One Chance, Fancy (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 5)

He sighed. “You’re no fun.”

“No fun?” I asked as I lined up his cock and slowly slid down his length. Panting slightly when he started to stretch me. “No fun is having you teasing me relentlessly with kisses and touches and caresses all night long and not following up with a good banging in the bathroom.”

He started to laugh and moved his hands to my hips, helping me steady myself as I continued to lower myself onto him.

When he was finally in place, and his cock was stretching me completely, I opened my eyes and stared at him.

“Today was everything I imagined it would be,” I whispered.

“You’re not upset that we didn’t have a church wedding?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“No,” I answered as I slowly pulled off of him and sank back down, moaning lightly as he hit the perfect spot inside of me. “That’s exactly what I wanted. Low key. Family and friends. No extras.”

His callused hands smoothed up my ribs until they reached my shoulders, then he pulled me down. Not for a kiss, but to suck the tip of one nipple into his mouth.

I buried one of my hands into his hair and held on tight as he licked, bit, and sucked.

When he let go of one, I guided his face to the other, causing him to laugh.

While he was busy doing that, I slowly moved my hips, undulating on top of him.

By the time he’d moved just his hands to my nipples, giving them hard tugs, I was slamming myself down on top of him, taking him so deep and hard that I’d likely be sore tomorrow.

I didn’t care, though.

Not right then, and definitely not a few minutes later when I was coming apart in my man’s—my husband’s—arms.

And an hour later, once he was through with me, and I was so thoroughly replete, the words that came out of his mouth caused my heart to swell even more.

“I may not be the best man in the world, but I’ll be the best man that I can be for you,” he whispered into the darkness. “Any kids that we have, I’ll love with all of my heart. And no matter what, as long as I have you, I’ll make sure that I’ll always be who you need me to be.”

I wrapped my arm around his head and pulled him down into me. “The man you are right now is exactly who I want you to be.” I pressed a kiss to his chest. “And I want seven babies.”

He stiffened. “You’re kidding, right?”

I laughed. “No.”EpilogueIf my kids don’t stop trying to parent each other, I’m moving out.

-Things you shouldn’t say to your wife

Bayou

Six years later

“Ma’am,” I heard called. “We are going to have to ask y’all to leave.”

Sam, who was still eating, really taking advantage of the ‘all you can eat’ chips and hot sauce, looked up from his food. “What do you mean you’ll have to ask us to leave?”

“It’s closing time,” the scared waiter explained. “Actually, closing time was an hour ago.”

I took one last gulp of my tea and then stood up, taking quick stock of where my children were throughout the room.

Isa was at the end of the table sitting between Sam and James, Phoebe’s uncle.

Lennie, our three-year-old, was sitting beside James, in between him and Shiloh. Though sitting wasn’t really a good word to describe what he was doing. Leaning while he slept on Shiloh’s lap was more like it.

Vivian, our next to youngest at a year and a half, was on the ground underneath the table. I could see her tiny black ponytail bobbing up and down between the gap in between the tables. Pru’s twins, Sam and Dean, were penning her in on both sides while my Fancy tried in vain to capture her so she could get her cleaned up.

Hoax was leaned back, his shirt lifted up over his belly, as he groaned and moaned about eating too much. Brielle was next to him, staring blankly at the wall as she tried in vain not to appear amused despite the fact that she was.

She loved my children just like she loved Hoax and me—absolutely. She’d also gotten over her jealousy and realized that she just wanted Bayou and Hoax to be happy.

Then there was me, at the end of the table, watching chaos ensue.

My eyes once again drifted to Isa, who was so much like me sometimes it hurt.

Though, despite a few bumps in the road along the way, Isa was developing normally despite her rather stunted upbringing when she was younger.

Phoebe worked her ass off to make sure that Isa wasn’t behind, and she also saw a speech therapist twice a week in the early days. Now she was in an excelled program in the third grade and reading at a seventh-grade level.