Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

Jean-Pierre had pulled out all the stops.

Right when I was going to tell him that, he surprised me again. “Look to the sky.”

Color exploded in the air.

“Fireworks,” I whispered.

“A good sonata always ends with fireworks.”

Chapter 32

In the Birthing Pool

Jean-Pierre

In the shower, I fucked Eden. Hot steam surrounded us. Earlier, I’d been rubbing her sore feet.

Damn. I love her.

This was the last month of her pregnancy, I couldn’t help but pamper her. But then, she’d looked too good in those tiny shorts, with that big pregnant belly over them and my big buttoned shirt opened halfway. She was no longer able to fit anything and didn’t want to wear anything but my shirts anyway.

I loved it.

After both feet were properly rubbed with various scented oils, I had her clothes off in minutes and her in the shower. Pumping into that lovely fat ass, I rubbed her clit.

“Oh, Jean-Pierre!”

Steam rose. Warm water rained down on us. Her body had changed so much. The shower sprayed on her full breasts. Those nipples had darkened and became bigger. I loved lapping at them.

We must’ve made love for an hour in the shower.

Afterwards, I’d guided her out and dried that beautiful body.

We’d been ready to have dinner downstairs, when her water broke.

And then chaos ensued.

There was magic to the act of birth, but there was also terror. A birthing woman was nothing to toy with. I’d earned a new respect for Eden. There were many things that I could do that others couldn’t, but giving birth. . .

How can she do this?

I’d been tortured and cut. Shot and had ribs cracked. And still, as I watched Eden, my heart went weak in fear and awe.

Jesus Christ she’s a beast. She’s a fucking soldier.

The delivery had been a lot.

Nothing easy.

Eden had wanted to do it natural and have the baby in a large birthing pool.

I let her.

What did I know? I’d never had a baby.

My aunts had spent months trying to convince us not to do it. They all told her to go straight to the hospital and ask for as many drugs as possible.

But Eden had found a lot of literature on natural birth. She’d learned that the mother healed faster with natural birth, and that it was good for the baby.

What did we know?

And so, I had a large birthing pool designed by a local artist. He’d come up with a garden concept—complete with jewels and crystals. Roses and sparkling warm water that vibrated through jets to sooth Eden.

It was built in the back of the castle. Our child would be birthed at home. Forever we would hold that memory. Eden and I were super excited. Meanwhile, our aunts shook their heads and laughed.

What did Eden and I know?

We were new and in love. Happy and excited for the future of a family—our family.

Eden had two midwives, along with her servants.

And then her water broke tonight.

Terrified, I woke everyone up like a mad man. Anybody that was anybody in my life, arrived at the castle that evening. Of course, only the midwives and Eden’s personal staff stayed by the pool during the birth.

Everyone else sat inside the castle. Many paced, especially my aunts. The guys gambled. Their women cooked and watched films in the movie theater I’d built on the east wing. On the west wing, my younger cousins and kids played in my new man cave—equipped with all the high-tech video games.

Our guests enjoyed the night, while I witnessed Eden’s transformation into a captivating goddess.

There under the moonlight, I sat in the birthing pool with her, helping her through the pain of labor. I’d had dozens and dozens of roses surrounding us.

None of it mattered when her water broke.

The labor went on for a long time. And the beauty of the moon, and flowers had left. And the pain of labor had come. And her body stretched and tore in the most impossible places, to make space for a child to come through.

We sat in that birthing pool together. I was at her back, serving as her foundation. If I had to hold her up, I did. If she needed to lean against me, I remained stiff and there. When she needed—my arms, my warmth, my hands to wipe her face—I gave it to her.

She worked so hard to have our child, and it was unbelievable to watch.

I knew you would be a little princess. I knew it deep inside me.

I’d seen many things in my life, but the birth of my daughter, Marcella would remain one of the biggest moments.

Marcella and Eden. My loves. My lives.

I’d grown that night.

Eden had grown too.

Through the whole labor, her cries sliced the moonlight. For all those hours, she couldn’t eat or drink. They kept giving her ice chips so she wouldn’t get dehydrated.

Dear God! This takes hours. It’s nothing like the movies. How have women had more than one kid?!