to ever bring it up to Finn.
Biologically, he might not be Millie’s father.
But in every other way, he is.
There’s a knock on the door, and as soon as I call, “Come in,” it flies open.
“Where is my goddaughter?” Georgia sings before holding up a gift bag. “I have presents on presents on presents to give her.”
Lola nudges her with her elbow. “I think you mean, my goddaughter.”
They’ve been arguing over who the godmother will be for weeks now. Each of them bringing me sweets to sway me in their favor.
I laugh. “How many times have I said that you’re both the godmothers?”
“Is that a thing?” Georgia asks. “Can there be two? And if there’s two, who’s number one?” She sets the bag down on the small couch in the corner. “If so, I’m number one.”
A line forms behind the girls. It feels good, having my friends here. Georgia texted an hour ago, making sure I was ready for people, and I replied that I was. I want the people I care about to meet my little one.
Cassidy waddles in and looks straight at me. “Don’t tell me any horror stories, please. Lincoln has made me watch birthing pregnancy videos, and I’m terrified.”
Finn chuckles. “Prepare yourself for war, Lincoln.”
“Hardy-har-har,” I grumble.
Georgia is the first to ask to hold Millie because she’s Georgia, and she always has to be the first in line. Nervously, I tell her to take a seat as if she were a child holding a new puppy, and I instruct Finn to carefully place her in Georgia’s arms. I give Georgia directions on how to hold her, to protect her head—nearly everything the nurses said to me. I’m going to tell anyone else who asks to hold her the same. It’s only been two days, and I know I’ll do anything to protect my little girl.