Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
We’ve got four kids now. Michaela is 12, Benjamin is 10, and the twins, Janet and Julia—named after our moms—are 6. Only Julia has the least bit of interest in music, but Jess doesn’t take it too seriously. No pressure. No craziness. Just a pink keytar and a rainbow-colored xylophone for now.
We’re happy. Fucking happy. And though life is busy and chaotic, it’s good. The self-storage business made us a fucking bundle, and so Ben was able to retire which made me and Jess happy.
Much to nobody’s surprise, I’ve found being a stay-at-home dad suits me just fucking fine, while Jess has been getting a new music therapy program off the ground for underprivileged kids. We have everything we could ever want and more.
Sam and his husband, Giacomo, are out watching the kids, and Lagerfeld sits on his lap. Old and arthritic, but still the best-dressed dog in the state. They’re happy, too. Happy and thriving. Taking the fashion world by storm.
I run my hand down her thigh. Her body has changed after three pregnancies—and I like her new curves, her new softness. But we’re done with kids; four is plenty, and I nearly lost her after the twins. As soon as she was in recovery, safe and sound, I went for the snip. I’ll always want to knock her up when I come inside her, always, but I’m not risking her health ever again.
She’s in a little plaid dress with black leggings. Her hair is long and loose. Around her neck she still wears the solitaire I put on her all those years ago. I’ve never unlocked the lock. And never will. “Daddy’s hungry, baby girl.”
I watch her smile in the reflection of the window. “Oh you.”
I turn her around in my arms, letting her feel my hardness against my thigh. “It’s your fucking fault.”
She looks up at me with those beautiful eyes. “Sorry, not sorry.”
Taking her hand, I lead her around the corner, to the butler’s pantry where I know we won’t be seen. I pull down her leggings, revealing her beautiful pussy, slick and wet already. I kiss her deeply, hoisting her up on the countertop. She paws at my belt, and unzips my fly, like she does damn near every single day of our married life.
And just like that, I’m pressing inside her, groaning into the kiss as her walls part and her pussy clenches, to welcome Daddy home.