Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
I shrug and grin at the sparkling cider. “Just in case.” Colette smiles and laughs as she replaces the bottle in the bucket. Then she spots the plate with the little box on top and moves towards it. I follow behind and wait until she’s picked it up and turns to give me a look of hope mixed with curiosity.
Gently, I take the box from her hand and open it to reveal her mother’s diamond ring. I’m saving the band as a surprise on our wedding day. “The moment I met you, I knew you were it for me. I want everyone else to know it too.” I remove the ring and set the box down before sliding the diamond on her hand. She inhales sharply when she sees the ring.
“My mother’s ring?”
I nod and smile as I cup her cheeks in my palms. “I love you, Colette. I’m going to make you my wife and the mother of my children.”
Colette beams at me and practically jumps into my arms. “You love me?”
I put my hands on her ass and boost her up farther, so her legs go around my waist. “Of course, I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too!” she shouts as she throws her arms around my neck.
“I know.” I crash my mouth over hers and she opens for me immediately. Our tongues tangle and dance, our heavy breaths mingling together and I can’t wait. I start walking and Colette pulls back and looks around.
“Aren’t we going to eat?”
My lips spread into a wolfish grin. “Oh, we’re going to eat, baby. I’m going to make a meal of your pussy, then feed you my cock, before I stuff you full of my cum.”
Colette squirms and mumbles something about me hurrying my ass up, making me throw my head back in laughter.
Several hours later, she is spread out on top of me, naked and sweaty, my half-hard cock still inside her. Our breathing is beginning to even out and I thread my fingers with those of her left hand and bring it to my mouth. I kiss the ring and stare into her deep brown eyes. “Mine.”
She nods. “Yours.”
“Tomorrow,” I say with determination. Colette’s brow rises and she looks at me incredulously.
“Pardon?”
“We’re getting married tomorrow. You’re probably already pregnant, and I don’t want to wait to make you mine.”
She looks like she’s going to argue for half a second, then she melts into me, laying her head on my chest and sighing contentedly. “Okay.”
“We can do the big wedding thing later,” I offer as I nuzzle my chin on the top of her head.
Her head moves in a tiny shake. “I don’t really have any desire to do the big wedding without my mom to share it with,” she says softly. “I just want to be your wife.”
“Good. Now”—I shift as my cock begins to stiffen once again—“let’s practice for our wedding night.”
Epilogue
Colette
“Hey, baby.” Tyson comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my rounded belly. The baby kicks right where his palms rest as he buries his face in my neck, pressing his lips against my fluttering pulse. “Can we hold off on dinner for a little while? Or will our little shoe get pissed because he’s starving?”
Tyson has been tossing around size analogies ever since the doctor used a sweet pea to describe how big the baby was at our first visit six months ago. The first thing he did when we got home was search the internet to find a chart for the rest of the pregnancy. When he found one geared towards men with things like a golf ball and a pint of beer on it, he became obsessed—like he is with everything related to my pregnancy. Every week, he checks to see how big the baby is and tosses that reference into conversation as often as he can.
Everyone in both of our offices thinks it’s hilarious because he’s such a proud and overprotective papa already. But they’re not the ones who have to deal with him trying to wrap them in bubble wrap every day. I am—and I’ll never admit it to Tyson, because I like to give him a hard time about it, but his uber-vigilance just makes me love him even more. I did happily marry a caveman, after all.
“I did more than a little taste testing while I was cooking”—I pat my belly above his hands—“so I should be good for another half-hour, maybe.”
Waiting thirty minutes for dinner shouldn’t be a struggle, but our son has been wreaking havoc with my appetite, making me hungry all of the time. I also crave the strangest things, like the toast I had last night with vanilla ice cream on top of it.
Tyson steps away, tugging on my hand to lead me out of the kitchen. “That’ll be just enough time for what I have in mind.”