“I knew you were a mean son of a bitch that first day I met you, but when your eyes landed on her they’d go soft.”
My throat feels tight. “Thank you,” I tell him. After having my own little girl, I can see how hard it would be to give that trust to another man. He gave that to me. He gave me her. Not that Honor could really be given to me. We all know that woman owns every part of me. I’d follow her anywhere.
“Emma. Come on. Grandma is making cookies,” Henry yells out to her.
Emma squeals with delight. I watch as Honor leans down and kisses her before Emma takes off on a dead run for us. She throws herself at her grandpa, who catches her, her dark wavy hair like her mama’s bouncing all around her. “With chocolate chips?” she asks him.
“Of course,” he tells her, making her squeal again like she never gets chocolate or something. I lean in and give my girl a kiss of my own.
“Get your men out of my house,” I tell Henry, who only smiles as he turns to leave. I give his agents a death glare as they follow him out.
“Fuckers,” I mutter, then turn to head out to my wife. My breath catches when I see her, her dress and hair blowing in the wind, the sun setting behind her. God, she looks perfect. She turns a little, showing off her very pregnant belly. After we had Emma we wanted to wait a little while to enjoy our first before we had another. Now our son is ready to come any time now.
“You scare those agents off?” She shoots me a smile. I ignore her, walking right up to her and kissing her. Long and deep. Every time my mouth takes hers my body relaxes. When I pull back she’s breathing heavily, her cheeks rosy.
“We have the whole night. You can be as loud as you want,” I tell her.
“You’re the loud one,” she sasses back. I want to pull her to the ground and have her right here to show her who’s the loud one, but she’s had enough sun today.
“Come. I made you dinner for a change.”
“Really?” She shoots me a smirk. “Because I already made yours.”
She laughs as I scoop her up into my arms carrying her inside. I sit her down on the kitchen counter. I pull her sundress over her head and toss it away. “Lean back, sweet pea. I’m starving.”
She licks her lips and leans back. I drop to my knees, sliding her panties down her legs. I grip her thighs in a possessive hold as I take one long lick of her. She moans my name, making me smile against her pussy.
“Washington, please,” she calls out, wanting more. And I give her more, licking and sucking, giving my wife all the pleasure her little body can handle.
Who knew the American dream could taste so good.
THE END