Page 33 of Daddy's Little 1
I smirk. “By being my bad girl tonight.”
She nibbles my bottom lip and palms my blatant erection through my suit pants. “What if I tell you I’m hot and wet for you, Daddy?”
I groan, wrapping my arms tighter around her. “Then I’m going to fuck you like you deserve, baby girl.”
“Yes, please.”
And then my lips are on hers as I strip her naked before lifting her and placing her gently on the bed. She gazes up at me with those beautiful brown eyes that see straight into my soul as I strip off my clothes.
I lower myself over her, caressing her stomach before placing a kiss there and whispering, “I love you so fucking much, wee bairn.”
When I capture her eyes again, they’re shimmering with tears.
“We love you too,” she whispers. “So much.”
“Close your ears,” I murmur to our son or daughter. “I’m about to make your ma scream.”
And I do.
Twice.
Bonus Epilogue
One Year Later
Brenna
I startle, and my eyes fly open.
Our bedroom slowly comes into focus. The blackout blinds keep the room dark even though the bedside clock reads 11:00 AM.
Shit.
I fumble for the baby monitor, my heart beating loudly in my ears as I panic.
Where is my baby boy? I must have fallen asleep in the rocking chair while I was nursing Lucas in the early hours.
Did I lose him? Oh, God, did I smother him? I throw back the duvet, but I’m alone.
Roman goes away for one night on business, and I’ve somehow managed to lose our three-month-old son. Our beautiful, green-eyed, dark-haired bundle of pure joy.
I was freaked out when I discovered I was pregnant, doubting my ability to be a good mum at such a young age. But all my fears were laid to rest the second Lucas made his appearance in the world. The overwhelming love I experienced as he was placed into my arms knocked the breath from my lungs and expanded my heart in a way I never thought possible. It was the same for Roman. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more doting father.
As for Dad? He adores his grandson, although he likes to remind us often that he’s too young to be a granddaddy.
Roman didn’t let me do anything on my own. He treated me like spun glass throughout my pregnancy, especially in the first three months when my hormones went haywire, and I cried at literally everything. He was my rock, wiping my tears and reassuring me what a great mother I would be.
But if that failed, he resorted to Plan B—he fucked me until I was boneless and limp, which totally helped with my errant hormones, especially as I was so horny through my whole pregnancy.
In fact, my waters broke two minutes after he brought me to orgasm when I was a week overdue. That was an interesting rush to the hospital, with my husband running around in a panic like a headless chicken. He held me together during my pregnancy, but he fell apart once he saw me in pain.
Roman rubbed my back and clutched my hand through the whole delivery process—or rather, I almost brokehishand as I screamed and yelled and pushed our precious boy into the world. Roman told me after that he and Dad both threatened to sue the hospital if they didn’t ease my pain.
Yeah, having DadandRoman all growly and protective over Lucas and me can be a bit much sometimes. Not that I’d change anything. The three males in my life mean everything to me.
Roman loves his son with open adoration. He often walks around with him tucked into the crook of his arm, looking at him as if a baby is a wondrous miracle he’s never seen before. He thinks Lucas is so clever when he does simple things like kick his legs, wrap his tiny fist around Roman’s finger, or make adorable gurgling sounds—all the things that babies usually do, except that, in his opinion, his son does them far better.
“Have several more children,”my dad advised me dryly a few weeks after Lucas’s birth,“so Roman’s attention is divided between them. Otherwise, the fucker will spoil this precious baby boy rotten.”