Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Pulling back a fraction, Jesse circles my nose with his. ‘Someone wants access,’ he quips, nodding to John-Boy wrestling with the black material of my dress. ‘Greedy little sod.’
‘Someone needs to get used to the fact that Mummy’s boobs aren’t at his disposal.’ I take John-Boy’s hands and push them away, making him whine and start slapping my chest in protest.
‘I know, mate,’ Jesse sighs, reaching for his chubby cheek and pinching lightly. ‘She’s a tease, right?’
I laugh, repositioning John-Boy on my lap, away from me. He’s having none of it, fighting to turn. I moan. This weaning business is exhausting, but with me now setting up my own interior design firm, it’s essential. Plus, he’s way too big now to be hanging off my boob. ‘Mummy will get you a bottle.’
‘Booby, booby, booby!’
Jesse falls apart, chuckling uncontrollably next to me while I fight off our relentless toddler. ‘Just let him have what he wants.’ Jesse places his hand on John-Boy’s head, rubbing lovingly.
I refuse to give in, and part of me is wondering if my conniving husband has a method to his madness, because he usually does. And this time, I suspect he’s cottoned onto the fact that with his son stuck to my breast, there’s no way I can go back to work full-time. Well, he can think again. He sulked for weeks when I told him my plan for my new business. Even laid a few of his fucks on me. They didn’t make a difference. I held my own, and he finally relented. He’s learning. ‘Jesse,’ I moan, looking for the back-up I need. Jesus, he’ll still be attached to my breast when I’m fifty, and I plan on having surgery way before then. Like as soon as these balloons shrink back down to their usual form, which basically means they’ll be spaniel’s ears again.
‘I’m sorry.’ My wayward husband snorts and gathers himself.
‘Why are you finding this so funny, anyway?’ I grumble, handing John-Boy over to Jesse. ‘I thought you wanted them back for yourself?’
He stands John-Boy on his knees and smiles fondly at the little bugger. ‘But his needs are greater than mine, aren’t they, buddy?’
I’m stunned. Never in a million years did I ever expect those words to fall from my husband’s mouth. ‘You’ve changed,’ I mutter, feeling absolutely slighted as he distracts John-Boy by blowing raspberries on his belly. The shriek of laughter is ear-piercing and heart-swelling all at once, John-Boy’s hands yanking at Jesse’s dirty blond waves. ‘If you’re feeling that blasé about my boobs, you won’t mind if I get them inflated to their former glory.’ I realise I’ve just poked the bear with a huge fucking stick. But still . . . what the hell, with all this casual approach to my assets? Or his assets, more to the point.
Jesse’s playful motions still, his face smothered by John-Boy’s round tummy. I smile to myself, waiting for the thorough dressing-down I’m about to get. Slowly, his face turns towards mine, his green eyes narrow, the cogs of his mind smoking they’re spinning so fast. ‘Take that back right now.’
I pout, all innocent, and shake my head. I’m in the mood for a Retribution Fuck. ‘I’m getting a boob job.’
‘Over my dead body, lady.’
I sigh, rising to my feet. ‘Get a grip, Ward. I’ve had three kids ravish these boobs, on top of you. They’re knackered.’ I turn and wander into the house, Jesse hot on my heels with John-Boy thrown under his arm, laughing. Daddy isn’t laughing, though.
‘Ava!’
‘Mama!’
I get to the fridge and pull out some milk for John-Boy, turning with a coy smile on my face as I shake it up. ‘So whose boobies are they?’
‘Mine,’ Jesse growls, nostrils flaring and all. ‘I only loaned them.’
‘Mine!’ John-Boy sings, making grabby hands for his milk. My grin stretches my face as I hand John-Boy his milk, Jesse’s displeased eyes following me all the way. He shoves it straight in his mouth and pipes down.
‘I believe they are actually mine,’ I declare haughtily, sashaying out of the kitchen, knowing exactly what I’m damn well doing. These boys, I think, heading to answer a knock at the front door.
The whole gang marches into the house. Drew and Raya head straight for the lounge to lay a sleeping Imogen on the couch, while Georgia dances off upstairs to find Maddie. Sam and Kate have a verbal spar on the way to the kitchen over whose turn it is to change Betty’s nappy, and Mum and Dad, followed closely behind by Jesse’s parents, head straight for the kitchen to take the reins.
I follow the troop, meeting Jacob at the entrance to the kitchen. ‘Look at the state of you.’ I sigh, pointing to the grass stains on his knees as he spins his tennis racket in his grasp.