We’ll see about that.
“At the symphony’s debut this week, I know Nice will see her as the star she is.” I waved my aunt’s worries away. “Eden will be fine. I’ve taught her everything.”
Aunt Delphine paused, turned around, and gave me the look—the one that used to make me piss my pants as a boy. “Let Eden sleep.”
“I’m definitely waking her up.”
“Jean-Pierre.”
What did my aunt understand? She didn’t get my commitment. I had plans. Big plans. One that would have my beautiful fiancé on her back and even bent over.
Marcella needs a brother. Several actually. Big knuckleheads watching her back.
Our wedding would be soon. Eden had lost the weight she’d wanted, to fit her dream dress. As soon as we hit the honeymoon, I would put another baby inside her.
Maybe two.
But one didn’t jump into these things fast. One needed to practice. And I had planned on practicing how to make, lots of babies this evening.
Giving up, Aunt Delphine shook her head and smiled. “What is your problem, Jean-Pierre?”
“Marcella needs a brother to watch over her.”
Aunt Delphine muttered a curse in French.
“You two have a lovely evening. And Marcella, be good to your aunt.” I walked over to them, kissed my Aunt’s cheek and landed a soft kiss on Marcella’s forehead. My little one squiggled her mouth. Saliva dripped out the corners. And the drool was just as much adorable as her.
Marcella gurgled out a sound. I waited to see what it would be. It was just mumbled gurgles for now. Each day she was working on her wording, trying to speak. And each day, secretly, I anticipated the moment papa would leave that tiny mouth. At times, the possibility made me delirious.
Maybe, tomorrow.
Rafael claimed we fed Marcella too much and her first word would be, pie.
What does he know?
Marcella was not a fat baby. She was so tiny and utterly adorable. Chubby cheeks and the cutest double chin. And was it Marcella’s fault, that her mommy’s big breasts made tasty milk, full of fat and all the things she needed? Was it Marcella’s fault that her daddy had sped up the milk production, by sucking on her mommy’s long nipples in between feedings?
Sighing, Aunt Delphine left. “Good night, Jean-Pierre. Go to sleep and stop causing havoc in the middle of the night. You always did, even as a kid.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I licked my lips and headed to the bedroom.
Now. . .it’s milk and cookie time.
Eden’s breastfeeding had taught me a lot of things. One pleasant fact was that a mother’s breasts was supply and demand. Not only that, but Eden’s body would produce breast milk for Marcella’s needs at every stage of her baby journey.
But more important, was the original fact about the supply and demand. The more Marcella drank, the more milk came. And the more I suckled Eden’s nipples between feedings, the more Eden’s breasts toppled over her bra, the more she dripped milk into my mouth as I fucked her, the more the taste of her milk made me come alone.
Every man should have milk and cookie time like me. What other reason is there to wake up each day?
When Marcella was first born, we couldn’t have sex. Eden’s body had needed to heal, and Marcella was relentless with our time, and attention. None of us got any sleep in those earlier months—not Eden, the staff, or me.
And the whole time, Eden’s breasts strained her old bras and t-shirts. It was hard to keep my hands off her. It was damn near impossible to not think nasty thoughts, when she would unhook one side of her nursery bra, expose a lovely breast, softly pull at the stiff nipple, and feed Marcella.
Or course, when there was free time, I spent those moments massaging and caressing them. Of course, the few times she could take it, I softly kissed her pussy and made her come. I never came in return. She was too tired to suck me off, even though she would have easily obliged.
The week we could have sex. I’d brought in a bra specialist to give Eden a private assessment. It was more out of horniness, than undergarment assistance.
My aunts had taken Marcella on her first picnic, and I had Eden topless in the center of our bedroom, while other women pampered her—manicure and pedicure. Body massage and facial. The lingerie specialist entered next, measuring her breasts. The woman took her time with each globe.
The whole assessment, I sat in a chair across the room, keeping my hands far from my cock and finding it incredibly difficult.
The specialist let her know, that Eden had gone up two cup sizes. I may have kept a neutral expression on my face, but my cock jumped. And my obsession for Eden, was fueled even more.