Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
I lean forward to stroke one of his bronzed forearms, my expression gentle.
“Of course not,” I murmur. “But it’s only temporary. You’ll get back on your feet soon enough, and then it’ll be me living off of your largesse! I’ll become a lady of leisure.”
My lover’s blue eyes flare.
“That’s what I want, sweetheart. I want you to enjoy yourself, and to become fat and happy with my baby in your tummy. I want you to waddle around pregnant, standing barefoot at the stove.”
That makes me gasp as I stare into Bart’s eyes, but the handsome man is completely serious.
“What are you saying?” I ask in a trembling voice. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
My man pauses for a moment, unsure whether to continue. But then he nods.
“Christy, it’s not like we just met yesterday. We’ve been living in close quarters for years now, although of course, things took a left turn last night. But I’ve been thinking about you and me for a while now, and yes, these thoughts have always been off-limits. I’m a dirty motherfucker dreaming about his stepdaughter like this, but I want to be real and honest with you. I don’t want to beat around the bush, or lie.”
I stare at Bart, breathless from his words.
“And that means?”
“It means that I want to see where this goes,” he growls, his azure gaze intense. “I want to see if we can sustain a permanent relationship that includes marriage, babies, and everything that comes with it. I know this is overwhelming because you’re only eighteen, but it’s something that I’ve been thinking about for a while now, and I don’t want to hide my true intentions. Of course, I understand if you don’t feel the same way. You’re just a girl, honey, with your entire life ahead of you.”
I’m astonished because never in my wildest dreams did I think the man of the house would utter these words. Of course, I don’t know what I was thinking, period. I’ve been attracted to Bart for a long time now, but I had no idea that his fantasies included a house with a white picket fence and a dozen rugrats.
“Are you serious?” I breathe.
His blue eyes flare and glow with heat.
“A hundred percent,” he rasps, reaching forward to caress one of my pink nipples. “I can imagine my child drinking from your breast, and then your sweet pussy giving birth to another one of my children. And then another. And then another. Your body is a temple to be worshipped, baby, and I want to give you a lot of babies.”
The knowledge makes my heart soar with joy because I’ve always wanted to be a mother, although of course, I never let myself think of Bart as the potential father of my children. But now that he’s spoken the words, I can envision a future together – a hearth filled with laughter, love, and a dozen children in every nook and cranny of our home.
“That’s what I want too,” I confess in a soft voice, glancing shyly at the handsome alpha male from beneath my lashes. “I’d love to have your babies, Bart.”
He nods, but doesn’t touch me again.
“Are you sure, Christy? After all, I used to be married to your mother, and I can see how that would be a dealbreaker for you.”
I stop for a moment to think, biting my lip.
“No, I think it’s okay,” I say. “It’s not ideal, don’t get me wrong, but I also feel like we’re honoring Sharon by doing this. Don’t you agree? I mean, we were the two most important people in her life, so if we got together and built a life with each other, I think she’d be okay with it. I think she’d approve, to be honest.”
My stepfather nods, his blue eyes intense.
“Well, I’m not sure that Sharon would approve,” he hedges. But overall, I think she’d come to terms with the situation. But you understand that a lot of other people will see this differently, right? They’ll denounce us as incestuous, and label our relationship as dirty and wrong. Some folks are puritanical and can’t get over themselves. No matter what we do, they’ll label us perverted and heretical, and try to run us out of town. It’ll be like the Salem witch trials again.”
I nod somberly.
“I know, Bart. We had one of those uber-conservative clubs at school. I don’t remember what they were called. Maybe the “Defenders of American Values” or something like that? But yeah, I can see how folks with a stick up their butt would condemn us.”
“But are you okay with that?” Bart asks in a low voice, his expression serious. “Hartsville is a small place, and word will get around quick. You’ll probably lose some friends along the way, and be subject to a lot of gossip and whispers.”